Apparently, there was a lot more to horseback riding than Crow had expected going into his first lesson. From the way he held his reins to the pressure he applied with his heels, almost every move he made was an indicator to his horse about what to do. Baine responded to each twitch and tug with obedient precision, even if the motion had been made accidentally by the novice on his back; and occasionally, he pawed at the ground in frustration when the viceroy inadvertently sent him mixed signals. The learning curve was steep, and it became clear that it was going to take much more time and effort before he would feel comfortable enough to manage the stallion without oversight.

Above all, John stressed the importance of proper posture, explaining that a rider could easily lose his balance or fall off his mount if he wasn’t stable. At first, Crow hadn’t taken him very seriously, but as soon as he began to practice transitioning from a walk to a trot, he realized quickly that he would have to follow the knight’s directions if he didn’t want to give himself a headache from being jostled about by the horse’s bumpy gait. From then on, he focused more intently on matching Baine’s movement when they increased speed. Rather than just sitting in his saddle and being bounced by the animal, he raised and lowered his rear the way the older man described to make the ride more comfortable for both him and his steed.

By the end of the lesson, he was able to command the stallion to walk, stop, change directions, and even trot in a straight line. John seemed impressed with his progress, though it was hard to tell for sure since his facial expression rarely changed. The biggest clue he offered was a comment he made when they were back in the king’s stable preparing their horses to be returned to their stalls.

“Your father has instructed me to make sure you’re ready to handle the trip to Gorm before the end of three weeks,” the knight announced as they disassembled their individual saddles. “However, I think you’ll be ready well before then.”

Crow casted him a sidelong glance, slightly surprised to hear any praise come out of the stoic man’s mouth. It was flattering, but for once, the egotistical former thief couldn’t bring himself to accept the compliment. “I don’t know about that,” he said apprehensively, sliding Baine’s saddle down from his tall back to return to storage. “I almost ran him into the fence at least five times. Isn’t the border between Brerra and Gorm mountainous?”

“It is, but there’s a wide trade route that the king outlined for your trip to decrease the risk of any accidents,” John explained.

“What about ice?” Crow objected. “It hasn’t been cold enough to snow here yet, but it’s still almost winter. I thought the mountains were supposed to be dangerous at this time of year.”

“You’ll be fine as long as you stay alert,” Penelope’s father asserted. He pursed his lips and stopped what he was doing to turn toward his student, lowering his voice as he added: “Besides, it’s entirely possible that you won’t have to go at all.”

“I hope not,” the viceroy sighed. He glanced at John briefly before they both finished putting their riding gear away and returned the horses to their stalls.

Walking back to the castle, Crow kicked a small rock down the dirt path as his mind wandered to the upcoming party and his father’s decision. He wished he could do more to help Penelope convince Albin to seek a peaceful end with Younis, but at the moment, all he could do was wait and hope everything she was doing would be enough. It was impossible to tell if the king could be persuaded when they were so close to his scheduled departure for Gorm. If the support she rallied wasn’t enough, there would be nothing else they could do. It was frustrating to feel so helpless.

John seemed to notice the dip in his mood. “Everything will fall into place,” he said suddenly, interrupting the silence that had fallen over them. “There’s no point in worrying.”

Crow jerked his gaze up at him, startled by the knight’s accurate reading of his thoughts. In the next moment, a curt scoff escaped his mouth, and he looked away again. “Was I really that obvious?” a half smile tugged at his lip as he shook his head. “I want to believe that, I really do, but nothing ever seems to go according to my plans. If I’d had it my way, Penelope and I would have moved to Farhill two years ago, and this whole damn war never would have happened.” He shrugged, unsure why he was suddenly being honest with a man he barely knew but unable to stop the words from tumbling out now that they had started.

“I still wish everything could go back to the way it was before,” he confessed dully. “It’s all so much more complicated now. I miss the times when it was just the two of us—when I didn’t have to make sure we were alone just so I could touch her hand. Now, I don’t know what to expect anymore. Every time I look at her face, there’s a part of me that remembers the first time I lost her. The thought of that happening again…” He trailed off, taking a slow breath. “It scares me. And the worst part is that until something changes in this war, I know it could still happen again.”

Avoiding John’s gaze, the viceroy stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets uncomfortably. He hadn’t meant to spill everything on his mind, especially to a knight who had professed to dislike him before, but the fears had been stewing inside of him for so long that they refused to be contained anymore. Now that it was all out on the table, he could tell by the lingering silence that it had been a mistake to share them at all. He parted his lips to tell the other man to forget what he’d just said, but before he could speak, he felt a strong hand on his shoulder.

“First of all,” John’s deep voice seemed to resonate more than usual as it cut through the quiet. “I’m glad she didn’t run away with you two years ago. You say there was a time when it was ‘just the two of you,’ but that’s not true. Penelope has always had people in her life who care about her, including myself, and I would have hunted you to the ends of the earth to get her back.” Crow could have sworn he saw a glimmer of amusement in the older man’s stern visage.

“Even if it wasn’t by your own choice, I think it was wise for you both to be patient,” the knight continued. “Just look at where you are now. You’ve gone from criminal to noble, and my daughter became a lieutenant. Neither of those things would have happened if you had been impulsive and pushed for something before its time.” He met the viceroy’s solemn gaze earnestly. “Just because your life looks different than you had imagined doesn’t mean it’s worse. Keep being patient. There’s a saying that good things come to those who wait, and I think you’ll find that there’s more truth to it than you ever thought possible if you just give it a chance.”

Crow stared at him, taken aback by the sudden, heartfelt advice. He’d never had a figure in his life who had spoken to him this way before. Even his own mother’s kind words hadn’t stirred the same feelings in him that John’s did. It was strangely comforting to hear the older man willingly step into his mess and help him find his way out of it. The situation wasn’t resolved by any means, but at least now he knew there was someone more knowledgeable than himself that he could fall back on when he needed to. For the first time, he wondered if this was what it would have been like if his father had been involved in his life.

“Thanks,” he murmured bashfully, ruddy color tinting his cheeks. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop worrying when it comes to Penelope, but I’ll try to learn to be okay with it when things don’t go my way.”

John nodded, giving the viceroy’s shoulder an approving squeeze before dropping his hand back down to his side. They walked the rest of the way back to the castle in silence, though Crow was more noticeably more content than he had been before.