Now alone in the tent, Crow didn’t know what to think. That morning, he had been fretting about whether or not he was going to have his hands cut off by the knights. He hadn’t been at all prepared to find out that his father was still looking for him and that he had sent John of all people to come find him. There was just so much going on all at once, he couldn’t wrap his head around it.

He closed his eyes and rested his forearm across his face, feeling overwhelmed by the turbulent emotions inside of him. There was lingering fear about the barons, since, if he denied the invitation to have an audience with the king, they could still choose to cripple him. But now, in addition to that, there was also a roiling tangle of anger, hurt, and disgust that resurfaced within him towards the man who had abandoned his family. He didn’t care what status his father held. The bastard had ruined his mother’s reputation and left them both to fend for themselves in the outer villages. He had never wanted anything to do with Albin before, and he certainly didn’t now. Just the thought of standing face to face with the man made him taste bile. He wasn’t sure if he could bring himself to do it.

Crow’s thoughts were interrupted when the flap of the tent shifted again. He glanced at it halfheartedly, expecting that Gavin had returned to continue guarding him now that John had left. However, instead of the knight, he was both surprised and relieved to see that it was Penelope who had come to see him. As she approached his bed, he opened his mouth to greet her but was cut off when she spoke up first in a voice that was laced with confusion and worry.

At her question, he shifted uncomfortably, unsure what to say. Part of him was hesitant to tell her what was going on, since he didn’t like to discuss anything relating to his father, but he knew he couldn’t keep it from her forever. Even if he chose not to say anything, surely John would explain to her that the king had invited him to come to the castle. If she was going to know what was happening, she deserved to hear it from him first. He had to tell her.

“Well,” Crow started tentatively, looking up to meet her gaze. “There’s… something else I haven’t told you—but in my defense, it’s only because I forgot about it, myself.” He added the second part quickly, not wanting her to think that he had been lying to her again. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he went on to explain: “Last year, I received a letter from the king of Brerra. One of his couriers came to the outer villages looking for me, but of course, he never found out where I was, so he gave it to Evelyn to hand over in his stead.”

He lowered his gaze, “She offered to read it to me, since I’m illiterate, but I didn’t want her to… I didn’t want to know what it said. At the time, I had just been hoping my father would see by my silence that I didn’t want anything to do with him and give up, but apparently, that was too much to ask for.” He sighed, reaching out to take her hand as he sought comfort in her touch. “He sent your father here to carry out his message in person. That’s why he wanted to talk to me… He said the king invited me to come to the castle for a private audience of some sort.”

Crow bit his lip and glanced up at her face again, trying to read how she was reacting to the news. “I… I’m not sure what to do,” he admitted softly. “I told him that I need time to think about it, and he gave me until the end of the day, but…” He trailed off, shaking his head helplessly. “Accepting the offer sounds better than losing my hands, but I don’t know if I can face my father after everything he’s done.”