As soon as Penelope looked at him, Crow could tell she wasn’t feeling very optimistic about the party. The worry was written all over her face and there was a strain in her chuckle that betrayed her concerns. His smile faded slightly as he wished he could do more to comfort her than simply touch her leg beneath the table. With only a few more hours left until the event, he couldn’t risk tarnishing her reputation though. They didn’t have time to undo the damage if a nosy nobleman happened to catch sight of them expressing anything more than casual indifference toward each other. For now, the best he could do was listen and hope he could conjure up a few words to make her feel better.

“Well that’s fine,” he shrugged, casting her a teasing look. “Because I’ve got enough of an appetite for both of us.” Feigning a stretch, he pressed both of his legs against hers briefly before retreating to his side of the table. “It’s just nerves,” he added reassuringly. “You’ll probably get hungry by supper and eat all the hors d’oeuvres.” He smirked, pleased with himself for remembering the word Udolf had taught him to refer to food served at noble social events. In the outer villages, everyone just plucked samples from a widespread buffet.

As she explained that she was afraid to mess up again, he sighed. “I already know you’re not going to believe me, but that wasn’t your fault,” he held her gaze with a frown. “You can’t blame yourself for losing a fight against a professional murderer who was twice your size. Besides,” he leaned toward her to keep his voice down. “Toreus wouldn’t have said something to you if he didn’t think you could do it. I’m sure it’s all going to work out exactly as it’s supposed to.” He had been nervous about the party too a few days ago, but between John’s advice and his own internal reviews of the situation, his uncertainties had dwindled from a flame to an ember.

“Just relax,” his smile returned. “By the end of today, it will all be behind you, and we can finally move forward with… well, [i]us[/i].”