She pressed a kiss to his closed fingers before straightening her shoulders and looking up at him. “I think your Prince will be wondering where you are. He sent for you once already.” Her expression was as resolute as his. “My heart and honour are yours, and I know you will uphold them. Her Highness is waiting for me, I think.” She looked for a moment like she wanted to say something else, but shook her head quickly and hurried out of the house.
“I don’t want to leave you, Summer…I’m scared I might never come back…” He protested softly, cupping her chin in his hands before nodding, pushing back his reluctance to leave her, hiding behind a mask of indifference and confidence. “Just promise me that if the worst happens…then you won’t mourn for me? I love you, Summer…” And with that, he strode out of the house with his head held high, right hand curled tightly around the hilt of the sword as he marched toward what could be his final battle.
They didn’t go up the streets together, and that was probably for the best — if they spent any more time together, one of them would break. And then Lord Argent would win by default. She believed in him. She had to believe in him.
She let Cora and the other ladies fuss over her, putting her in one of the princess’ dresses and adding a veil so Lord Argent and Sir Kit still wouldn’t recognise her, hardly responding to their words. They, of course, had no doubts about the day’s outcome, and she desperately tried to take strength from their certainty. Only Cora seemed to understand her fear, and kept her close by her side.
They filed into the raised stands by the side of the field, directly overlooking the center of the area, and Summer’s gaze fixed immediately on Sir Kit and Sir Ennis, practising in the middle of the field. The Argent champion was huge, and he wielded his sword with great two-handed strokes.