“See how generous is this knight to whom you have offered insult.” Laurence shook Edward by the ear once more, then let him go entirely. “Do not show your face in the hall tonight. I will deal further with you on the morrow. You are dismissed.” He turned his back on his son, gave each of the other two a meaningful, if indecipherable, glance, and left the room. Rubbing at his ear, Edward followed sullenly.
Summer swallowed hard, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor with huge eyes. “Oh. My. God.” She put a hand over her heart, trying to keep it from beating out of her chest. “Well. I don’t think you have to worry about Edward anymore?”
Mordred let out a long sigh, collapsing to his knees, his head in his hands. “That was not the way I wanted to meet your father,” he tells her, running his hand through his hair. His heart was still in his throat, and it almost hurt to breathe; what had just gone on he didn’t understand.
“I don’t think so, well at least, I hope.”
“It’s not how I wanted it either! Though at least he’s not going to throw you out on your ear.” Blowing out a sigh, she looked over at him. “How /did/ you want it?” Half-shaped romantic daydreams danced in her mind, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted them to be real or feared it. A small part of her still expected that Mordred would be ripped from her life as quickly as he’d come, that he’d leave one day and never come back.