Chapter 272
Felix
I look at my reflection in the polished silver basin before me, and my lion's ears twitch. I try a smile, and my canines—long, sharp, predatory—peek out from beneath my lip.
A predator's smile.
But that's not the reflection I'm seeing.
I'm still seeing Felix the Longear. The boy with the twitching nose and the nervous eyes, who measured danger in the rustle of leaves and the scent of blood on the wind.
How can predators think so lightly of life?
The thought rises, unbidden, and I scold myself immediately. I am not prey. Not anymore.
I am a predator now.
Felix Leonhart.
The name is supposed to be a mantle, a skin I've grown into. I say it aloud, a whisper to the empty room.
Felix Leonhart.
Louder. Trying to feel the weight of the lion in the syllables.
Felix Leonhart.
Hoping it will stick. That the prince will finally, fully overwrite the rabbit.
It doesn't.
