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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.”
It’s only an hour or so before they reach Dobria Castle, and Edward swings down easily in the courtyard, stripping off his gloves before he turns to lift Summer down from the saddle. A handful of pages turn up quickly to take the horses, and Summer casts an appealing glance back to Mordred before Edward hurries her up the steps.
A freckle-faced urchin page stops at Mordred’s elbow and says, “Take your horse, milord? Drew’ll lead ye within, see to yer needs.”
Mordred smiles, sliding down from the saddle as he hands the boy the reins. “Thank you kindly,” he says, removing his sword from the saddle and placing it back at his waist before he heads up the stairs.
Before they get to the door, though, Edward emerges, hands clasped behind his back. “Sir Mordred!” he calls. “A word, if you would be so kind.”