Chapter 227: Over
Chapter 227
Felix
"What are you saying, Velesia?!" I don’t mean to yell, but my voice rips through the hall anyway. My chest is tight, my claws itching out, and I can’t really control my emotions right now.
What does she mean Poppybroke up with me?
Poppy?
Of all of them, she was the one who never demanded, never clawed at my time or pressed for attention. She let me breathe. And now—what? She’s gone?
Velesia’s face doesn’t so much as flicker. She just bows her head slightly, the way she always does when she thinks she’s being rational.
"You had no right," I bite out, my voice carrying sharper than I intend. A couple of students glance our way from down the corridor, but I’m too angry to care. Let them look.
I haven’t even had the time to resolve things with Poppy—because I’ve been drowning in everything else. The lessons. The scrutiny. The constant pressure of being a Leonhart. And now, when I finally think I can steal a moment just to find her—to be Felix and not the heir—Velesia tells me this?
"I was trying to help," she says evenly, her tongue as cold as her scales.
"You already have so much on your plate. The least I could do was deal with the Longear."
My blood runs hot. "What the fuck did you just say?"
My claws slip free with a sickening scrape, but I force myself to turn away. If I don’t walk off now, I’ll do something I can’t take back. My boots echo down the hall as I stalk off, jaw tight. I hear her footsteps trailing after me—dogged, relentless—but I ignore her and push into my room.
The uniform comes off in sharp movements. My body aches from exhaustion, but my head aches worse. Now I’ll have to fix this mess, chase Poppy down, apologize—when I can barely breathe as it is.
The door clicks open again behind me. Of course. Velesia.
"I was trying to help," she insists, stepping inside like she owns the place.
"I understand the Longear was there before any of us, but you can’t let her have this much power over you."
I exhale, long and slow, holding back a growl. "The Longear has a name. Poppy. And I was a Longear too, before I was a Leonhart."
"You’re a Leonhart now!" she snaps, her voice cracking like a whip.
I pause, staring at her. Once, I thought her loyalty meant she saw me—me, Felix. But now... now it feels like all she loves is the crown, the title, the lion crest on my chest.
The silence between us grows heavy.
"Let’s talk later, Velesia." My voice is flat, final, and leaves no room for her to argue.
For once, she doesn’t. She turns, stiff as stone, and walks away.
The door shuts behind her.
I change quickly and head out. My feet carry me straight through the private cafeteria, where nobles’ attendants bow their heads as I pass. I don’t care for their stares. I’m only here for one thing.
Poppy always preferred food over flowers. Always wrinkled her nose at bouquets, saying—
"What use have I for plants that can’t be eaten, Felix?"
So I grab what I know she likes. A basket of fresh fruit, crisp vegetables, a neat little salad, chilled and waiting. Something simple. Something her.
I carry it all the way to the Longear dorm. She isn’t there. I ask to be let in. They hesitate, but no one refuses a Leonhart.
The room smells faintly of lavender and cedar. It’s too nice—better than what she should be able to afford. A certain panther’s influence, no doubt. My jaw ticks. Still, I set the basket down carefully on the table.
That’s when I notice it.
A jar of flowers.
Flowers?
I blink once, then again, staring. She—who once mocked the uselessness of petals and stems—is keeping a full jar of blooms on her table. My chest twists in a way I don’t want to name.
The door creaks open. I turn, ready to speak.
And freeze.
Because Poppy walks in... her lips pressed against someone else’s. Someone with antlers.
My voice rips out of me, almost a growl. "Poppy."
She jerks back like she’s been burned, spinning toward me, ears stiff, eyes wide. And the bastard with polished antlers and soft brown hair, immediately pulls her behind him like he’s her shield.
I know him. I remember him. From the gala.
My vision tunnels.
"Felix, what the fuck are you doing here?" Poppy snaps once she recognizes me.
"We need to talk," I say, each word clipped, my voice rougher than I intend.
"Your Highness," the bastard replies, his tone tight but polite, "you might be royalty, but this is highly inappropriate."
The way he says highly inappropriate makes my claws itch. Who the hell does he think he is, standing between me and Poppy?
Poppy’s hand rests on his bicep, steady, like she’s the one shielding him. My chest tightens at the sight.
"It’s okay, Isaac. I’ve got this," she says softly.
Isaac looks at me once more, like he’s weighing whether to argue, then exhales and steps back. He brushes past me with the faintest bow of respect—mocking, perfunctory—before leaving the room.
The door clicks shut behind him.
Now it’s just us.
Her ears twitch, her shoulders stiff. She doesn’t look at me right away, and that cuts deeper than claws.
"Poppy," I start, trying to rein myself in, but my voice comes out low, dangerous.
"What the hell was that?"
Poppy folds her arms, ears stiff, eyes blazing.
"What the fuck do you think that was, yourhighness?" she bites back.
"How dare you?" I grit my teeth, stepping closer.
"What does who I kiss have to do with you?" she shoots back without flinching.
"We are nothing to each other now." She adds on.
"I have not agreed to that," I snap back, my voice rising before I can stop it.
Her ears flick, but her arms stay folded, her posture steady.
"How unfortunate," she says evenly, "but we weren’t married, your highness. That means if one party wants to break up—we break up. I broke up with you."
The matter-of-fact way she says it knocks the air from my lungs. No hesitation. No tremor in her voice.
"Poppy," I growl, stepping forward. "You can’t just—"
She cuts me off with a sharp flick of her hand. "I can. And I just did."