Crow slid a little further beneath the blanket, averting his gaze uncomfortably as John and Penelope spoke. Why did it have to be her [i]father[/i] of all people who had come into the room tonight? He could have lied his way out of this mess if it had been Hunter or another servant who had stopped by, since no one else knew he and Penelope were together. Instead, it had to be the one person who knew exactly who was hidden underneath the blanket with him who decided to show up at that moment. Worse still, it was the only person who would be angry about catching them sleeping together. He wanted to bury himself underneath the bedsheets in discomfort.

As John turned on him with a glare, Crow shrank beneath his cold gaze and nodded dully at the older knight’s order to get dressed. The rebellious part of him was almost tempted to defend himself and Penelope, since they were their own people and had every right to be intimate if they wished, but he knew that would just make the situation worse. Nobles weren’t the same as peasants anyway. From what he knew, parents of noblemen and women had much more control over their children than anyone in the outer villages did. He’d be fighting against John’s culture if he tried to push his own values on the knight. So, deciding it wasn’t worth the effort, he held his tongue.

Once Penelope’s father left, Crow fell back onto the mattress and pulled the blanket over his head with a groan. “Gods, he’s going to kill me, isn’t he?” he muttered sourly, his voice muffled by the thick fabric that was covering his face. As much as he wanted to just crawl underneath the small mountain of pillows on the bed and pretend like the awkward moment had never happened, he knew it wouldn’t be long before John came back into the room expecting them to be fully dressed. So, forcing down his discomfort, he climbed off the bed to retrieve his clothes from the floor and put them back on.

Not long after they were decent again, another knock sounded on the door, followed by a slightly longer pause before John stepped back into the room. Crow leaned back against the bottom bedpost with his arms folded defensively over his chest and his gaze averted from the knight’s, leaving some distance between himself and Penelope to keep from angering her father more. Unfortunately, the gesture did little to improve the older man’s bitter mood.

“So,” John growled, looking between the two with narrowed eyes. “Would one of you care to explain to me what the hell you two think you were doing?”