the Tale of Sir Isaac



Rafael didn’t answer, but his elevated chin and stiff posture said it all as he left. Summer waited for Isaac at the door, eyes worried. “The Prince sent a messenger to look for you,” she said quietly.

Isaac exhaled deeply and then moved to approach Summer, remaining silent as he strode across the room to pull her into his arms, pressing his lips to her forehead. “I don’t want you to watch, okay? I want…go for a walk or something…I don’t want you to see what might happen.” That, and he didn’t want her there for she would be a distraction, but he didn’t need to say those thoughts aloud.

Gently, she pushed away. “I can’t do that. I need to be there, I need to know.” She looked up at him, eyes dark. “I’ve seen combat, my l—Isaac. I know what can happen.” She pulled his dagger from its sheath and lifted it to her hair, cutting off a curl at the nape of her neck. “I don’t have a ribbon to give you, to wear around your arm, as noble ladies do. All I have is myself.”

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