The silver dagger gleams, as if calling to her. Her eyes widen, roaming up the sharp blade and over the swirling pattern dressing the hilt. Reaching out slowly, she grabs hold of her father’s knife. And for this one, single moment, all is right in the world. There she is, the Silver Savior, standing before me—dagger in hand and a smile spreading across her face. “Thank you.” She can hardly get the words out. “I thought I would never see it again.” I smile. “Just try your best not to slice me open, yes?” “You first, Prince.”
