Hazel relaxed slightly as the knight thanked her for telling her what had happened. She nodded curtly and averted her gaze. She didn’t like how courteous Penelope was being. It made it harder to hate her. She honestly would have preferred her to be unpleasant, just so she wouldn’t have to feel so conflicted.

She shifted and glanced back at the door. Having fulfilled her end of the bargain by telling this woman that Crow was still alive, she wanted to hurry up and go back to the camp. Her mind wandered to Simon’s warm company, and she wondered offhandedly if the thief was still awake. If he was, she intended to go straight to him when she returned, eager to put this disagreeable meeting behind her and spend time with someone whose company she genuinely enjoyed.

However, before she had a chance to leave, Penelope spoke up again, rambling on about what was happening in the knights’ camp. For a moment, Hazel stared blankly at her, confused as to why the noble was going on about such things. Was she trying to be friendly, or perhaps exchange information for what she had told her to begin with? [i]This must be the content of those regular meetings she had with Crow,[/i] she realized suddenly. The knight wasn’t just talking for the sake of hearing her own voice. She was giving her the news she would have normally given the leader of the thieves.

“Err, thanks, I guess,” she mumbled, unsure what else to say in response. “I’ll let them know.”

For a moment, a brief silence fell over them, and Hazel hoped that meant their meeting had come to an end. She took a hesitant step backwards, preparing to turn and leave, but then faltered as she saw Penelope lower her gaze. There was a genuine concern in her eyes that caught the cold-hearted herbalist off guard.

She watched the knight observantly for a moment before answering her question. “Actually, his illness is the reason why he isn’t here,” she explained, softening slightly despite herself. “His injury was bad, but it will heal. As for whatever is going on inside of him…” She averted her gaze, uncomfortably aware of the fact that Crow’s waning health was a reflection of her failure to treat him. “I’m not sure how much he has told you, but there are essentially three phases to this disease. The first,” she held up her index finger as she began counting off. “A simple cough that occurs off and on. The second, episodes of fatigue that appear to be triggered by strenuous exercise. And the third,” she paused, pursing her lips together before going on. “The third phase is when the afflicted can no longer move on his own and has begun to cough up blood.”

She tapped her foot on the dusty floor, “It appears the attack of the Younisians was the last straw that pushed Crow over the edge into this final phase. He’s currently bedridden in our camp, which is why he sent me in his place to tell you what happened.”