Crow felt heavy as he walked with Penelope to lay down for the night, dreading to find out what the morning would bring. Gavin’s words hung in the back of his mind, incessantly reminding him of his mistake, whatever it had been. Even when he laid beside Penelope on the bedroll, he found it difficult to get comfortable. His instincts were telling him to get as far away from the others as he could before everything blew up in his face, but he couldn’t do that without practically admitting to Penelope that he really had sabotaged the patrol. If there was even the faintest chance that he could keep his secret from her, he couldn’t run away yet.

As she curled up against him, he wrapped an arm over her side to hold her close. “I love you too,” he murmured, burying his head against her neck and squeezing his eyes shut as he prayed that her words wouldn’t change in the morning. She had always been quick to forgive him in the past, but he was worried that her patience with him would eventually wear thin as he continued to break her trust. This time, he was scheming against her and her comrades to help a murderer continue to ruin her battalion’s efforts in the war. Of all the lies he had told her in the past, this one had the steepest consequences. He couldn’t imagine how she would react if she found out.

[i]That’s why she can never know,[/i] he thought, letting out his breath in a long sigh as he began to drift off into a fitful sleep.

--

Crow woke up the next morning to a throbbing in his head. He groaned and rolled over on his mat, grimacing as he was suddenly aware of the bright morning light over his head. Grabbing at his blanket, he pulled the fabric up and over his eyes to block out the torturous sun, but he didn’t have long before he heard the sound of footsteps followed by Gavin’s voice: “Get up,” he grunted in a voice that was thick with exhaustion, nudging the thief with his boot and then crouching down to gently shake Penelope’s shoulder.

Crow just groaned again in response, too tired to do anything else. He was just about to drift off again, when suddenly the events of the previous night came back to him at once. Paling at the memory of Gavin’s certainty that he had caught him, he shot upright on the bed, only to feel another sharp stab of pain plague his head at the abrupt motion. Closing his eyes, he brought a hand up to his forehead as he waited for it to pass. Fortunately, it seemed like he didn’t have a very bad hangover—the consistent throbbing was painful, but it wasn’t anything like some of the worse headaches he’d had in the past—but it was still enough to make him reluctant to stand up.

Opening one eye, he looked up to see that Gavin had already finished packing up most of the knights’ supplies aside from the bedrolls they had been sleeping on. He shifted his weight uncomfortably. It wouldn’t be much longer he found out if the knight really had proof that he had been working behind their backs. He turned to glance down at Penelope, hoping to think of a way to prevent Gavin from catching her alone.

After a moment of hesitation, he offered her a halfhearted smile. “Morning, love,” he sighed, rubbing his temple with one hand to ease the pounding. “I hope you’re not feeling as miserable as I am today…”