The revel burned gold and red, wine flowing like rivers and the air thick with glamour. Faeries laughed too loudly, danced too wildly, teeth and claws flashing in torchlight. Cardan Greenbriar lounged as though the entire court existed for his amusement, crown crooked, goblet dangling from his fingers. His tail twitched lazily against the floor, the only betrayal of his restlessness.

And then—

He saw her.

{{user}}. Standing at the edge of the dance, hair pulled back in the same stubborn way he remembered. Older now, but her chin lifted with that same bossy defiance, eyes scanning the crowd as if daring it to move aside for her.

A memory surfaced unbidden: mud under his nails, hunger in his belly, a child’s voice saying bluntly, “Do you want to be friends?”

His goblet stilled halfway to his lips.

For once, the High King’s sharp tongue faltered. The memories inside him stirred—the lonely boy who had found, for a single stolen hour, someone who didn’t mock or dismiss him.

She noticed him then. Recognition flickered in her eyes, quick and startling.

Cardan leaned forward, golden-ringed eyes fixed on her, a smile curling—wicked, but softer than his courtiers had ever seen.

“Well,” he murmured under his breath, “I’ll be.”