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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.
“How many times must I remind you? You /cannot/ lie to me, I will always know.” She fists her hands against her hips. Eyes flashing, she announces, “We’re not leaving this room until you tell me.”
He cocked a brow, chewing the inside of his cheek as he watched her. “You’re sorely mistaken if you believe that there is only one way out of this room, Summer.” Almost instantaneously he had decided that the best way to tell her was to not tell her, to make her hate him so that she would leave and they wouldn’t harm her. For her to hate him would tear him apart, but he would rather have her hate him than give her up willingly and watch her die, or keep her in danger.
“Fine. Then I will find a room that has only one door, and lock us in it, until you tell me what is worrying you.” She stalks across the floor, hands still on hips, to fetch up on the other side of the bench he’s standing at. “I don’t like it when you hide things from me, things that make you upset.” Whatever it is, he feels very strongly about it, and she wonders if maybe she would do better to try to take his mind off it, instead of prying it out of him.