As soon as all three men were inside the council chambers, Albin closed the door behind them and circled around Crow, observing him with interest. “My, my,” he mused. “You certainly are my son, aren’t you?” He moved to stand in front of the thief with an amused smile. “I’ve seen your wanted posters, but I have to say, I never expected you to look this much like me in person.”

“You almost sound proud of that,” Crow muttered, avoiding his father’s piercing green eyes. He hated how much he was being reminded of his appearance today, since it wasn’t something he liked about himself. “I would have thought you’d be disappointed that your bastard son bears any resemblance to you.”

Albin chuckled lightly, “It certainly makes things a bit more difficult, but I’m not disappointed by any means.” He gestured at the council table in the center of the room. “Have a seat wherever you’d like, Crow. We have much to catch up on.”

The thief shifted his weight uncertainly. His father was much different than he had expected him to be. After two decades of building the man up in his head as the vilest person to walk the Earth, he was caught off guard by his amicable nature and charismatic personality. He had to remind himself not to trust the silver words that flowed off the king’s tongue, since his mother had told him long ago how manipulative Albin could be. He may have been acting friendly now, but it had to be because he wanted something.

After a moment of hesitation, Crow stepped over to the table and sat down in one of the chairs. Even though he had decided to keep his guard up around the king, he still needed to find out what the man wanted from him.

Albin seemed pleased with his compliance and moved to sit in the chair directly adjacent to him. “So,” he exhaled and leaned forward, lacing his fingers together as he rested his forearms on the stone table. “Tell me about yourself.”

Crow blinked, unprepared for the question. He had been expecting his father to get straight to the point, not spend time ‘catching up’ with his estranged son. He wasn’t sure how to answer the question either. No matter who Albin was to him, he wasn’t about to open up about himself to a man he had just met. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d prefer to talk about the reason you invited me here,” he said slowly, trying to redirect the conversation.

“And we will,” Albin said dismissively. “But first, I want to learn more about [i]you[/i].” His lip quirked upward in another warm smile. “I know all about the face you put on as a thief, but I want to know the man beneath all that. Tell me more about my son.”

“If you really wanted to know me, then why didn’t you stay when you found out my mother was pregnant?” Crow narrowed his eyes accusingly. Despite his efforts to remain civil with Albin, he couldn’t help the bitterness that leaked into his words.

At his question, Albin’s expression turned melancholic, catching the thief by surprise yet again. “I wish I had,” he sighed. “Not a day goes by when I don’t think about Madeleine and what I did to her. She deserved so much better. I’m sorry I let her—and you—down all those years ago.”

Crow faltered. He had expected his father to get defensive or give him some ridiculous excuse about having to choose his status over his mother, not apologize for what he’d done. Still, that didn’t explain everything. “But you called her a harlot,” he ventured warily. “She told me you ruined her reputation.”

“I know, and I did,” Albin shook his head sadly. “It was a terrible decision, but I panicked. I did care for your mother, but I had just been named the viceroy to the king. I was afraid of losing everything I had worked for, and I wanted to save myself from the consequences of what I had done. However,” he held up his hand as Crow opened his mouth to speak. “That doesn’t make what I did right, and I acknowledge that. I was twenty years old back then, Crow. I was young and foolish. Can you really hold something against me that I did as a scared and unprepared boy? Surely you’ve done things that you regret as well.”

Crow stiffened slightly as Hazel’s face appeared in his mind. It was hard to disagree with his father when he knew the man was right. He had hurt the herbalist when he had led her on years ago—when he had been younger and more naïve. How could he hold a grudge against his father for doing the same thing? As much as he hated to admit it, it was getting harder to stay mad at the king now that he’d heard his side of the story.

Albin seemed to catch that he’d struck a chord with the thief. “See? You must understand,” he pressed. “I truly wish that I hadn’t hurt Madeleine, but I can’t change the past. The only thing I can do now is try to make things right with my son.” He reached out to rest a hand on Crow’s arm.

Crow looked up to meet his father’s gaze. “And just how do you plan to do that?”

“By offering you the position I held before the last king passed,” Albin’s warm smile returned. “Crow, I want you to be my viceroy.”

The thief fell into a stunned silence. His father wanted him to be a royal [i]ambassador[/i]? His startled eyes flicked to John, but the knight was gawking at them with as much surprise as Crow felt. He turned back to Albin, stammering slightly as he found his voice, “I-I’m sorry… What?”

“You heard me,” Albin laughed, seeming to find his reaction entertaining. “I want you to be my viceroy. I can’t take back my mistakes of the past, but I can still move forward with my son, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

“Yeah, I got that part,” Crow leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose as he took a moment to process what was going on. “But why do you want to give me such an honored title? I’m not a noble, and I certainly don’t have the training or qualifications needed for that position. And wouldn’t the rest of your followers be upset with you for giving a criminal such a job?”

Albin chuckled again. “You’re my son, so you’re already nobility by birthright,” he said simply. “As for your qualifications, you’re already more prepared for this job than any other noble in this kingdom.” He leaned a little further forward as his eagerness seeped into his voice. “It seems you took after more than just my appearance, Crow, because I heard about your talents with other languages from William when he returned from your mission in Younis. Combined with that charisma you’re so well-known for, you already have the makings of a skilled viceroy. All that’s left is to educate you on any gaps in your knowledge, and that shouldn’t take longer than one or two years if you work hard enough.” His smile broadened. “Any nobles who disagree with me will see soon enough what a perfect fit you are for the position, so I’m not concerned about them either.”

Crow bit the inside of his lip. It sounded like his father had given this quite a bit of thought, but he didn’t think he wanted to accept the offer. He had always hated nobles and their way of life. Nothing about it was appealing to him. He liked his life in the outer villages, too. He had good friends, and he was doing quite well for himself as a thief. How could he give all that up to work for the king?

Suddenly, he thought of Penelope, and his heartbeat quickened in his chest. He didn’t like the idea of accepting his father’s offer, but if he did, he would be given the title of a noble. She wouldn’t have to give anything up to be with him, because he would have risen to the same rank that she held.

[i]But what about our life in Farhill?[/i] His heart protested. [i]The life we pictured can’t happen if I take this job.[/i] But what if Penelope would be happier if he did? He exhaled and ran a hand through his hair, feeling conflicted. “I don’t know…” he murmured, looking up to meet his father’s gaze again. “It’s a lot to think about.”

“You don’t have to decide right now,” Albin assured him. “Take all the time you need. And while you’re thinking about it, please, make yourself at home in the castle. My attendant can show you to your room.”

“Thanks,” Crow nodded absently, still caught up in his own thoughts as he tried to work through everything his father had just said to him.

“You’re quite welcome,” Albin said, standing up from the table. “If you need anything else or feel ready to tell me what you’ve chosen, come and find me at any time.”

“I will,” Crow nodded again, rising to his feet a bit dazedly.

Albin stepped closer to embrace him, patting the thief heartily on the back. “I’m glad I was finally able to meet you, son,” he grinned as he moved back to open the door again. His pale green eyes followed Crow as he exited the room before the friendly expression disappeared from his face, and he turned to John with a stern frown, “Make sure the guards are prepared the next time he approaches me. I want them ready to arrest Lockton if he denies my offer.”