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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.
All the anger goes out of her abruptly, leaving only weariness and an aching void. “Who is ‘they’?” she mumbles, then shakes her head. “No. It doesn’t matter.” She starts to shiver, and goes to her knees again. “What do you want me to do, Mor— Sir Mordred? I will do what you say.”
He chewed his cheek. “There is no need to address me as that, I am no longer a knight,” he tells her, “go to Camelot, find Merlin or Leon, tell them I sent you, or that you need help, they will help you.”
It takes Summer a minute to find the energy to get back up. She takes a step and halts, one hand on a tree trunk. “Yes, my lord. Merlin. Or Leon.”