Although no one the pair passed said a word, every guard standing at attention, every maid or manservant in the antechambers, had a nod or a smile or a friendly gesture for Isaac. Apparently, regardless of what their Prince might or might not have to say, the folk of the castle approved of Isaac — or they loved their sad Princess.
Prince Edward waited, all but alone, in a small room somewhere near the centre of the castle. Like his guards, he kept his hands clasped behind his back, and watched Isaac enter with level green eyes, the same shade as his daughters’.
Isaac had planned to walk with his head bowed low, so nervous and tense that he might be a man walking to his death, but the unexpected silent acceptance of the employees of the castle astounded him, and he found his spirits being lifted. By the time he reached the destination after following the guard, his previous grim mood had all but vanished, and he even managed to muster up a small, polite smile for the Prince as he bowed and awaited further command.
“So, you made my daughter smile,” Edward said, turning away to examine a tapestry on the wall. “And you won my tournament. Both a courtier and a warrior. Yet you came in disguise. Why?”