"He is not my kin yet," the Habadian suddenly spoke , his voice still holding onto denial. "If you seek favors for the boy's life, you should petition his father, not me. He is betrothed to my daughter, aye, but the marriage is a distant thing unless he favors wedding an eight-year-old girl. He means nothing to me at the current moment."
Nibadur gestured sharply toward the east, toward the allies he was deserting "Go. Send your envoys there to negotiate the pup's release. I am under no duty to see to it myself, nor will I be moved by the plight of a boy who has yet to put a ring on a Habadian finger."
Alpheo watched the Habadian Prince with the detached, weary amusement of a man watching a mediocre actor struggle through a tragic play.
Nibadur must have felt the weight of that silence, for he became more animated, his gestures wider and his speech faster, his breath blooming in frantic white clouds as he wove his lies
