Laurence caught Summer’s eye, and after a moment she gave a wry smile, shaking her head. “Yes, father,” she said. “Please don’t keep him too long.” Winter drew her away, pulling the sword from the ground with every evidence of familiarity.
Summer’s father looked back to Mordred. “I must agree with my son’s assumption, though with little else — there is quite a bit between you and my daughter. Would you care to explain it to me?”
The knight felt his heart rise to his throat. Of course he was right, why did he think he could escape such a thing? Mordred swallowed, taking a deep breath before he even considered speaking. He had told Edward, but then again this was her father. “I -” he begins, trailing off, wondering whether or not he should even tell him, “I’m in love with your daughter, my lord.”
“I do think I had rather gathered that,” Laurence chuckled. “You certainly don’t trouble to hide it. So, then. You wish my blessing?”