“I knewnothing.”
“So you say,” Qylar snapped. “If you did, I wish you only what you deserve.”
Libault glared at him.
“You have a nice evening,uncle.”
Before Qylar could get away, Lord Libault reached out with one of his tentacles and snatched his arm. It coiled tightly around Qylar’s wrist. “I’ve not discussed the business of your papa yet.”
“Let him rot,” Qylar said, transforming his arm into tentacles, too, and ripping it away.
“Your papa has suffered for nearly twelve years. Is that not enough?”
“According to the Council’s ruling, no.”
Lord Libault ignored his comment. “I’ve been told a single year there feels like a lifetime, and I can believe it. After years of pleading, I was finally allowed an hour of visitation to check on Izzy. Your papa is as worn away as the rock he beats against, his body and soul utterly broken.”
“He should’ve thought about the consequences of his actions beforehand,” Qylar muttered, fighting against the sadness filling him. Old memories of a loving papa made it hard to completely turn off the love he had in his heart.
“I’ve secured a deal. Hellian Prime has offered sanctuary for your papa—if the Council will reconsider and free him.”
Qylar shook his head.
“I know, I know. The planet has little water, and it’s on the edges of the galaxy, but exile therehasto be better than the hell of the mines. We only need the Council to be swayed that your papa was not as guilty as your father and has paid for his sins these last twelve years.”
“We?”Qylar asked.
“I need your help.”
“And just what is it you think I can do?”
Lord Libault stood a bit taller. “Your friend’s family has ties to those on the Council.”
Qylar bit his tongue.
“The Duke still holds considerable power. I hear he often has members of the Council as guests at his table. Some of them are even here tonight, making me think that’s true.”
“Then why are you talking to me? Go plants your seeds there.”
Lord Libault smiled. “It’s harder to discuss such matters in large gatherings like this with so many eyes watching.” He shrugged his shoulders, transforming his tentacles back into an arm. “A small dinner party? You’d have a better chance pulling them aside and speaking on your papa’s behalf—without being interrupted.”
“I’m not welcomed at the table when there are guests, especially those of great influence. I can’t pass along any messages for you.”
“Persuade Cryss to help. You say he’s your best friend. I’m sure if you tell him you wish to save your papa from that hell, he’ll agree. You might even convince him to speak on your papa’s behalf, too—which might be even better than you.”
“I won’t use Cryssorhis family to save someone I don’t think is worthy of saving.”
“Izzy birthed you from his own body,” Lord Libault said. “You owe him your life.”
“The only people I oweanythingto reside in this house.”
Lord Libault smiled contemptuously. “Maybe everyone is right about you after all. Your cruelty is immense.” He stormed off, never looking back at Qylar.
Qylar leaned against the column he stood beside, his body flagging after the confrontation. He separated his legs into tentacles to better support himself.
“I’m proud of you.”
Qylar glanced to the side and found Ommit, the duke’s steward, at his side. He turned away, fighting his warring emotions. “I’m glad one of us is.”
