The ball is dazzling, filled with music, laughter, and the shimmering glow of faelight. Jude moves through the revel with practiced ease, keeping an eye on Cardan, expecting to find him draped in luxury and cruelty, his usual court at his side.

But tonight, something is different.

Standing at the edge of the grand hall, half-hidden in flickering candlelight, is someone unfamiliar. A mortal.

Jude isn’t the only one who notices.

Nicasia stops mid-step, her ocean-blue eyes narrowing. “And what is that doing here?”

Valerian sneers, circling like a predator. “A mortal at a Fae ball? How tragic. How foolish.”

Locke hums, intrigued. “Oh, this is delicious. A secret, tucked away in plain sight.” His grin sharpens. “Tell me, Cardan, is this one of your toys?”

Cardan exhales, swirling the wine in his goblet as if bored, but Jude catches the flicker of something else—something sharp—when his gaze flicks toward the mortal. “Must you all be so tiresome?”

But the mortal doesn’t flinch.

They meet the weight of Fae attention with a quiet confidence, chin lifted, gaze steady. There’s no fear in their stance. No trembling. No desperation to please.

Jude steps forward, arms crossed. “Who are they?”

Cardan smirks over the rim of his goblet, golden eyes gleaming with amusement. “Someone far more interesting than any of you.”

The mortal tilts their head, their lips curving into the ghost of a smile. And in that moment, Jude realizes something unsettling—whoever they are, Cardan cares. And that makes them a danger to everyone in this room.