games
Once we have walked a bit, Cardan lets go.
“So”
he says, his voice a lazy murmur
“Am I to assume this was your doing?”
I frown. “What?!”
“This little arrangement.”
His lips quirk.
“You wrote my name.”
Heat rises up my throat, mortification threading through my ribs.
“I did, actually. But this whole thing is not my doing, no reason to be flattered” I say, voice low.
His dark eyes glint with something sharp. He leans against the curve of a tree, tipping his head back slightly, his hair falling over one cheek. There’s a lazy elegance to the way he moves, the kind of confidence that comes naturally to someone who knows he is beautiful, who has never doubted that the world will shift to accommodate him.
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it right now” he says. “But I am curious.”
His smirk is a slow, curling thing, like a wisp of smoke that refuses to dissipate. He leans against a marble column, looking as though standing upright requires more effort than he is willing to give. Despite the carelessness in his posture, there is something calculated in it—the way the dim lantern light casts shifting gold over his sharp cheekbones, the way he looks at me, through me, as if he knows every secret. His smirk returns, slow and knowing.
“This is going to be infuriating to my family. And I do love a bit of chaos.”
“Infuriating to your family?”
I echo, arms crossing over my chest, willing myself to appear indifferent. Of course, a prince being involved with a low human sure isn't what the High Court could wish for. “Glad I could be of service, then.”
His dark eyes glint.
“Oh, you have no idea.”
His voice is rich with amusement, taunting, as if he finds me endlessly entertaining.
“They will lose their minds over this.” he laughs “And you, my little frail human, have really the guts”
“I am not your anything” I say, biting each word.
He exhales a soft, almost indulgent sigh, as if I am a child protesting something inevitable.
“Now, now. Don’t be ungrateful. This could be so much worse.”
I scoff. “For who?”
His smirk widens.
“For you, obviously. You are fortunate enough to be paired with me.”
I glare at him, feeling my blood heat.
“I do not consider myself fortunate.”
“Don’t you?”
His voice drops lower, just enough that it feels like a secret between us, like a promise of something wicked.
“Then why doing all that? You’re certain you don’t find this arrangement thrilling? Not even the smallest part of you enjoys it?”
I scoff, tilting my chin up. I'm trying my best to contain myself but now I understand well what Jude meant about his attitude.
"I didn't do it for the reasons you may think."
“Mmm.”
He tilts his head, studying me with the intensity of someone deciding which knife would be best to carve me open.
“It’s just—humans lie so easily, but sometimes your eyes give you away. I wonder- Lilia, if I'm not wrong"
he says, vaguely moving his hand disinterestedly in my direction
"wasn't this what you truly wanted? To be finally alone with me?”
To be alone with him? When he's the one who took my arm and brought me here? He surely is arrogant.
“Wrong. What I want is to be left alone.”
His smile is a blade now.
“Now that is a lie.”
Frustration coils in my stomach, tangled with something I refuse to name.
“You love to flatter yourself, don't you”
“Oh, I do.”
He leans in, close enough that I can see the faint flush at the tips of his ears, the remnants of the wine still lingering in his system.
“And I do think you wrote my name because you wanted to be matched with me. You may think of yourself above whatever pull you feel. But I can tell—”
his voice dips lower, dangerous, “that you are interested”
I refuse to react. “You could also tell that you are quite delusional.”
“Am I?”
He hums, watching me with something too sharp to be amusement.
“You wanted to prove a point, then? That this whole thing was ridiculous. That I would never choose you. And yet, here we are... So tell me, little liar, how does it feel to be wrong?”
I clench my teeth.
“Not as entertaining as you seem to think.”
“Oh, but I find it endlessly entertaining.”
He leans even closer, and my breath hitches before I can stop it.
“And the best part?” he murmurs, eyes gleaming.
“I actually didn’t write your name”
I glance up at him, startled. The way he said it, it seemed like it was meant to hurt me.
He leans in slightly, voice dropping just enough for only me to hear.
“I think my friends set me up. As a joke.”
Something cold curls inside my stomach. Of course. Of course this is funny to them.
I back slightly, attempting to step away, but Cardan just sighs and takes a step forward, as if this is all so exhausting for him.
I exhale sharply.
“I wasn’t trying to be matched” I admit.
His brows lift.
"And I definitely would never have thought of someone like you even if I wanted it."
I shake my head.
“I put the most absurd name I could think of. The one person I was sure would never choose mine.”
For a moment, he is silent. Then, to my horror, he laughs.
A bright, delighted sound, like I’ve just delivered the punchline to the best joke he’s heard all night.
“Isn't that’s hilarious?” he says.
“You mean to tell me this wasn’t some scheme? You didn’t think I was dazzling? Not even a little? I could think that with just one meeting I could charm anyone”
“Hilarious indeed” I say through my teeth.
“You don't find me charming?”
He asks, his voice dripping with amusement, lazy and rich like honey laced with poison.
I watch him in silence, my lips pressed into a thin line.
He is beautiful, there’s no denying that. His dark hair falls in perfect disarray, his eyes glint like polished obsidian, and his mouth curves into a smirk that could charm the stars out of the sky. But over time, I’ve learned to separate appearance from attitude. All magical creatures are beautiful, but this does not make them less cruel.
"I suppose humans have different ways of showing appreciation."
he continues, stepping closer. His movements are deliberate, like a predator circling its prey.
"After all, you are so... banal in everything. Even your appearance."
His words are sharp, meant to cut, but I refuse to flinch.
He reaches out, his fingers ghost over a stray lock of my hair before he takes it fully, twisting it between his fingers as though examining something strange and unimpressive. The gesture is slow, and infuriating. I notice some details in him: the golden sheen of his nails, the way the dim light catches against the iridescent quality of his skin, the scent he carries, heady and warm, with an undertone of something wilder, like crushed juniper berries. The dark sleeve of his feathered jacket barely brushes against my arm, light as a whisper, but it makes my pulse stutter.
"You are all so alike. So boring."
his voice like a blade drawn smoothly from its sheath.
"It must be dreadful, to be so easily lost in the crowd. Do you ever get confused, I wonder?"
I swallow the lump in my throat, forcing my voice to stay steady.
“I wouldn’t know. I am so banal indeed.”
I set my jaw, refusing to let him see how his words dig under my skin.
“There aren’t many humans I’ve met. I grew up here.”
There is something sharp in my voice, something brittle and unspoken. He is teasing, but I have no humor for it. I have always longed to know what lies beyond Elfhame... the places where I might not be an oddity, a pet, a stray thing allowed to linger. He could not possibly understand that yearning, nor the resentment curling like smoke in my chest.
Cardan doesn’t respond right away, he simply hums, still toying with my hair, his fingers brushing against my scalp in a way that sends an unwelcome shiver down my spine. He keeps tugging just enough to unravel the intricate style Talia had woven into it earlier. The strands slip free, tumbling around my face. A flicker of something crosses his expression—satisfaction, amusement, curiosity—but it is gone too quickly.
Annoyed, I jerk back, but he is faster. His fingers slide under my chin, tilting my face up until I have no choice but to meet his eyes.
The breath catches in my throat. His grip is not bruising, but it is firm, unyielding, almost possessive, and his eyes bore into mine with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. His gaze, heavy-lidded and intent, sweeps over my face as though he is studying a rare and peculiar thing.
Sweeping over my face as if he’s memorizing every detail— My eyes, the curve of my nose, the shape of my lips, the way my breath hitches when his thumb brushes against my jaw—each given its own careful scrutiny.
I do not understand what he wants. I do not understand this situation. He is close enough now that I can see the shift in his pupils, the slow, almost lazy way they dilate. I can see the faint flush of wine at the tips of his ears, the way his mouth curves.
A slow, cloying silence settles between us. The night stretches vast and empty around us, the sounds of the celebration beyond us faded into an indistinct hum.
He does nothing else. He only watches.
I don’t dare to speak. I’m acutely aware of how alone we are, how vulnerable I am.
He’s still tipsy, his movements slightly unsteady, and I can’t predict what he might do next. My mind races, trying to find a way out of this, but my body betrays me, staying rooted to the spot.
“You’re quiet” he murmurs “I thought humans were always so eager to fill the silence”
his voice low and velvety
“Or is it just me who makes you speechless?”
I narrow my eyes, forcing myself to meet his gaze.
“Maybe I just don’t see the point in wasting words on someone who only likes to hear himself talk.”
His smirk widens, and for a moment, I think I’ve scored a point. But then he leans in, his breath warm against my ear as he whispers
“You're right, I do enjoy my own voice”
His tone is low, intimate, and it sends a shiver down my spine despite my best efforts to stay composed.
“But I’d like to hear yours, too.”
I stiffen. This is just a game to him, isn’t it? I wonder if this is typical of him— toying with his preys until they’re too tangled in his web to escape. But I won’t play along.
“I don’t see why. I am sure you can hear as many female voices as you want all the time.”
I reply, my voice cool and measured. He pulls back slightly, his hand dropping from my face, but his smirk remains. It’s infuriating, how effortlessly he seems to control every moment of this interaction.
“So feisty”
he murmurs, his eyes glinting with amusement.
I feel a flicker of unease. I’m not his pet to play with, and I won’t let him treat me like one. But the way he’s looking at me—like he’s already won—makes my skin crawl. His gaze drifts lower, taking in the neckline of my dress, the curve of my waist, the way my hands tremble slightly at my sides. I hate how exposed I feel under his scrutiny, like he can see every crack in my armor.
“Enough now”
I say, my voice firmer this time. I take a step back, intending to leave, but he moves faster. His hand shoots out, catching my wrist before I can turn away. His grip isn’t painful, but it’s firm enough to stop me in my tracks.
“Where do you think you're going?”
he says, his tone light but with an edge of command.
“I want to talk to you.”
I yank my wrist free, glaring at him.
“I don’t intend to continue this power game.”
He tilts his head, his smile widening.
“But the game ends when I decide.”
His words hang in the air between us, heavy and unyielding. I feel a surge of frustration, but also something else— Fear? Anger? Or maybe it’s the way his voice wraps around me, pulling me in even as I try to push him away.
“You think you’re so clever”
I say, my voice trembling despite my efforts to keep it steady.
“But this isn’t a game to me. I’m not one of your courtiers, prince. I won’t dance to your tune.”
He steps closer again.
“Oh, but you already are”
he says, his voice a low purr.
“Every word, every glance, every step you take—it’s all part of the dance.”
I shake my head, backing away, but he follows, his presence overwhelming.
“Just because you're used to everyone doing whatever you like doesn't mean I'm going to do the same”
I say, though my voice lacks conviction.
“I see”
He reaches out, his fingers brushing against my cheek in a gesture that’s almost tender. I flinch, but he doesn’t pull away.
“I've never seen a human so close”
Cardan muses, his voice a lazy murmur, his dark eyes tracing the contours of my face.
"I have seen some, of course, but their expressions aren’t usually as vivid as yours."
I don’t understand where he’s going with this. He’s keeping me here, studying me, as if I’m some peculiar insect under glass. Amusement flickers in his gaze, sharp and gleaming, and I realize this is nothing more than a game to him. A playful experiment.
My pulse quickens, but I lift my chin.
"I’m sure if you wanted to have fun observing a human, you and your friends would have enough of them at your disposal without having to bother me."
His lips quirk in a smile, slow and knowing.
“Careful”
he says, tilting his head in mock contemplation.
“No one has ever perceived my attentions as offensive before.”
“There are plenty of the folk who would be thrilled to be in my place.”
I let my words land deliberately, each syllable edged with steel.
“So perhaps we should return to the party. There are many beautiful girls who could be waiting for you. That way, you can find one of them instead.”
Cardan exhales, something between a laugh and a sigh, as if my resistance is both mildly entertaining and deeply exhausting.
“I’m already having enough fun.”
His smile sharpens.
“And besides, aren't we a couple now?”
I stiffen.
"Only for the Spring Dance, apparenlty"
I correct him, forcing my voice to remain level.
"Which, incidentally, I have no intention of attending."
"Neither did I"
he admits, stepping closer, his movements as fluid as a predator’s.
"And yet, because of you, I am now practically forced."
“Because of me? You have to give credits to your friends, not me”
I cross my arms.
"And you’re a prince. I doubt anyone can force you to do anything."
For the first time, he does not answer immediately. His expression flickers, unreadable, and then he takes a slow step backward. He murmurs something, almost as if to himself.
Before I can press him further, a voice cuts through the night air.
"Lili!"
Jude.
She moves between us in a heartbeat, her posture taut and her hand in her side on her sword ready to act, eyes narrowed at Cardan as if expecting to find some fresh cruelty at play.
"I was looking for you" she says. "Let’s go"
Cardan sprawls onto a bench in a deliberate mess of limbs, watching us with open amusement.
"Ah, how typical of you, Jude"
he drawls, propping his chin on his fist
"You do have a habit of appearing in places you don’t belong."
Jude ignores him. Her attention is on me, scanning my face for any sign of distress. When she finds nothing, she exhales sharply.
"Come on"
I hesitate for half a second, then step away. But as I follow Jude back toward the party, something compels me to glance back.
Cardan is watching me. His gaze is steady. Then, as if to punctuate the moment, he lifts a single brow in mock farewell.
My stomach twists, though I’m not sure why.
I turn away and don’t look back again.