But despite his own words, Guy insisted he was going to stay out looking, going from town to town, to hunt for any last leads. He had a few old acquaintances whose ears were still on the ground, and they were worth visiting. His men offered to go with him, but he ordered them to return to the castle.

“I know it’s pointless, and I won’t have any of you wasting your time. This is just for me. I’ll see you in a day or so.”

They begrudgingly obeyed. Devon of York lingered last, thanking Guy for trusting his instincts, fruitless though they were. Guy felt for the young man. This victory would have bolstered his confidence, and his sense of belonging. The others were sure to accept his strange addition to their ranks if he could prove himself useful, but Robert FitzOdo had stolen that opportunity. Devon’s plan had worked flawlessly, but still felt like a complete defeat.

“I think maybe you were right, earlier. About right and wrong,” Guy said, just before Devon climbed onto his horse. “Maybe they do exist. I’ll ask ahead of time that you don’t repeat this to the others. I need to be ironclad—it wouldn’t do to be too passionate about this. But they’re coming, even now, even thinking about it.”

Guy turned away from Devon’s confused reaction to blink away whatever tears were rising. He had been where Jon Bassett was before. Alone, trapped, relying solely on his companions to save him. He had touched something within himself, down in that hole, something he never wanted to feel again.

“Some things, you tell yourself they’re right, so you feel better doing them. And they stack up. You’re too young for that now, but over the years you’ll carry them. They’ll hurt. The choices will, and the grey is a heavy thing.

“But what they’ve done to Jon Bassett, that’s pure wrong. That’s why I’m still here. Because when I think of the alternative, my stomach shrinks and my skin goes cold. Jon’s out there. He’s a prisoner, and he’s alone, and he needs us. Every step we’ve taken since yesterday, every bite, every laugh we’ve had when we’ve forgotten ourselves, every breath, every blink, even while we sleep, we’ve done it while Jon’s been in a hole. He’s in a hole, and there are people that put him there who will beat him and starve him, and it’s all he knows. There isn’t a word in our language for these people. We never made one. We didn’t think we’d have to.”

Uncomfortable and fatigued as he was, Guy had a meal in his belly, a sword at his side, and companions. Jon Bassett had none of that.