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She didn’t flinch. “Tsk tsk. Haven’t you been taught that the safest way to hand over a sword is by the hilt?”
Emmett’s grip tightened, the sharp edge of the blade grazing her skin. His anger surged, and he growled through gritted teeth, “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t just end you right here, right now.”
“That’s not the example you want to set for your child, is it?” With a deliberate movement, she pushed the blade down and away from her throat. She extended her hand toward him, palm upturned. “By the hilt, please?”
Emmett’s defiance wavered, and his fingers went slack. The sword dropped from his grip, landing on the snow-covered ground with a resounding thud.
“Don’t ever show your face here again,” he spat bitterly.
Without another word, he turned on his heel and began to walk away, his silhouette fading into the night. Rapunzel watched him go, her eyes reflecting the flickering flames that continued to consume his castle. The weight of her actions pressed down on her, a heavy burden she had chosen to bear.
She bent down and retrieved the sword, the Elven metal gleaming in the dim light. As she held it in her hand, a whisper escaped her lips, almost lost in the crackling of the inferno in the distance—“You’ll thank me one day.”
