Celyn froze. “Griffith? How do you know?”
Nona’s eyes widened in shock at Thomas’ words.
A wry smile touched Thomas’ lips, lightening the shadows in his eyes, and he shrugged. “He is much like you. And besides, he spoke to me of you.”
“He spoke—” Celyn cut off, trying to get his thoughts in order. “What did he say?”
“He asked if you were a monk. When I told him no, he said he was glad that killing a monk would not be on his conscience.”
Celyn snorted. “Conscience. I fear he has long stopped listening to it.” Betrayer. Coward. Griffith’s voice whispered through his mind, but he ignored it. Harder to ignore what Thomas had said, though. Griffith was closer to the truth than Thomas suspected.
Ever since he had avenged his family’s murder by the wild Saxon’s capture and death, a lo
