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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 looks down to the way he is still gripping her wrist, and swallows hard. It’s been a while since she killed using her powers, and the thunder in her mind tells her she had been wide open to the death. Abruptly she goes to her knees, retching.
He releases his hold, taking a step back and he looks around. “All of you, disappear, now,” Mordred orders and the men disappear, leaving the two of them alone. He crouches down. “Summer, breathe, calm down.”
They had meant to rape her. She remembers that, now. She’s eaten so little in the past few days there’s nothing in her stomach to come up. Mordred had been stopping them, sword drawn. He’s not garbed in knightly splendour now, but in dark layers that somehow suit him better than the shining silver and red of Camelot. Burying her hands in her hair to hold it away from her face, she gags again, and looks up at Mordred. The rush of blood makes her dizzy and cold. “Why are you here? You left … I left. I’ve been lost.” Her eyes fall on the pile of ashes again. There should be blood on her hands. “Just … leave me here to die.”