Summer opened her mouth to ask if Arthur knew, then paused as something occurred to her. “You … keep blushing,” she commented, smiling a little. “Does no one ever compliment you?”
There usually isn’t much to be complimented on, he shrugged matter-of-factly. I think only three living people know about my magic—four now that you know—and when I’m not messing up, I’m doing my job or breaking the law. Or some combination of the three. Realizing that he was getting into overly-negative territory, he changed the topic. I probably wouldn’t blush so much if I had darker skin, anyway. Um, where are you from, exactly?
“South. Far south, and east, on the edge of the water, where the white cliffs fall into the sea. It’s really beautiful there.” She smiled more wistfully, thinking of her home. “Well, so long as dragons aren’t terrorising us. Our folk are bringing in the harvest now. Some of it we’ll sell across the water, and some we’ll trade with my sister’s lord.” Picking at the coverlet, Summer went on, “They’ll be wondering if I’m alive, I expect. But there won’t be too much concern yet.”
That does sound beautiful, Merlin couldn’t help but grin as he imagined the place. A small part of him longed to see it for himself, but he pushed those thoughts aside. Your sister’s lord? Does she live in another area? He was dying to ask more about the dragons but chose to save those questions for later. Is there any way we could send them a letter to let them know that you’re alright?
“My twin. She married to the north. We needed the alliance — well, what we really needed was to stop raiding each other. The seasons of peace have been good.” She took a little time to consider Merlin’s last question, fingers worrying together. “I suppose. I can’t afford a courier any more than a place to stay, though. So writing a letter would do little good.”