She gives up, just leaning on him. There’s a different kind of balance to be found there, listening to his heartbeat while he stands guard, surrounded by the things that live in their bones deeper than most. “We can do magic here,” she murmurs. “Did you realise that?” She turns a little, putting her back to his arms, and sweeps her mind out over the ocean. There should be fishermen out there, maybe a ship plying trade.There shouldn’t be fear. There shouldn’t be a boatload of anger — Summer stills, except for one hand groping for the hilt of Mordred’s sword.
“We can,” he agrees, relaxing only slightly. The thought scared him slightly, his uses of magic were so few and far between that there were moments, small moments in the morning when he awoke and pulled back the covers, that he forgot he could do it at all. ‘But I won’t,‘ he thinks to himself.
Even here word got back to Camelot, even here if someone had seen him Arthur would most certainly find out, then where would he be? He could quite possibly be exiled or worse – dead.
“There’s something out there.” She hardly even realises she’s spoken. She strains forward, body canted toward the sea — and then the longboat rounds the rocks and grinds onto the pebbles with a crunch, spilling roaring dirty Saxons onto the shore barely twenty feet away.
Whatever they’re shouting, it’s not in any language spoken in the Five Kingdoms. She throws up a wall of fire in front of them, and they simply charge through it, blades hissing through the air.