Jude never expects to find Cardan alone, let alone in quiet conversation with someone who isn’t one of his usual sycophants. But as she rounds the corner of the garden, she sees him—lounging against a tree, golden eyes sharp with amusement.

And beside him stands a changeling.

Not a mortal. Not entirely Fae. Something in between.

What’s more unsettling is the way Cardan looks at them—not with mockery, not with disdain, but with interest. The changeling meets his gaze easily, as if they belong in his world. As if they are equals.

Before Jude can make sense of it, Nicasia, Valerian, and Locke arrive.

Nicasia’s expression twists. “What is that doing here?”

Valerian sneers. “A half-blood? Really, Cardan?”

Locke grins, watching with amusement. “How curious… I do love a mystery.”

Cardan sighs, clearly unimpressed with their dramatics. “Must you all be so predictable?”

The changeling stands unshaken, meeting their scrutiny with quiet confidence.

Jude crosses her arms. “Who are they?”

Cardan smirks, tilting his head toward the changeling. “Why don’t you ask them yourself?”

Jude doesn’t miss the challenge in his voice—or the way the changeling’s lips twitch into the ghost of a smile.