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Mordred stopped, placing his vambrace down on the bench, his heart sinking. For a moment he concentrates completely on his armour, how could he answer such a question? Telling her would mean her life and the lives of those whom called Camelot home. An impossible predicament.
The young knight turns to face her, his fingers brushing lightly against the metal of his armour. “I’m not hiding anything” he tells her simply.
She flinches back, wholly involuntarily, and for the first time fears him a little. “Please,” she pleads back, in return. “Only tell me, don’t lie to me.” Tears stand in her eyes. “Why do you insist on lying to me?”
‘Please’
’Don’t make this harder than it already is.’
He could see the fear in her eyes and receded slightly, taking a step back. “Because it’s for your own good and has got nothing to do with you, Summer,” Mordred tells her, “now get out of my way, please.” His voice breaks involuntarily in the last sentence and he does his best to hide the strain. ‘This is the only way.’
His words snap something inside her, overwhelming her sense of his emotions. “For my own good?” she spits, anger redoubling. “/For my own good/? What do you know of my good? Do you think — do you think I cannot protect myself? I’m not, not strong enough, not — damn you, Mordred. I am not fragile, I am not some helpless maiden.” The tears which slide down her face are born now of fury, and she sucks in a harsh breath.
“Fine. When you believe that you can trust me with honesty, come and find me.”