Jocelynn's hand trembled as she grasped the knife, her fingers barely touching the handle as though afraid that accepting it from Owain would seal some irrevocable fate. Behind her veil, Owain couldn't see her expression, but he could read the hesitation in her body, the last vestiges of resistance warring with the desperate need for vengeance that he had so carefully cultivated.
"It's alright," he murmured, pressing the knife firmly into her hand. "I know this is hard. I know you've never done anything like this before. But I'll be right here with you, guiding you, teaching you. Just like when we cut away his robes. Remember how I helped you then? This is no different. Just follow my lead, and I'll show you exactly what to do."
He positioned her hand properly on the knife, his fingers wrapping around hers to demonstrate the correct grip.
