Crow watched Penelope as she walked over to the table and sat down across from him. It still felt strange to see her in a setting like this, since it reminded him so much of their plans two years ago. He could almost imagine that they had gone back in time to that first day when he had been waiting for her at the Black Dagger. He would have seen her walk in through the door and gotten up to greet her with a kiss after being apart for a week. Then, they would have gone off to Farhill, where—

[i]Stop,[/i] he averted his gaze, trying to block out the wistful thoughts. [i]You can’t change the past, so stop thinking about it.[/i] He pushed down on his emotions, forcing himself to ignore them until he couldn’t feel them anymore. He reminded himself that he needed to keep a level head while he met with the knight. There was no room for feelings here. Emotions and nostalgia for the past would just get in the way and cloud his judgment. At least for now, he had to set them aside.

He had almost managed to do it when Penelope spoke up suddenly. He stiffened at her words as he was reminded of the fact that he had told her about Myrefall being his home village long ago. Even though he didn’t think she would spread such information about him to anyone else, he wished he hadn’t opened up to her so much so quickly. They were no longer together, but she still knew more about him than anyone else. It was unsettling to think that there was someone out there who knew of his home, his past, and even his real name.

When she went on to change the subject, he relaxed slightly, relieved that she didn’t seem to expect him to tell her anything more about his life in Myrefall. Unless things ever changed between them and they grew close again—which he doubted would ever happen now that she was being seriously courted by a nobleman—the days of his openness with her were over.

After Penelope finished explaining everything she had learned about the knights over the past three days, Crow leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Just one,” he said in response to her question. “When and where is this battle going to happen?” It felt strange to speak with her so formally, but he wasn’t sure how else to approach her. Besides, this was the information that he and the other thieves had been trying to get their hands on for the last few weeks. They needed to know where the next battle would be so they could be prepared to assist the villagers that would inevitably get caught in the middle.

Still, as he held her gaze across the table, the thief felt a wave of discomfort. Despite everything he kept telling himself, he didn’t feel right about just using her for information and going on his way. Trying to ignore the feeling, he reached for his mug and downed a sip of mead, glancing off to the side as a small group of peasant men walked into the tavern.