Even as he held Penelope in his arms, it all seemed like dream to Crow. He felt weak with relief now that he had seen her for himself—had touched her for himself—and knew she wasn’t dead. He squeezed his eyes shut as he held her, relishing the feeling of having her in his embrace again after so long. To make the situation even better, he felt her wrap her arms around him in return after a moment of hesitation. While the gesture wasn’t enough to tell him whether or not she still loved him, at the very least, she seemed glad to see him too.

After a bit, he felt her pull back from his arms. Not wanting to smother her after they had only just met up again, he forced himself to release her and took a small step back as well. Her following words made him frown. She seemed to be upset about something, but he wasn’t quite sure what. “I know, I know,” he said softly with a shrug. “It’s a camp full of knights, and I’m a criminal, right? Well, I don’t care. The risk was nothing if it meant I could see you.”

He moved close to her again and reached to tilt her head up so he could look her in the eye. However, as he did, he faltered slightly, catching sight of something he hadn’t noticed in his initial eagerness to see her. In the darkness it was hard to make out, but now that he was standing next to her, the thief could see a long scar cutting through the side of her face. “What happened?” he murmured, knitting his brow concernedly as he traced the blemish with his hand. “Who did this to you?”