She needs comfort, not confusion.
As her breathing evens out, I slowly lift my hands from her face, lingering longer than I mean it to. That’s when I notice the slight lean into my hand—Felix’s hand—just before I pull away.
“You level?” I ask quietly.
“Yes, thank you,” she says quietly, offering a tight-lipped smile. “It was hard. Hearing about my mother…and the other things Shalla mentioned.”
I grin, slipping back into Felix’s role, lightening the mood as he always does. “Anything to keep our witch from exploding!”
Reaching around her, I grasp the doorknob and push it open.
And because I promised—a truth for a truth—I add, almost casually, “I never wanted to be king.” The truth, even if not mine, is heavier than I expect.
The door swings wide open, and she glances up at me, her blue eyes softening.
“You have too much life in you to be a royal,” she says with a small smile; it’s tentative but real. She’s trying to comfort me, a tiny piece of herself offered back.
We step out of the library together, carrying the weight of the coven and all its secrets with us.
The ride back to the castle is quiet.
Given what passed between us, it’s not…abnormal. It’s expected. I let the silence stretch, offering her that small mercy.
Still, I catch myself watching her from time to time.
There’s another person buried beneath her iron skin and razor claws. Even with her sharp edges, her outer appearance is…
Who am I lying to?
Millicent isn’t simply pleasant and easy on the eyes.
She’s terrifyingly beautiful—the kind that doesn’t invite admiration but dares it. The violent sensuality woven into the fabric of her being is uncanny in a way that promises something fatal if you get too close and taste that sweet, forbidden fruit.
In another life, she must have been a siren, luring men into dark waters and singing them straight to their deaths. And if I reached out now—not as Felix but as myself—she would cut me down gleefully.
I would be her willing victim.
My hatred for her muddles further, blurring into something too complicated to name, just like the gaps in my own memory—pieces of who I used to be, eroded by time and survival.
Wouldn’t I have become just like her if I’d stayed in Nora’s grasp?
I long to understand Millicent.
People are puzzles to me—complex, fascinating things to be pulled apart and solved.
What motivates them? What terrifies them? How could I twist them to my will?
I tongue the inside of my cheek, irritation prickling at the edges of my thoughts.
Ihatethat I can’t get into her mind. If I could just slip past her defenses, I would know everything.
I could stop fearing that someday she’ll turn and tear apart the people I care about—predators locked in a vicious circle, looking for one another’s weakness.
And I am learning hers. I feel no guilt for whatever methods I use.
Even as I adjust the crown atop my head, wearing this gilded meat suit, I’m built to pull the softer parts of her out.
When we return, I swiftly return to my chambers. I bathe, scrubbing away the remnants of Felix’s shape.
