The handle of the sharp blade was digging into the skin of your palm. Both you and Wilbur, born royals, have known each other since childhood. But things changed a long time ago. And now, you were hovering over the young adult king, pressing the knife to his neck, threatening to slash it any second now. But instead of panicking, the man had a calm, content look on his face. He simply put one of his hands on your hip, the second one going up to your chin, lifting it up slightly.