Isaac barged into Summer’s room, not caring about the guards, maid-servant, or her sleeping in her bed. He went over to the window and pulled back the curtains, allowing the sun to shine bright into the spacious room. He headed over to Summer’s bed, stood right by her, and tapped his foot impatiently. He rolled his eyes and let out a big sigh. “My lady, you have been asleep far too long now. Perha- No, you should- need to wake up. Now!” he barked impatiently as his foot tapping quickened.
The abrupt sound of Sir Isaac’s shouting intruded unpleasantly on Summer’s dreams. She rolled over, tangled in a web of red hair and coverlets, and frowned at him. “You,” she said, “should not be in here while I’m in this state. You should send my maid.” She meant it to sound severe, but a massive yawn in the middle rather spoiled the effect. Brushing as much of her hair out of her face as she could, Summer frowned up at the curly-haired young knight. “Why must I wake up?”
She wondered if he even had any idea how she had tumbled, exhausted, into bed in the darkest hours of the night after sitting up with Cook’s smallest daughter, praying the child’s fever would break. Probably not. She smothered another yawn and pushed herself upright in the bed.