Not because she was jealous, because jealous was not even the word and not even the right story.
Isabella did not feel threatened by Zara, and she certainly did not think Kian would suddenly fall apart over a woman behind a veil.
No, what made her want to grab Zara by the shoulders and shake her very hard was the sheer stupidity of it all.
This woman had ruined her own face, damaged her own body, sold away part of her soul, and dragged herself through black magic filth for a man who barely looked at anyone unless he had a reason.
If foolishness were food, Zara would have fed a kingdom.
Isabella kept her face smooth and lovely, then she gently looked away before anyone noticed that she had been staring too long.
She needed to act as though she knew absolutely nothing, because this was not the kind of thing one exposed without preparation.
Unfortunately for Zara, Isabella was not the only sharp one in the room.
