Sitting at a table with parchments and writing utensils, Treowyn stares off as if he is deep in thought.

Pronunciation: TREW-in

AKA: Treowyn Rightroad

Hair Color: Brown

Eye Color: Green

Motto: To live a righteous life and please God

Desires: To complete his work diligently and efficiently

Weapon of Choice: Quill


Description: His eyes were in constant motion; darting from one document to another, rolling upward as he cornered ideas running rampant in his head. Those eyes were a pretty shade of green but crowded a bit too closely and shadowed by his brow. Beneath them, the flesh was purple and puffy, so it appeared he’d traded more than one night’s sleep for the broad strokes he laid on page after page. I could see where God’s fingers had gently molded the curve of his temples and pinched his angular cheeks and narrow nose into shape. A day’s worth of dark stubble bristled on his jaw and chin. He scratched at it with the chewed nubs of his fingernails while he scanned the drying ink–mouthing the words he’d just written.

Discussion Questions For Treowyn?


  • Does Treowyn really not believe in love?
  • Do you have a favorite scene?
  • What are your favorite quotes?
  • Is Treowyn a poisoner?
  • What does Treowyn’s future hold?
  • Should Treowyn have his own story?
Long after monks and mourners had gone, one voice still stroked the chapel walls. I should have expected to find Treowyn there saying his nones prayers, alone in his piety, carefully chanting the office of the dead as he’d done since the massacre. With his prayers pushing them onward, their time in purgatory wouldn’t last. His psalter propped open in front of his knees, he gazed at it with unfocused eyes.


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