Page 97 of Malicent
There it is—her attitude—easily reigniting my hate, pushing it back over any fragile attempt at understanding her.
I won’t fight her. Not as Felix. I choose my next words wisely.
“Those who are truly worthy, Millicent, don’t need to keep reminding themselves they are,” I say quietly, motioning to the door behind her. “Now…shall we go?”
I don’t understand the flicker of hurt that flashes across her face.
Channeling Felix’s softer nature, I reach out, cupping her cheeks once again. My fingers trace lightly over her warm skin, and I feel her breathing hitch beneath my touch.
“You were worthy even before you drained every ounce of emotion and blood from yourself,” I murmur.
“That’s easy for a mortal to say,” she whispers, and I watch her mask crack further, piece by piece. “Such comforts are not afforded to my kind.”
It no longer feels like manipulation. This isn’t her acting for Felix’s benefit. This is real, like they’re friends.
I realize—too late—that I’m trespassing on a sacred friendship that doesn’t belong to me. If I were a good man, an honest one, I would stop.
Instead, I reach inward and sever the mental thread connecting me to Tyran, locking this moment away from him.
This is mine.
“I can offer you comfort,” I whisper, leaning closer, breathing her in. “Tell me your sins, and I’ll absolve them. Tell me a truth, no matter how dark, and you’ll taste freedom, even if only for a little while.”
“A truth for a truth?” she breathes.
And even though I’m offering up one of Felix’s secrets and not my own—just to have one of hers—I find myself whispering back without hesitation.
“A truth for a truth.”
The air stills between us. She swallows hard.
“I have given everything since I was young. I gave until I was nothing but an empty vessel.”
She exhales a shaky breath, and her voice begins to crack as she continues.
“Even when they filled me back up—with power, with magic—I’m still empty, Felix. I’m still hollow…I feel it inside me,” she whispers. “The weakness. I can’t get rid of it.”
Her voice breaks fully now.
Shalla had mentioned her mother, the curse carved into her skin. With old traumas being dredged up, it’s pressing down on her. I can’t blame her.
And I know witches: when their emotions spiral, so does their magic. Just as her imps had manifested in her sleep, her pain could easily boil over now, twisting the magic inside her into something wildly dangerous.
I keep my touch steady, caressing her cheeks gently as her eyes fill with pain and anger.
“To feel your emotions is strength, Millicent,” I murmur, letting the words sink between us. “Weakness is pretending you don't feel anything. Weakness is shoving everything down until it poisons you.”
I lower my voice.
“Be angry. Be scared. Be hurt. Feel it. Let yourself be everything you are. And when you’re ready…find something to fill that hollow space, and chase it.”
I hesitate because what I’m about to say doesn’t belong to Felix anymore.
“It’s okay to not know now, but lean on...me.”
I choke slightly, forcing Felix’s voice to stay steady. “Lean on Iris. Lean on Kalix.”
I leave my name out.
