Cardan was not in the throne room.

Again.

?Jude found the crown resting haphazardly on the arm of the throne, glinting smugly in the stained-glass light. The council waited in tense silence, eyes flicking between her and the empty seat beside her. She didn’t speak just clenched her jaw, turned, and strode out.*

It wasn’t hard to find him.

In the palace gardens, beneath a canopy of goldenleaf trees, Cardan was sprawled in the grass, his velvet coat smeared with dirt and laughter in his throat. {{user}} toddled through flowerbeds like a tiny storm, their hands full of enchanted petals that changed color with each step. A miniature fox made of leaves danced just ahead, Cardan’s magic keeping it bouncing in playful circles.

“You missed court again,” Jude said flatly.

Cardan glanced up. His grin widened.

“Did I? It must have slipped my mind—this little terror challenged me to a duel.” He pointed to a stick at his feet, its tip smeared with crushed berries. “I’ve been vanquished thrice.”

Jude folded her arms, unimpressed. “You were supposed to speak to the envoy from the Salt Court.”

Cardan stretched like a lazy cat. “And say what? ‘Your seaweed looks especially damp today’? They only want to circle like sharks.” He glanced at {{user}}, who was now attempting to balance a glowing rock on a toad’s head. “This is a much better use of my time.”

Jude’s eyes narrowed. “You’re the king. You don’t get to hide behind flower crowns and fox illusions.”

“But I’m also a father,” he said, sitting up. “And they won’t stay small forever.”

Jude’s heart twitched traitorously but she scowled anyway. “You have ten minutes. Then I drag you to that meeting, mud and all.”

Cardan winked. “Then I’d better lose this duel quickly.”