Summer leaned forward, clutching Cora’s hand so tightly her knuckles were white. Cora didn’t seem to mind. She could hear her own heartbeat pounding, drowning out the voice of the herald, stating the terms and nature of the challenge. The prince lifted a hand to signal, and she caught the set, furious expression of Lord Argent, in the box overhanging the field a quarter of the way around the circle.
And then the two knights are facing each other, and saluting, and the clash of swords drowned out the sound of her heart. Isaac was faster than Sir Ennis, ducking and weaving, and he used a one-and-a-half-hand sword. Sir Ennis had a double-handed broadsword, which could do proportionally more damage — but only if he could actually hit Isaac with it.
He had eyes only for his opponent, and they flashed with anger and determination, unable to recall when he’d last felt this enraged. Rescuing Summer from the dirty clutches of Sir Kit was one similar scenario, but if he succeeded today, perhaps he could end the conflict once and for all. He wouldn’t necessarily be hailed as a hero, but as long as his Summer was safe, then that’s all that mattered to him.
Saluting as required, he immediately stepped into battle, perspiration quickly gathering across his brow, thankful that Derek had been so rigorous and determined with his training. He was already exhausted, but he brushed it aside as best he could, ducking and weaving with ease as he fought back with everything that he had.
It became clear very quickly that Sir Ennis was not used to fighting someone as quick as Isaac; he was slow and most of his strokes were very obvious. He tired quickly, as well, ripping his helmet off barely five minutes into the battle, which Isaac easily took advantage of. Still, they hammered at each other for what seemed a very long time to Summer, great clashes of metal from block or strike.
But slowly, Cora began to lean forward in anticipation, and Derek leaned back, looking satisfied, and even Summer could see that Sir Ennis was slowing even more, struggling to lift his sword high, and Isaac pressed his advantage, forcing his opponent into greater and greater exhaustion. Both were bleeding from various cuts now, though none were immediately life-threatening. And then something — Summer couldn’t see through Isaac’s body, but Sir Ennis was down on one knee awkwardly — then he lowered his sword, one hand from the hilt, and it clattered to the ground, and Isaac’s sword was at his throat.