Pointing at Mikhal, Jorgand continued. “He was the one who wanted to reach out.”
Half-turning to his friend, Biljax shook his head and ran his hand through now unbound hair. “Let me guess, The Bloodless Blade of Grace said that we needed him. That his heart was pure, right?” Now fully facing Mikhal, Biljax’s elbows rested on his knees. The intensity of his look could have scared a hoard of angry demons, but not Mikhal.
“And how do you know you didn’t just rat us out? How do you know that he didn’t turn us into Rostislav? He’s one of the Champions of the Arena. What makes you think he would turn to us?”
Without batting an eye, Mikhal continued to stare into the stars, his eyes reflecting the scene before him. He smiled. “He is the one who will bring those we need. He is like you, Biljax.
