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 Fae.

Not a changeling. Not a mortal touched by Faerie. Fully, undeniably Fae.

What’s more unsettling is the way Cardan looks at them—not with mockery, not with disdain, but with something dangerously close to respect. The Fae meets his gaze easily, as if they are equals. As if they belong at his side.

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

Nicasia’s expression twists. “Who are they?”

Valerian sneers. “I don’t recognize them. And I know everyone who matters.”

Locke’s grin is all sharp curiosity. “How intriguing… A stranger in our court?”

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

The Fae remains composed under their scrutiny, their expression unreadable.

Jude crosses her arms. “Who are they?”

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

Jude doesn’t miss the challenge in his voice—or the flicker of amusement in the Fae’s eyes.