Summer held very still, hoping that somehow if she didn’t move she wouldn’t be seen, that maybe the fantastic clothing would disguise her enough. Lord Argent paid the pair no attention whatsoever, and Sir Kit looked bored by the whole proceedings. In fact, Lord Argent continued right up to the table where Prince Derek sat, and smashed his hands on the board.
Several of the Hale knights immediately rose to their feet, reaching for swords, but Prince Derek waved him back. “You’re going to have to be more specific, Lord Argent,” he said easily. “Which knight? I have many loyal knights.” He flicked his hand at the ones standing, clearly held back from surrounding the Argent lord by his will alone.
Sir Kit stepped forward, pulling off his gauntlet — the left one, the only one he had on, his right hand being heavily bandaged — and dropping it on the table in front of Isaac. “This one,” he sneered, “cut off my thumb, rendering me unable to wield a sword so that I can no longer take up my knightly duties, and he stole one of my serfs.”
His right fist curled tightly around the hilt of the dagger, his left hand innocently placed on her covered knee, the touch hopefully calming her a little, as well as himself. There were so many possible outcomes to the imminent battle here, and Isaac had faith that Derek would protect Cora and the others, while he protected Summer, just knowing that Sir Kit’s justification for invading their meal was revenge.
A slight surge of amusement rose in his stomach at the sight of the crudely wrapped hand, and he once again took great pride in rendering that hand essentially useless and somewhat incapacitating the other male. He hoped it would force him into learning a lesson, but he doubted that would be the end result.
“That’s Sir Isaac to you,” he interrupted, ignoring many of his comrades’ awed and reproachful looks, “And furthermore, I did no such thing. I did, however, rescue a truly wonderful maiden from your grubby little grasp — an amazing feat, if I do say so.”
“Isaac.” Derek’s voice was quiet, but commanding. He leaned back in his seat, looking over the Argents. “There are no serfs here,” he told the pair. “Nor slaves. No man may own another in my lands.”
Lord Argent bristled. “Do you say your laws run in my lands as well? Your so-called knight stole one of my serfs, and I demand it be returned. Is this the honour of the Hales?”
“It,” said Derek, voice dreadfully low. “Humans are not property, and by my law anyone in my lands is free. There are no serfs here.”
“And what of the maiming of my son? Is there to be no recompense for that? A fine prince you have here,” Lord Argent sneered. “The son is less fit to rule than even the mother was. No wonder your kingdom is so weak, ruled by such women.”