Their eyes held. Griffyn nodded, accepting the indictment. “And?”
Alex’s gaze flickered in confusion. “And what?”
“And why else didn’t you tell me about the key?”
Alex flushed. He ran his hand over the wide window ledge, then over his mouth and chin, hard. “I don’t know,” he said. “’Twas a thing I liked, knowing, being the one who knew. The gatekeeper, I suppose.”
“The power.”
Alex nodded and looked over. “You didn’t take me to Ipsile. You took Fulk instead. Why?”
Griffyn shrugged. “I suspected before then. De Louth just confirmed it.”
“How did you know?”
He shrugged again. “You were too insistent, cared too much what I did with it. That’s what it does. I don’t need to be its scholar to know what it does. It makes men care about things that don’t matter. It takes our souls.”
The brazier fire had caught fully now, and its little flicking flames brightened the darkening room. Griffyn shifted. Took men’s souls, indeed. How close he had come. Once the seed of desire had been watered the slightest bit, it sprouted like a weed. How long had he been at the Nest? Just shy of three weeks, and within two days he’d been chasing rumours of it halfway across the shire. Leaving Guinevere the space to do what she had done.
He smiled bitterly. “Perhaps our family isn’t strong enough to guard this thing anymore. No one seems to have considered that.”
The thick dye of Alex’s blue surcoat absorbed the flickering brazier light as he shook his head firmly. “You are the proof that isn’t so, Griffyn.”
“Damning proof, methinks.”
“You rejected it. On the battlefield, when given a choice, you let it go.”
“I fail to see how that could keep it safe.”
Alex sighed. “I fail to see any other way to do so.”
Griffyn’s eyebrows arched up. “So that’s the test? To have it, you must reject it?”
“It depends on the choice each Guardian is given. That was yours.” He swallowed. “No one else could do it, reject it. I couldn’t.”
Griffyn leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He stared at the small Guinevere chest. “My father thought there was something about the treasure that could make him live forever.” He shifted his gaze to Alex. “Is there?”
“Maybe.”
Griffyn nodded. He moved his elbow to the table and dropped his forearm across the tabletop. His fingers just barely touched the edge of the small, ornately carved chest. He let out a long breath.
“So, what now?” Alex said. “I mean, about me.”
“What do you think?”
Alex stood still, his back rigid, his head down. Hoarsely, he said, “I think I made a mistake. I think I forgot you were my lord. My friend. I think I came too close. I know I am sorry.”
Griffyn nodded. He interlaced
his fingers and leaned forward, peering at the ground between his knees.
“I mean it, Pagan. It won’t happen again.”
He looked up. “I know. I won’t let it.”
Alex bowed his head. “My lord.”
He reached out again to trace the worn wooden carvings on the small Guinevere chest with his fingertips. Abruptly, he sat back.