CHAPTER 245: EASY

Chapter 245

Edith

Too easy.

The thought slips through me like a purr. The little lion is so terribly naïve—defensive one moment, pliant the next. He clings to the scraps of comfort I offer like a drowning man to driftwood.

Adorable.

Soon enough, he’ll realize I am his lighthouse in the storm. His anchor. His salvation. By then it will be far too late for him to turn away.

I coax him to lie back, his golden head pillowed on my lap. My fingers weave through his hair again and again, gentle strokes that make his lashes flutter shut. How trusting. How sweet. He doesn’t even notice the trap closing around him.

Honestly cute, I think, smiling faintly as his breathing steadies into the soft rhythm of sleep.

The truth is undeniable: he’s attractive, well-formed, likely well-endowed—every inch of him radiates the arrogance of a predator born into power. But what matters more than flesh or face is what he represents.

Power.

And soon, that power will be mine.

My hand lingers against his temple, the warmth of his skin soaking into my palm. For a fleeting moment, I imagine the future: the weight of a crown, the respect of the court, and my children—our children—securing the dynasty in my name.

Three sons, perhaps. Two daughters. Though unlike the current king, I will not stop until I have at least two lion-blood heirs. The throne is not something I intend to gamble on fate alone.

My lips curl into a small, private smile.

Yes. I will need to write to Father soon. No family in the empire understands bloodlines and breeding better than ours. The sooner preparations begin.

I look down again at the boy—no, theheir—sleeping in my lap. My claws flex lightly, the urge to mark him as mine surging and subsiding just as quickly. Not yet.

Patience.

The panthers were harder—always a misstep away from blood and ruin and death. But this? This is child’s play.

The little lion doesn’t even realize he’s already been claimed.

***

Felix

I groan awake, blinking at the ceiling.

I... slept?

The thought jars me upright. I never fall asleep like that certainly not in someone else’s room. How inconveniencing to Miss Edith.

I stretch on the couch, muscles stiff. The scent of her perfume lingers in the air—something floral, faintly spicy, curling around the edges of my mind. I push it aside and stand, straightening my uniform automatically.

This is definitely her room. I remember her leading me here earlier, her voice soft, guiding. I must have been more out of it than I realized.

I can’t just leave. That would be discourteous.

My eyes wander across the accommodations as I walk. Modest compared to my own, but well appointed—muted tapestries, polished wood, a stack of sheet music on the desk. Everything neat. Efficient. Fitting for staff, but still quietly refined.

I clear my throat. "Miss Edith?"

No answer.

I move further in, searching, following the faint sound of water. Another door. Closed.

I pause, knock lightly. "Miss Edith?"

Still nothing. The sound of water splashing grows louder.

I hesitate. It’s probably rude. But...

I push the door open a fraction.

And freeze.

Fuck me.

Steam curls from the marble tub like a living thing. Water beads glisten on pale skin. She rises out of the bath with languid grace, blonde hair slicked back, droplets sliding down the long lines of her body. Every inch of her is wet and gleaming, the curve of her hips catching the candlelight, her tail swaying lazily behind her.

Miss Edith.

So attractive it knocks the air out of my lungs.

I shouldn’t stare. I can’t stop.

Wow.

Seriously—every curve, every drop of water rolling down her skin—it’s everything. My throat goes dry.

And then she moves. Graceful, unhurried, as if she knows exactly how I’m watching her. She slips into a robe, cinching the sash with elegant precision.

Her eyes lift, cool and amused. "Staring a little too long, Your Highness."

My heart kicks against my ribs. Heat crawls all the way up my neck. "Ah—yes. I mean—no. I mean—" The words stumble out, useless. "I’m sorry, I should leave."

I back toward the door so fast I nearly trip over the rug.

She tilts her head, that faint smile still playing on her lips, but she doesn’t stop me.

I flee.

Out into the hall, the air feels colder, sharper, but my face is burning. I press a hand against it, hoping it’ll cool the fire under my skin.

Gods above.

Why did I stay? Why did I look?

Why does she look like that?

***

Daphne

I snicker quietly at the retreating male lead, my chin propped in my hand as I watch the whole thing play out on the translucent screen the system projects in front of me.

Honestly. All that posturing. All that inherited power. And the moment Edith so much as lets her robe slip, he’s blushing like a schoolboy.

The little lion isn’t a threat. Not anymore. Not if Edith keeps stringing him along the way she’s already doing. She’s got him wound around her finger and she hasn’t even tried yet.

I don’t even need to get my claws dirty. All I have to do is check in once in a while and make sure the numbers keep ticking the way I want them to.

It’s almost disappointing. I’d expected more of a challenge. But if Jessica—no, Edith—is dismantling the harem faster than I could plan, then so be it. Less work for me.

I lean back against the couch, tail flicking lazily, my reflection ghosting over the system screen as Felix stammers his way out of Edith’s quarters.

Let her play the lion tamer. Let her shred his little court of admirers. I’ll just sit back and watch the harem break itself apart.

What I should be focusing on now is what actually matters.

My bunny.

Our relationship.

I close the screen with a thought. It fades into motes of light.