She looked up at him, green eyes huge, and shook her head. “No. No, I want to be with you.”
If either of them had been looking, they would have seen the prince’s eyebrow tick up ever so slightly, but all he said was, “Out. Go home. I’d order you not to fret, but you aren’t going to listen.”
Hastily Summer got up and offered a small curtsey to the prince and princess, before stepping over to Isaac and burying her face in the front of his tunic. “I don’t want to be here anymore, please,” she mumbled.
A delighted smile flickered across his face before he forced himself to school his expression into a blank one, not wanting to be the source of ridicule yet again from his comrades. Instead, he nodded and reached out to hold her hand, casting Derek a brief but grateful smile. “Thank you.”
And with that, he absently cupped the back of Summer’s head, murmuring soothing nonsense to calm her down before he led her out of the hall. He hoped he hadn’t traumatised her too much, but a part of him loved how she sought him out for comfort.
She couldn’t bear to let go of him. The fear caused by Lord Argent and Sir Kit’s sudden appearance went deep in her bones, and she couldn’t rid herself of the thought that this was all just a dream, that she would wake to the dusty morning sunlight sifting in the cottage’s sole window as a serf. “Don’t leave me,” she whispered, when they got to his home. “Please don’t leave me.”