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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.
Summer turns wide, blank eyes on Mordred. “They burn. You … do not. Why do you not burn?” The flame in her hands flickers, then dies, along with the color of her eyes. “Mordred?” Her tone is almost childish, bewildered. She looks around, and tenses when she sees the heap of ashes, and the bandit leader.
“What did I do?”
Mordred glances back to where Ragnor’s second had once stood, now replaced by nothing more than a pile of ashes. “You killed him,” he says simply, as if the fact is nothing. ‘You need to get out of here, it isn’t safe.’ Mordred didn’t know whether or not she possessed telepathy, but it was worth a shot.
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.