“Oh, I do,” Lord Libault said. “I was often a guest. I don’t know another who threw grander parties—or was such a lovely host.”
“How Papa loved to entertain. He always seemed his happiest when preparing for a celebration.” He eyed Lord Libault. “Abundant food. Stunning decorations. Unworldly entertainment. People danced all night, until the sun rose, and then sometimes continued on into the daylight because no one wished to leave.”
“Those were the days.” Libault smiled, his gaze going hazy. “As a child, you were only privy to a quarter of the debauchery that went on those nights. If only you’d been older before the end.”
Qylar was glad he hadn’t been.
“Vylan and I would sneak into the dining room and steal small sweets and fruit from the buffets before the parties. We would sit at the head of the stairs and watch as the guests arrived in all their finery. At their last ball, my parents allowed me to attend for the first couple of hours. Of course, unbeknownst to me, it was a first meeting of the prince they’d arranged to be my mate.” Qylar smiled sardonically. “I danced with Vy almost the entire time, thinking it was the most magical night of my life.”
A sharp pain lanced Qylar’s chest at the memory of Vylan, his brother closest to him in age.
Lord Libault grinned. “It likely was.”
“Mm-hhmm,” Qylar said. He dropped his smile and all pretense. “Until I learned we’d danced on the backs of those my family enslaved, using the funds from their sale to throw those parties and give us the lifestyle we led.”
“Nephew…”
“Don’t,”Qylar snapped. “You were only too happy to distance yourself from me after the truth came out. You don’t get to call me nephew now.”
“I was trying to distance myselffrom your father.You were caught in the crossfire, boy.”
“Even knowing I was an innocent with no one to protect me?” Qylar narrowed his eyes. While he’d been too young to know what his parents had been doing, Libault wasn’t. “Tell me. Didyouknow?”
Lord Libault’s face fell.“I did not.”
Qylar sensed the lie. “Odd. As close as you and Papa were, I’d have thought you did.”
“I’d heard rumors. Rumors he refuted time and time again.”
“Either you’re a fool or a liar.”
Lord Libault glowered at him.“My brotherdid not know as much as your father claimed in the trials. Vali attempted to put his misdeeds on Izzy’s shoulders and make him carry the weight of those crimes when he was mostly innocent.”
“How is onemostlyinnocent in a situation like that?”
Lord Libault did not answer.
“He knew—and turned a blind eye to others’ suffering. He chose his own comfort and life of luxury over doing what was right.”
“And had you been older and brought into the fold like your siblings, what choice would you have made, Qylar?” Lord Libault took a menacing step closer. “Would you have followed in your brothers and sisters’ path and upheld the family business, too?”
Qylar had asked himself that question time and time again—and he hoped he’d have made the right choice, no matter how difficult. “I wouldn’t have participated.”
“Easily said from your position of relative comfort now. Would you have turned in your entire family and potentially resigned yourself to poverty to do the right thing? I doubt I would’ve had the strength or fortitude to do that.”
Qylar frowned. “I’m cut from a different cloth.”
“Oh, no, my love. You are no different. Even now, you sit here in this castle, living a life of luxury just as you did before you learned what they did.”
Qylar fought against the twisting of his gut.
“You might call yourself a servant, but we both know you’re not. I wonder what all those people and families yours destroyed thinks of your lofty perch now.”
“My lofty perch?” Qylar scoffed. “I’m a pariah wherever I go. Everyone assumes I am spoiled fruit, fallen from a vile, rotted tree—even the very man you claim offers me his charity.” Qylar paused a moment, searching Libault’s face. “I assure you that mylife isnotone of ease. I may live in a castle, but I sleep in the bowels of it. My clothing? Castoffs from the Duke’s family. I may occasionally eat at their table or attend their parties, but only because Cryss wishes me there and the Duke reluctantly agrees. On the nights I’m barred from appearing—which is more often than not—I eat with the other servants. Servants who dislike me because of the latitude I’m given in this house.” Qylar chuckled to himself, but only to prevent the tears prickling at the backs of his eyes from forming. “I’m loathed by all. Banished from the aristocracy, yet too highborn to be accepted by the working classes. Both sides are watching and waiting for me to cross a line so they can gleefully say they were right about me—that I am as abhorrent as my family. I must be careful in everything I do and everything I say. What did I ever do to earn that? I was born to the wrong family. A boy of ten who had no idea what his parents did to fill their coffers. Yet I’m held responsible for their misdeeds at every turn. Unlike you, I couldn’t distance myself and walk away unscathed.”
Lord Libault narrowed his eyes.
“Unscathed, yet something tells me you shouldn’t have been. What might people think if it came out you knew all along?”
