That’s the thing about him. He’s the type that doesn’t need to be mirrored or returned. He’s a rare type of man—a rare type of king—even he was forced into the role at such a young age.
Felix was my first true friend here—before Kalix, before anyone else. I woulddaresay my best friend.
I was young when his father welcomed me into the castle. Back then, I didn’t care about my position.
I only cared about two things: food and stability.
After the Le strange incident, I was always moving, always going somewhere new. Vyraxis was my only constant.
Those years were easier with her. She protected me. Our bond transcends the material world. Our souls intertwined the day she was created.
Felix is different.
He isn’t bound to me like Vyraxis. He isn’t a creature of magic or some part of me made whole. He was simply there. A tangible force. A tether to something real.
The sun illuminates the darker parts of us and brings them to light.
Felix did that for me.
He was my first ray of sun after so many years in the dark. He saved me from the self-isolation, from the loneliness that gnawed at me, from the addiction to power that threatened to consume me whole.
Yet, the hunger is still there—still stirring, still whispering, still wanting for more.
The “more” that I chase now is different.
More laughter. More time together. More training to protectthem.
I don’t think Millicent has ever felt this.
I glance at her, the little hellion sitting stiffly beside Tyran.
She wouldn’t understand.
“Please, it’s Felix while we have dinner. I insist!”
Felix settles back into his seat, preening over Millicent, ensuring she finds everything to her liking.
The familiar weight of Kalix’s footsteps resounds from the entryway.
I turn to greet him, but before I can, something flickers in my periphery. A flash of red, vivid and striking, cutting through the room’s golden glow.
Iris.
Her fiery curls bouncing as she overtakes Kalix’s presence although he dwarfs her, so much so that it is almost comical.
Kalix may be the captain of the guard, a commander used to leading entire battalions, but it doesn’t matter.
Because Iris bosses us all around.
Eyes locked on Millicent like she’s never seen another woman before, Iris boldly slides into the seat beside her.
Kalix, as usual, plops into the chair with all the grace of a collapsing wall. His weight slams into the seat so hard the wooden legs groan under the impact.
Felix, who has been in the middle of one of his long-winded rambles, pauses long enough to extend a warm hand toward Iris.
“Millicent, this is Iris. Iris, this is Millicent Le Strange,” he announces, his tone as inviting as ever.
Iris turns to Millicent, her full attention fixed on her, her eyes alight with curiosity and amusement. “A Le Strange witch! I am shocked one of you even came out here.”
