Liz stared at Crow, taken aback by his harsh words. A number of emotions flickered across her face, ranging from shock to hurt to anger, until she finally settled on the latter. “Forget it,” she huffed, tossing her hair. Any semblance of injury had fled from her features, replaced only by the coldness the viceroy had seen beneath her fake smiles from the start. “For the record, my father is the one who wanted this, not me. He thought that since you had slept with me once when we were younger, you would want me again when you saw the kind of woman I’ve become.” She rose from the table, smoothing down the dress that hugged her hourglass curves.

“But if you’re going to be this pigheaded, you’re not worth my time,” she went on arrogantly. “I will not sit here and be insulted when there are dozens of wealthier, more [i]handsome[/i] men than you who would fight to have a wife like me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to spend my supper with them.”

“You do that,” Crow said in a deadpan tone, rolling his eyes as he watched her take on another hurt expression. It was obvious that she was trying to look like a victim as she walked away from him, so that some gullible fool would swoop in to save the wounded damsel in distress. He didn’t care though. As long as she was done pestering him, she could wrap as many other men around her witch finger as she pleased.

“That seemed unnecessary,” Preston, who had overheard everything while he’d been taste testing the viceroy’s food, mumbled incredulously.

“She’s too dramatic for her own good,” Crow scoffed. In the next moment, he caught sight of Penelope on her way to join him at the table and smiled, happy to see a friendlier face than the one that had just left. At her comment, he shrugged, “Actually, this time I think she got the message. She shouldn’t bother us again.” He hoped not, at least. Even if Liz had given up on winning him over, the noblewoman had a propensity for stirring up trouble. He would just have to keep an eye on her for the next few days while she was still fuming over the fact that he wasn’t as easily bought as she’d wanted.

At Penelope’s following question, the viceroy bit the inside of his lip, reminded of the mixed results of the council meeting that he still needed to share with her. “He did…” he answered slowly. “Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”