Crow let out a quiet groan when Penelope pointed out that they were probably just going to be worn out in new ways when they returned to the castle. He had no doubts about that. The nobles there already hated him enough—he felt quite certain that they were still hoping he would be hanged for his crimes—so they were probably going to be outraged when he suddenly flew past them all in rank and title. He hoped that none of them would be so angry as to lash out at him about it, but he expected that he was going to be sleeping with one eye open for a while after his father announced his new position to the entirety of the inner kingdom.

When they arrived at their room for the night, Crow stepped over to the bed with Penelope, slipping off his bag and sitting down on the edge to take his boots off. As she made a comment about William, he glanced up at her and smirked amusedly. “He might,” he shrugged, leaning back on the palms of his hands and arching his back in a long stretch. “But nobles gossip all the time. As long as we don’t let anyone catch us together, no one can claim it’s anything more than the petty rumors of a bitter man.”

He yawned again, feeling his weariness try to settle over him a bit more, and shifted to rest against the knight’s side. He pressed a few kisses to her jawline, trailing his hand across the length of her thigh. Despite his exhaustion, he didn’t want to sleep right away. “Do you think you’re too tired to stay up just a little longer?” he murmured, kissing her a couple more times on the neck. “When we get back to the castle, there’s no telling how long it’ll be until we can find time to be alone again.”