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Mordred grunts, his eyes fluttering open after a few seconds and he smiles. “Good morning” he mutters, moving into a sitting position “you didn’t have to.”
“I’ll expect you to send me a message if you aren’t back within a week, Mordred,” Arthur says, making up his mind. “My good wishes to your father, Summer, and safety on the journey. Go on.” He bends back to his papers, clearly dismissing them.
He bows slightly, straightening up soon after. “Thank you my lord, of course, it will be done.”
Summer drops a quick curtsey and backs out the door, hurling herself round to lean against the wall with one hand pressed over her heart again. “Oh my gods, Mordred.”