She sighed. “If I lose my temper, I might actually try to kill him.” A brief flicker of fire lifted off one finger, and she tipped her head at Mordred. “He’s only my brother. Even if he is a boor.”
”I have faith that you will keep control,” he tells her, placing his hands on either side of her at her arms. “If not we will step in.”
“If you’d rather fight for me,” Summer said, wryly. She shook herself, then pulled herself up straight. “Well. My sword?”