Sir Ennis wiped blood from his eyebrow and nodded, rasping, “I yield,” despite Sir Kit’s enraged shouting. Lord Argent’s face was set with fury, but he didn’t speak. Summer slowly relaxed back into her seat, letting go of Cora’s hand to press them both over her mouth. Now that it was over, the tension collapsed in on her, and she felt on the verge of tears.
The Prince stood up and beckoned to the two champions, and to Lord Argent. “Are you satisfied?” he asked.
When he deemed it to be safe, Sir Isaac nodded and did what most Knights would not do — he held out his hand and shook Sir Ennis’s, before turning on his heel and striding across the field. Ignoring the cheers and demands of those around him, Isaac vaulted over the stands and pulled Summer up into his arms, kissing her soundly on the lips.
Sir Kit practically danced with impotent rage, but his father cut him off with an imperious slash of the hand. He looked over at Isaac, then back to Derek. “God has spoken,” he said, taut anger in his voice. “I don’t have a choice.” He looked for a moment like he wanted to say something else, some threat, but he just turned on his heel. Sir Kit and the other Argent knights fell in behind him.
Summer opened her mouth blindly to Isaac, pressed against the steel of his armour.