"Unquiet," Mordred says, the word slow but not sardonic. He sits down in the grass next to the knight, very close. "It is what they say about ghosts, isn't it?"
Galahad laughs: it is not a wild laugh, or a mad one, or a loud one. A young man of twenty-one with his life ahead of him might laugh like that, if he had found something private and fond to be amused at. "And teenage princes, as far as I recall."
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"Unquiet," Mordred says, the word slow but not sardonic. He sits down in the grass next to the knight, very close. "It is what they say about ghosts, isn't it?"
Galahad laughs: it is not a wild laugh, or a mad one, or a loud one. A young man of twenty-one with his life ahead of him might laugh like that, if he had found something private and fond to be amused at. "And teenage princes, as far as I recall."
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