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“Very well, then.” Rumple retrieved a silver chalice and a knife, placing them on the table. “Prove it.”
Aurora’s mind glitched, searching for a solution to this test. “I want to see him first.”
Rumple’s grin was sly, his eyes glinting with insight. “Don’t peg me for a fool, child. If you still had your gold, your father would’ve had you back in that tower.”
Aurora’s resolve stiffened. “Fine. I may not have his gold, but I am in line for his throne.”
Rumple circled her. “And what good will that do for me?”
Aurora met his gaze head-on. “My father’s kingdom is worth a lot more than Tristan’s. With his gold, you will become the most powerful ruler in all the kingdoms.”
Rumple toyed with his necklace. “Is that what you think I want?”
Aurora’s voice remained steady despite the tension in the room. “What is it that you want?”
“Assuming that’s what I want…” Rumple studied her carefully. “Are you saying that if anything were to happen to your father, you would relinquish his kingdom to me?”
Aurora puffed out her chest. “You have my word.”
A tense silence stretched between them, both players locked in a high-stakes game of manipulation. Aurora’s resolve held strong.
Rumple’s eyes bore into her, a flicker of uncertainty clouding his expression. “And you wouldn’t fight me for it?”
“I didn’t inherit my father’s thirst for power,” Aurora assured him. “I am not interested in his throne or his gold.”
Rumple’s skepticism wavered, his curiosity piqued. “You’re either a brilliant liar or a naive young princess.”
“All I care about is Tristan’s safe return. You give me your word, and I’ll give you mine—a promise that the most powerful kingdom will be yours.”
Rumple’s grin stretched across his face, a smug triumph dancing in his eyes. “Seems like the saying holds true: good things do come for those who wait.”
“So, we have a deal?” she asked.
“Hmm, not quite.” His words hung in the air. “You see, your father stole something from me, and I want it back.”
Curiosity sparked in Aurora. “What was it?”
“It was something of sentimental value to me. And since I will have to wait to claim my so-called powerful kingdom, this item will make waiting a little more bearable.”
Aurora’s mind swirled, seeking the puzzle pieces to complete the picture he was painting. “How can I get it for you if you don’t tell me what it is?”
“It’s a wooden spinning wheel,” Rumple said. “But with a golden needle made by fairies.”
The revelation hit Aurora like a bolt of recognition. She knew exactly what he sought, and her heart weighed heavy with the knowledge of its location. “Consider it done.”
Rumple’s smirk deepened. “You see, I only consider something done when it’s, well… done.”
With an enigmatic flourish, he conjured a parchment onto the table. Aurora’s gaze was drawn to the blank canvas until a quill appeared, poised above the parchment. As if guided by an unseen hand, the quill began to write, each stroke forming words of the pact they were forging.
“That might take a little while,” Rumple said casually, gesturing toward a door across the room. “Shall we go find that spinning wheel?”
Aurora followed Rumpel’s lead, descending into the depths of his mansion. Torches lined the narrow hallway, casting flickering shadows that danced along the stone walls.
“Aurora!” Tristan’s voice captured her attention, making her heart jump. Squinting into the distance, she caught sight of him behind a cell at the end of the dungeon.
“Tristan!” She ran to his cell and pressed herself against the iron bars, reaching for him.
He cupped her face as he rested his forehead on the cold bars. “Don’t do it,” his voice trembled. “Whatever it is that he’s asking from you, don’t do it.”
