Neatly, she braided it again, tightly to her scalp with a handful of pins, then shook her head hard, to see if it would come loose. “Thank you. Will you come down to the armory, then?”
Mordred holds his hand out to her, “of course.”
She took his hand, lifting it to her lips and kissing the fingers. “How will it be,” she asked, pushing the door open, “for you to dress me instead of the other way round?” She looked up at him, grinning. “I think my armour is less complicated than yours.”