Jude doesn’t expect to find Cardan alone in the garden. He is never alone. Yet as she steps through the archway, there he is—leaning lazily against a tree, golden eyes glinting with amusement.

And beside him stands a child.

They linger close to him, half-hidden behind the sweep of his cloak, small hands curled into the fabric. Their head tilts up toward him as if waiting for him to speak first, and when he does, their lips twitch in the smallest hint of a smile.

Jude frowns. She has never seen Cardan tolerate meekness, let alone welcome it.

Before she can question it, footsteps sound behind her.

Nicasia, Valerian, and Locke arrive in a flurry of sharp laughter.

Nicasia’s gaze flicks to the child, her expression twisting. “What is that?”

Valerian sneers. “A pet, Cardan? How unlike you.”

Locke hums, watching with interest. “Or a secret? Now that would be interesting.”

At the sound of their voices, the child shrinks, fingers tightening around Cardan’s sleeve. They duck their head, shoulders curling inward, as if they could will themselves invisible.

Cardan sighs, bored already. “Must you all be so exhausting?”

Jude watches the way the child clings to him, the way they avoid the others’ gazes.

She softens her tone. “Who are they?”

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

The child presses closer to his side, barely glancing at Jude before murmuring, “I don’t like questions.”

Cardan chuckles, the sound surprisingly gentle. “Then don’t answer.”

The child nods, just once, as if reassured.

And for the first time, Jude wonders if Cardan is protecting them—or if they are protecting him.