Crow nodded when Penelope said she was going to work on writing more letters. Between everything else that was going on lately, he’d nearly forgotten about her plan to bring the war to a peaceful end. He let out a quiet sigh. After the brutal nightmare he’d just had, he was all the more eager to see the fighting stop as well. There was far too much violence going on in the outer villages. He and the rest of the peasants in the kingdom needed a break from it all.

As Penelope and Cedric spoke to each other, the viceroy lapsed into thoughtful silence. He tried to pay attention to their conversation but found it difficult as his mind kept wandering back to his dream. As hard as he tried to move on from it, he couldn’t get it out of his head. It frustrated him that something that hadn’t really even happened had affected him so much. It had just been a nightmare, but he was fixated on it like he’d really experienced everything.

[i]Well, technically I have,[/i] he grimaced as he recalled the real slaughter in Tamsworth and the battle in Jaxon’s camp. Of course, neither event had happened the way they had in his dream. In the village, he had been running toward an overturned cart to hide, but he hadn’t gotten cut off by a tax collector—the man had ridden up from behind him and slashed his side with a sword. He hadn’t even seen it coming. The fight with Jaxon had been more similar, but he hadn’t actually been alone with the murderer, and he hadn’t pleaded for his life either.

Crow absently brought a hand to his side, where the scar from his childhood was concealed beneath his tunic. He could still feel the shadow of the blade that had cut through him long ago, and he wished the memory would stop assaulting him in his sleep. It was already hard enough to deal with when it happened to pass through his mind during the day. He didn’t need the added stress of reliving the nightmare while he was trying to rest at night.

Lost in thought, it took a moment for him to realize Penelope had asked him a question. He looked up at her blankly for a moment until he recalled what she had said. “Yeah,” he answered with a shrug. “Unless I’m told otherwise, I’d assume that’s what I’m doing every day.” Glancing over her shoulder, he saw that Preston had returned with his breakfast. The boy set the plate down in front of him and tested it quickly before giving a short bow and leaving the group of nobles alone again.

Crow looked down at the food his attendant had brought, suddenly wishing he’d asked the boy to bring him a smaller portion than usual. He still didn’t have much of an appetite that morning, and he wasn’t sure if he could finish it all. Regardless, he didn’t want to draw attention to himself, so he forced himself to eat what he could while he was sitting with the others.