“Well, I just hope that was the last time then,” Crow muttered when Penelope said she couldn’t do anything to keep her comrades away. He was tired and irritable from the constant ache of his wound, so he didn’t want to have to face any more knights from the camp. Granted, Mia had been more tolerable company than he’d been expecting—she was the first noble besides Penelope to use his name—but that didn’t mean he wanted to make a habit of chatting with her comrades. Even though he had made some exceptions, he disliked most knights, and they disliked him. He preferred to stay away from people he considered to be enemies while he was recovering from a near fatal wound that had left him vulnerable to attack.

Crow was drawn from his thoughts when Penelope took him by the hand. He looked up at her as she asked about what her baroness had said to him. “Well,” he started slowly, thinking over what had been said between them. “She mostly asked about you—wanted to know how long we’ve been working together, why I saved you, and other things like those.” He studied her face, realizing that she must have been worried about her leader asking exactly those questions.

Giving her hand a comforting squeeze, he went on with a proud grin, “I don’t know why she thought she would get anything out of me. If I can endure your brother’s excessive interrogation techniques, I can handle a simple questioning in my sleep.” His expression softened as he held her gaze. “She may still suspect that we’re close, but she has no proof, and she’s not going to get any.” Suddenly, he blinked as another thought came to him. “Oh, she also said she was going to come back to talk to me again before she and the other barons make their decision about what to do with me.”