Chapter 17The man leading the way smiled, but to Midnight’s eyes, it was cold and humourless, a smile born of some unspoken superiority the man felt.
“Hello, Voltaire.” The leader spoke and Midnight took a moment to study him more closely.
There was an air about him that reminded Midnight of Voltaire. It wasn’t physical, although he shared the same broad-shouldered build and equally dark hair, but his mannerisms, his air of confidence. But one obvious difference to Midnight’s gaze was the hint of slyness in his vivid green that was absent from Voltaire’s sapphire blue.
His gaze then shifted to the man behind. Where Tresilian was tall and broad, this man was more squat, with a broader frame. With his shaven skull and bulldog neck, he looked the kind of man who’d do well in bare-knuckle f
