As the wench walked away, Crow let his gaze wander over the dining area with passive interest. He noticed the people who were still staring at them and whispering amongst themselves, but no one looked angry or otherwise threatening, so his initial tenseness had begun to fade. Instead, he was caught up in the realization that it was the first time he had stayed in a place like this and technically belonged. The nobles that once peered down their noses at him were all his equals—or even beneath him, since he held the most prominent title outside of being a member of the royal family.

[i]And I’m even part of that lineage,[/i] he shook his head incredulously at the thought. Albin’s ascension to the throne and persistence in seeking him out had changed everything. It still boggled his mind that he was the illegitimate firstborn son of their now king and that the man he had once loathed was now his caretaker and the provider of everything he owned. Toying with the gold colored hem of his sleeve, his thoughts wandered back to his mother as he pondered what she would think if she knew about the decisions he had made since he’d come to the inner kingdom. She had always been clear that she hated everything to do with nobles and despised the man who had left them. He could still hear the echo of her voice in his memory:

[i]“You’ll be alright, Collin,” Madeleine Lockton combed her fingers gently through her son’s hair. She was lying on her back on the bed in their house in Myrefall, swaddled in blankets from her toes to her chest. It was about six months before illness claimed her life, and her once lively face had become shadowed in weariness. Her blue eyes were dull, and her golden blonde sea of hair now looked like the straw that filled the mattress beneath her.

At her side, a younger Crow knelt on the ground with his arms folded on the edge of the bed and one of her weak hands clasped firmly in his. He was around twelve years old with dirt stains on his skin and old, woolen clothes on his back that had been torn and patched in numerous locations. Since his mother’s health had taken a sharp decline, he’d taken to sleeping on the unwashed floor and didn’t have time to think about bathing when he spent almost every second doing everything he could to help her recover. There was a part of him that knew his efforts were useless, but he hadn’t yet accepted that she was going to lose the battle.

“How do you know?” his voice broke in spite of his efforts to be steadfast when she couldn’t. It was a heavy burden for a twelve-year-old to bear, but he was determined to step up as the man of their family and take care of her, both physically and emotionally, until she was back on her feet. His head was resolute, but his pale green eyes betrayed the fear he felt in his heart. His mother was the only family he had left, and her life was hanging by a thread. If he lost her, he didn’t know what he would do.

“Because you’re strong,” Madeleine smiled at him feebly. “No matter what happens to me, I know you’ll be just fine. You’re a survivor, Collin.” As she spoke, her hand dropped down from his head to rest against his side, and he shivered at the feeling of her warm touch against the scar hidden beneath his shirt. Her gaze softened, “You’re already such a talented thief for your age, and you’ll only get better as time goes on. I’m not worried about you at all.”

He looked away, unconvinced. “Why…” he started slowly, biting his lip. His mother never reacted well to the subject he wanted to bring up, so he braced himself as he asked: “Why isn’t father still here?”

Immediately, the smile vanished from Madeleine’s face, and she lifted her gaze to the roof. “You don’t need him,” she said with a cold edge to her voice. “We’ve been just fine on our own.”

“I know,” he shuffled his feet sheepishly. “But you’ve never told me why he left… I don’t understand why I don’t have a father when he’s still alive.” The most he knew was that his father had done something to wrong his mother in the past and that whatever it was, she couldn’t even look him in the eye sometimes because she saw the likeness of the man who had abandoned them. He longed to fill in the gaps to finally know the truth.

“It’s for the best that you don’t,” Madeleine sighed, stoking his hair again though she kept her blue eyes fixed on the ceiling—avoiding his face.

“I don’t think so,” he frowned. “If… If you don’t get better,” just mentioning her death made his throat feel tight, “I don’t want to keep wondering forever. I want to know who my father is and why he isn’t here. You said you would tell me when I’m older, but what if there isn’t enough time—” Unable to keep fighting back against the roiling emotions inside of him, he choked and buried his head against her side, biting down hard on his lower lip to stifle the sobs that threatened to wrack his body. He couldn’t cry in front of her. He was supposed to be the strong one.

There was a long silence before his mother finally spoke again. “You’re right,” she relented in a murmur. “If you really want to know, then I shouldn’t take it to my grave.” Another pause followed before she took a slow breath and began: “You already know some of the story, that I met Albin at a tavern while he was passing through Tamsworth and that we spent the night together. What I didn’t tell you is that your father isn’t from the outer villages. He’s a nobleman from Erith… the ambassador to the king.”

“I’m related to a nobleman?” Crow looked up at his mother in shock.

“Yes,” Madeleine nodded, gingerly brushing the tears from the corners of his eyes. “But that was why he wouldn’t stay,” her gaze darkened as she went on. “He cared more about his reputation than he did about being a father to you. When I told him I was pregnant, he was horrified, and to protect himself, he began screaming that I had seduced him when he was drunk and that I had to take sole responsibility for the consequences of my own actions. All the knights in the village believed him, of course, and word soon spread that I was a harlot who had taken advantage of their precious viceroy.”

She looked away from him again with an icy expression, “Noblemen are nothing but vipers, Collin. They will use who and whatever they can to get ahead in the kingdom, and they only care about themselves. Your father was no different than all the rest. Don’t you ever forget that.”

“I won’t,” he promised.[/i]

“Collin?”

Crow blinked dazedly as he realized he had gotten lost in his thoughts, brought back to the present by a nudge in his side. He turned to see that Percival and Preston had arrived at the table, and the latter was seated next to him with a concerned expression. “Sorry,” he flushed, embarrassed to have been caught zoning. “I got a little distracted.”

“A little?” Naida echoed dubiously. “I said your name three times.”

The viceroy winced. Caught up in the memory of his mother, he had missed the entire conversation. “Did you ask me something?”

“Yes,” his half-sister rolled her eyes. “I asked you what you’re going to do if Penelope can’t leave her battalion after she goes back.”

“Oh,” he mused. “To be honest, I haven’t thought about it. I’ve just been hoping that this war will dissolve quickly enough that we won’t have to wait.” He turned to the lieutenant with an affectionate smile. “Either way, though, I’m sure we’ll figure something out. We always do.” He winked at her playfully as he used the phrase she had said to him before.