Isaac scowled as he scrutinised his reflection in the mirror on his wall, reaching up to desperately push back a wayward curl, and hissing in warning when it simply sprang back to its original position. He wanted to impress Summer, for he knew that this would be her first experience at an event such as this, and while he had complete faith in Cora putting together the perfect outfit, Isaac didn’t hold the same opinion of himself.
He ignored Rafael’s suggestions, not even bothering to react when his servant exited the room in anger. This was the first time he’d dressed to impress a lady — before, it was always a rival army General or some King from a far off land. Never a lady.
Deciding to admit defeat and leave his home before he changed his mind yet again, Isaac finished smoothing down the wrinkles in his tunic, before he began to make his way up to the castle to join the others in the large hall. Conversing easily with his fellow comrades, he heard a murmured hush come over them, and he turned to see the source of the silence and his jaw dropped wide.
Summer could hear Cora’s muffled giggle (maybe it was a princess thing, to be able to giggle and yet still have it sound triumphant), but she couldn’t take her eyes off Isaac. She’d never seen him in aught besides armour of one sort or another, or the padded clothing that went beneath it, and she struggled to keep her own face composed.
Prince Derek delivered her to the seat beside Isaac, and she sat down limply, still looking at him. One stray lock of hair curled temptingly over his eyebrow, and she itched to push it back. Vaguely, she heard Derek murmur to Isaac, “Remember to eat, brother.”