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George wasn’t sure he believed in evil. He knew his knight did, with all her heart. Alanna believed that people could be wrong, rotten to the core – that people could be twisted by power and want, that corpses could return, that all goodness and chivalry could be discarded.
He supposed he didn’t blame her, after Roger.
But George knew that the villain in any story wasn’t always black or white. He knew many a tale where the Rogue King killed a man in cold blood to claim the throne, kept a box of ears to keep his people in line, was the final authority on the crimes that were allowed (and his authority didn’t stop at thieving, didn’t shy away from assassinations and murder when he gave that nod from his throne).
He knew these tales were true.
It was easy to look at someone and see evil when you were the hero. When you walked that twisty shade of grey... it was more complicated than that.