Lancelot's eyes narrowed as he held Rachel firmly in his grasp, her feet barely brushing the ground. The words she had just spoken echoed in his head, almost mocking in their simplicity. He is a good person.
"There are no good people in the world, girl," he said at last, his voice low and edged with certainty born from a lifetime of bloodshed.
Rachel stilled at his words. Her chest rose and fell quickly, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. "Maybe not," she admitted, her voice steadier than she felt. "But compared to you, Leon is a far better man."
Lancelot tilted his head, studying her with an unsettling calm. He wasn't angered by her defiance; if anything, there was a glint of curiosity in his eyes, as though he was silently daring her to continue.
