A warm hand touched her right shoulder. At the contact, Maleficent flinched unintentionally and recoiled — not out of anger, but fear. She was afraid she might weep, and that would only worry him more. As she expected, her father misunderstood her reaction. He slowly withdrew his hand and cleared his throat.
“Let that be my problem. I am her husband, and you are my daughter. I will solve this.”
Shaking her head, Maleficent gave a bitter smile. “You are indeed my father. We think alike, after all. But I’m afraid I can’t honor your wish.”
At her refusal, her father’s head, which had been cast down, snapped back up. His glowing emerald eyes sharpened, his face darkened by an ominous frown.
“What now? Enough of this nonsense, Maleficent.” His voice was low, heavy with unspoken challenge —
