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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.”
“Sorry, I’m sorry, mae’n ddrwg gen i,” Summer stammers, turning from Mordred to Edward and back.
Edward eyes Mordred coolly, and makes an abortive motion to part them, before executing a short bow from the saddle. “Sir Edward, the Phoenix Knight of Dobria. Well met.” He’s clearly not impressed by Mordred, or his credentials.
“Summer. Dewch, yn awr. Byddwn yn mynd adref. Bydd eich chwaer yn synnu’n fawr o weld chi.” He nods his head to Mordred. “Thank you for guarding her thus far. I shall have her home.”
“Mae croeso i chi,” the young knight tells him, bowing his head slightly. He could see the scrutiny in Edward’s eyes and on his face, and just as Edward was with him, Mordred was not impressed by him. “I’m afraid there is no need to send me away, I shall be staying,” he tells him.
There’s a flicker in Edward’s dark gaze when Mordred replies in the old language of Dover. Summer swallows hard, glancing from one to the other, and her voice is still high as she says, “Oh don’t, please don’t. Please, just take me home, don’t.”
Her brother glances down at her shining hair and sighs. “Very well, sister. It would be ill-done to not at least resupply him before he must return to Camelot.” He jerks his horse’s head away from trying to nibble the bridle of Mordred’s, and sets off down the road.