Crow nodded when Penelope assured him that Elizabeth’s behavior hadn’t been his fault. He knew she was right, but he still felt guilty for dragging the knight into a part of his past that he would have rather forgotten about altogether. Plus, Liz was turning out to be quite a terrible person since they’d reunited the day before. When they had been together seven year ago, she had been just as confident, but he’d never heard her make any negative remarks about anyone other than her father—though he had never held that against her since the man had been so controlling in her life. To find out that she had become such a judgmental woman had been shocking to him.

As Penelope went on about the exchange, Crow watched her with a sympathetic frown. He could tell she was still upset about the things Liz had said to her, and he certainly didn’t blame her for feeling that way. He just hoped she didn’t let the arrogant noblewoman get to her, since everything Elizabeth had said had been wrong. Her beauty hadn’t been “stolen” just because she had a few marks on her skin, and just because some noblemen may have seen the blemishes as a reason not to marry her didn’t mean she would never get married. He still loved her regardless of the scars she bore. They would never be the reason that deterred him from spending the rest of his life with her.

Unfortunately, he suspected the knight was more bothered than she had admitted when she lifted her hand to her face to trace her scar. He felt a pang of frustration, angry that Elizabeth had hurt her so cruelly. Penelope was one of the bravest and kindest people he knew. She didn’t deserve to be ridiculed about a feature that, in his opinion, just proved how strong she was compared to the noblewomen who were too delicate to even get their soft hands dirty. Liz had no right to judge her for it.

Crow was drawn from his thoughts when Penelope spoke to him in a quiet voice. The nervousness in her tone made him wish he could gather her into his arms, but with all the other people around, he couldn’t let himself do it. He squeezed her hand beneath the table, trying to reassure her in a subtler way as he casted her an affectionate look. “Not at all,” he smiled at her fondly, speaking softly to keep the conversation between just the two of them. “Don’t listen to anything that witch told you. I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the kingdom, whether you have scars or not.”

He gently traced his thumb over her hand, his smile turning a bit more lighthearted as he added, “Besides, I think you’re even more perfect now because we match.” He gestured to the spots on his torso where he bore scars of his own, hoping the joke would help to cheer her up.