“So, where did you pick up all those languages without ever having a proper tutor?”
On the walk to the Great Hall, Crow and John had kept up their idle conversation as a means to pass the time. The talk had slowly turned from a casual exchange into what felt to the viceroy like an interrogation. John had begun to ask him more personal questions in the stead of discussing what his lessons were going to look like or what he should expect if his father ended up sending him on the trip to Gorm. He wondered where the sudden interest had come from, but knowing there was a chance he might pop the fragile bubble of the knight’s newfound trust, he didn’t ask. Whatever it was, he finally had an opportunity to get a little closer with Penelope’s father, and he wasn’t going to pass it up.
“The travelers in the outer villages,” Crow answered with a proud grin. “I used to converse with them as a child, and I just picked up their tongues as I gained experience.”
John grunted. Crow was learning that he did that a lot when he was thinking.
“You managed all that on your own?” the knight queried, to which the viceroy nodded. Another grunt, “I suppose I can see why the king spent so much time trying to track you down.”
Crow shrugged, “He could have been training another apprentice all this time though. I may be quick, but he had no way of knowing whether I would agree to his proposition. To be honest, I’m a little surprised he put so much effort into finding me.”
“It’s hard to say,” John admitted. “But knowing the king, I’m sure he had a reason for it.”
“He did,” Crow frowned, mentally reviewing the talk he’d had with his father upon his arrival at the castle. He casted a short look around before explaining in a low voice, “He said he wanted to make up for the past—to reconnect.” His light green eyes studied John’s deep jade, suddenly uncertain. “You were there. Do you think there was more to it than that?”
The knight pursed his lips, pausing for a moment before he replied, “I would be cautious.”
Crow’s shoulders fell slightly. Though he wasn’t close to his father—he’d used to hate the man—he had recently been starting to hope his preconceptions about him had been wrong. He’d gone for so long without a family. The thought of finally having one again was exciting. However, John knew Albin far better than he did. Perhaps there was more going on than he knew about.
Penelope’s father seemed to sense the viceroy squirm. “Now is not the time to discuss this,” he uttered quietly, his eyes flicking to a guard up ahead. “The Great Hall is around the corner.”
Crow nodded, biting back the questions that had begun to bubble up inside him. He knew the knight was right. With so many unfriendly ears around, any negative talk of the king of Brerra would likely come off as treasonous. So, despite his reservations, he followed wordlessly along until they arrived at the Great Hall for supper.
Right away, the viceroy’s gaze swept over the room in search of Penelope, but he didn’t see her. Supposing he must have arrived first, he bid John a curt goodbye—the older man was already eyeing a table where a few other knights were seated—and made his way over to an empty seat, sliding onto the bench and resting his forearms on the wooden surface. Stifling a yawn, he glanced over the Great Hall once more as he suddenly realized Penelope wasn’t the only one missing. He hadn’t seen Preston since breakfast.
Crow was just about to stand up to get his own supper from the kitchen when, as if on cue, a familiar voice spoke up from behind him.
“There you are,” Preston’s tone nearly sounded scolding. He walked up to the table and crossed his arms. “I was waiting for you in your chamber all evening to walk you to the Great Hall. Surely your lesson didn’t take that—” Abruptly, he halted, his dark eyes roving down and up the viceroy’s frame. “Did you fall in the river?”
Crow snorted at the absurd accusation, “I took a bath.”
“Willingly?”
“Yes,” the former thief rolled his eyes. “That knight had me rolling in the dirt, so I decided to clean myself up.”
Preston studied him closely, “He told you to, didn’t he?”
Crow flushed at the attendant’s surprisingly accurate statement. “Alright, fine,” he grumbled irritably. “But he didn’t make me do anything. It was still my decision.”
Preston shrugged.
The viceroy shook his head, “Why don’t you just cut the accusations and bring me my supper?”
“Alright,” the attendant dipped his head and walked off, leaving Crow behind to wait for his evening meal.
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