The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts
Chapter 255 - 256: Do I look like I was born second?

Chapter 255: Chapter 256: Do I look like I was born second?

"Ha! You’re all so funny," Isabella said after laughing so hard she had to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. Not the good kind of tear—more like the "I can’t believe I’m surrounded by idiots" kind. But no one needed to know that. She kept her smile sweet and sugary. A lie wrapped in charm.

"Aren’t they, baby?" she asked, looking down at Glimora.

The little beast blinked up at her, eyes wide and unsure. She tilted her head slightly, then slowly—very slowly—nodded.

It was the kind of nod that said I don’t get it, but mama’s smiling and I like food so yes? Her tiny tail gave a weak swish like she was trying to agree with the joke but didn’t fully trust it. The faintest, most doubtful smile curved her lips.

"That’s right," Isabella said, patting her gently like Glimora had just passed some invisible test. "Good girl. You get it."

She turned back to the guards with that same dazzling smile. "Now... What makes you think he’s my older brother?"

There was a beat of silence. One of the guards rubbed the back of his neck. Another cleared his throat. The third suddenly seemed very interested in a beetle crawling up the wall.

"Well..." the boldest one began, glancing around at the others for backup. "He’s just... y’know, taller?"

Isabella’s smile twitched. "Taller."

"Yeah," the man nodded with a growing sense of confidence. "He’s got that... tall look. Like, a manly tall. And the red hair, of course. Red hair always comes first in the older siblings, doesn’t it?"

"I don’t know," Isabella said slowly, tilting her head. "Does it?"

He blinked. "I thought so?"

Another guard stepped forward, trying to help. "He carries himself like a leader. Back straight, chin high. Like you... but softer."

"Softer?" Isabella blinked.

"Aye. Like... less fire, more wind," the man said, waving his hand through the air like that meant something. "You both hold power, but he’s more like, ’Speak, I will listen.’ And you’re more like, ’Burn it down and make it better.’"

Another guard bobbed his head quickly. "Yes! He has that stillness. Like an old tree that’s seen many seasons."

Isabella tilted her head. "So I shout and he hums?"

"No! No—well, yes. But not in a bad way!" the first one hurried out. "You have force. You walk in, and folk sit up straighter! He walks in, and folk breathe easy, like, ’Ah, someone who’ll keep the roof from falling in.’"

"Keep the roof from falling," Isabella echoed, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "And I’m what? The one who sets it on fire?"

"No, not so!" The man flailed. "You’re just... bold. In a good way."

"Wonderful," Isabella muttered. "So he’s the calm breeze and I’m the traveling storm?"

"Well..." one mumbled, but the others quickly elbowed him into silence.

"And you can sense all that from how he folds his arms and stares off like he’s dreaming of the stars?"

The guard squinted, thinking. "Truly. He has that older-brother spirit. Quiet... watchful."

Isabella stared at them.

"So let me see if I understand," she said slowly, each word dropping like stone on stone. "He’s my older brother because he’s taller, has red hair, and stands like he’s ready to speak with the sky... but with less fire... and gives off the feel of a talking tree."

They all nodded in unison, like that explanation had just solved the mysteries of the universe.

"So what about me?" Isabella asked sweetly, voice still silky but laced with venom. "Do I look like I was born second?"

"Well—" one guard opened his mouth and immediately regretted it.

"You look great," another guard jumped in. "Amazing, actually. Very... symmetrical face. That’s, like, an older sibling trait too, right?"

Isabella gave him a look. "Symmetrical?"

He froze. "I meant... wise! You have wise cheekbones."

There was a long pause. Even the wind had the decency to stop blowing for a second.

"Wise cheekbones," Isabella repeated flatly.

"Yes!" he doubled down, like that made it better. "The kind of cheekbones that say, ’I’ve seen things.’"

Isabella turned to Glimora again. "Did you hear that? Apparently my face has seen things. That’s so lovely."

Glimora blinked again and gave a soft, uncertain squeak.

Isabella turned back to the guards, still smiling, though her teeth were a little more visible now.

"And I guess you also assume I follow him around because I need his protection?" she asked with a sharp edge in her voice.

"Well—he is always around when you’re doing stuff," one of the guards offered.

"Yeah! He looks out for you like a real big brother," another added. "That one time at the gathering? He stood right behind you the whole time. Hands folded. Like a guardian!"

Isabella stared.

"I mean, he just gives off big brother vibes!" someone else said helpfully.

A silence stretched so long you could hear a leaf land on the stone behind them.

Isabella gave a soft, amused snort and rested her chin on her hand. "So just to be clear... you all think I—me—walk around with my big, bearded older brother trailing after me like some sort of ceremonial rock guardian."

"Yes?" they all said too fast.

Isabella’s lashes fluttered.

"Do I look like someone who needs guarding?" she asked, her voice soft and deadly now.

"No!" they replied even faster.

"Do I seem like someone whose older brother needs to hold her hand at gatherings?"

"Absolutely not."

"Do I emit the aura of someone with ’wise cheekbones’ and a giant sibling looming behind her like a stone post?"

"... maybe a little?"

That one got a glare. The man who spoke immediately looked down at his own toes as if they might save him.

Isabella was quiet for another beat.

Then she laughed.

Again.

A deep, rich, slightly maniacal laugh.

She laughed so hard she had to bend forward, holding Glimora close so she didn’t drop her. A tear actually slipped down this time, and she made no move to hide it.

Glimora watched her with big blinking eyes, then looked at the guards, then back at Isabella, unsure whether to cry or laugh too.

"Ha... you know what?" Isabella said, wiping at her eyes again. "You’re all hopeless. Absolutely hopeless."

She straightened up, her expression suddenly flat.

"Where the hell is Cyrus?" she snapped.

"Yes, where the hell is Cyrus?" a deep voice echoed from behind Isabella, perfectly mimicking the sharp bite of her tone.

"You’d better tell her... or prepare to face her wrath yourself."