Crow smirked, pleased with himself. He hadn’t had an opportunity to practice his multilinguistic talents since before he had been put in prison. The languages must have become so deeply ingrained in him that it would take longer than just three hundred and sixty-five days to forget them. Either that, or he really was possessed by a spirit of tongues. He preferred to think it was the former. The thief’s ego was further inflated when Penelope commented on how his talents were putting them into a better situation. He already thought that, but hearing someone else say it out loud made him sit up just a little bit straighter.

“Don’t worry,” Crow shook his head when the knight joked about her concern for him teaching them the wrong accent. “I enjoy a good laugh at someone else’s expense, but I’m not suicidal. Besides,” he met her gaze evenly, taking on a more serious tone. “We made a deal. I’m going through with this ridiculous mission, whether I want to or not.” He hesitated for a moment, then looked away from Penelope. [i]That’s right. Just a few more days before I take my leave of these knights—of her.[/i] The thought of freedom had turned so bittersweet. Even though he had decided not to pursue Penelope as more than a friend, the thought of going separate ways made him taste bile. Part of him wanted to at least keep in touch afterwards, but he knew it would be far too risky. He didn’t want bounty hunters breathing down his neck right after he escaped from the knights, so there would be no simple way to reach her after this assignment was over. There would be no way to continue their friendship either.

Crow stared out the side window of the wagon, his eyes dull, [i]Love really is a pesky emotion[/i]. He exhaled. “Have you ever been torn between two opposing desires?” the thief asked. He blinked, startled by his sudden vulnerability. He wasn’t sure why he even bothered involving Penelope. Perhaps he had grown careless because they would be parting ways soon; or perhaps he was just that desperate to talk to another person about the weight on his heart. He went on: “I’m not talking about a desire such as whether I should eat chicken or fish for lunch. I mean two desires that would change my life completely, no matter which one I chose.” He met Penelope’s eyes once more—those pools of deep green that he could stare into all day long, but were unattainable to him—and smiled melancholically. “What’s worse is that the strongest of the two desires is something I can’t have. It’s something that, if I tried to obtain it, would destroy me and everything I’ve achieved. Yet it still calls me.

“The second desire is something completely within my power to reach. It’s something I thought I wanted, but now I don’t know… It would give me everything I wanted in life, but I would almost rather let myself be destroyed, just for one moment of having the other desire.” Crow paused. He felt numb with shock at his own honesty. He was saying things to Penelope that he was only admitting to himself for the first time. He suddenly felt guilty for putting that weight on her. He forced a laugh, trying to lighten the mood, “I’m sorry, love. It wasn’t fair of me to spring that on you. Just pretend I didn’t say anything. Oh, look!” He pointed out the window, hoping to change the subject. “I can see a marketplace from here. I wonder if William will let us stop to get food and stretch our legs?”