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Mordred grunts, his eyes fluttering open after a few seconds and he smiles. “Good morning” he mutters, moving into a sitting position “you didn’t have to.”
“Walk with me.” Edward begins a loop about the courtyards, castlefolk scattering before his stride. “How do you come to know my sister?”
He swallowed, following along beside him, his crimson cloak gleaming in the sun. “Well, I met Summer in the castle and we’ve been friends ever since,” he tells him, knowing full well that Edward might not believe it.
“My sister does not make friends easily.” Edward keeps his face forward, the picture of a serious knight. “You must be something out of the ordinary to be such a friend to her.” He mounts a set of stairs, pausing at the top to look out over the wall. “Tell me, Sir Mordred, what has a knight of Camelot, which land disdains magic, to do with my sister in such a way that she would turn to you for comfort in her sore need?”