chats
As I step into the sitting room, I try to will away the heat crawling up my neck, the lingering weight of Cardan’s gaze pressing against my skin like a phantom touch.
I refuse to acknowledge him as I move toward the nearest empty seat.
But before I can sit, a hand—his hand—brushes against the small of my back.
A fleeting touch. Barely there. But enough.
My breath catches for half a second. And that’s all the victory he needs.
I spin to face him, pulse spiking. His smirk is already in place, lazy and knowing.
“You seem tense”
he murmurs, his voice dipping into something silkier, heavier.
Then, with mock concern:
“Feeling sick, perhaps? Do you need a healer? Or you would prefer me to check on you?”
Cardan gestures for me to sit, his movements exaggeratedly formal, as if he’s mocking the entire situation. I ignore him and take a seat on the sofa, smoothing my dress over my knees. He sits beside me, closer than necessary, his arm brushing against mine. I shift away, but he doesn’t seem to notice—or maybe he just doesn’t care.
I school my features into indifference, though my fingers twitch at my sides.
“I wouldn’t dare waste your precious time, Your Highness.”
His eyes glitter, delighted.
“Nonsense. If you were truly on death’s door, there is a possibility that I might even hold your hand.”
He leans in
“Or would that only worsen your condition?”
I refuse to react, even as my skin prickles with the warmth of his closeness.
Across the room, Rhyia glances at us, but wisely says nothing. Joaalk and Kiki continue their conversation, oblivious.
I exhale slowly, steadying myself.
“If this is your version of flirting, then I pity anyone who has ever been unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end.”
He lets out a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over his heart as though I’ve struck him.
“You're harsh”
he says, his voice dripping with mock hurt. Then, with a sly tilt of his head, he adds
“But tell me, do you think this is flirting?”
His dark eyes lock onto mine, and for a moment, the room feels too small, too warm.
“Or do you wish it were?”
The way he looks at me throws me off balance. His gaze is sharp, calculating, and entirely too knowing. Oh, he’s good at this game. And he knows it. He knows the effect he has on people, the way his words and his presence can unravel even the most composed facade.
I look down for a moment, my fingers tightening around the edge of my seat as I try to steady myself. We’re in front of other people, and I can’t give too much away. I won’t give him the satisfaction of making me react the way he wants.
“You enjoy making it seem like I’m the one making things up, don’t you?”
I reply, my voice cool but with an edge that betrays my irritation.
His smirk deepens. “Ah, so you do think I’m flirting.”
“You want to make me look like the one who flirts with you?”
My voice edged with dry amusement. Of course he would think that, 'everyone falls for Cardan'.
There’s a flicker of something triumphant in his expression, like he’s been waiting for me to say exactly that.
“Well”
he muses, tilting his head,
“if this was your way of flirting with me, I have to say: it’s rather disappointing.”
I raise an eyebrow, leveling him with a look. Winning a conversation with him is nearly impossible.
“Oh, I was just saying.”
His tone is light, careless, but there’s something deliberate in it. Then, with feigned indifference, he adds,
“For all I know, you could be simply used to that kind of thing.”
Ah. So now he’s implying that he’s experienced and I’m not. Very funny
I huff out a quiet, annoyed laugh and turn away, pretending to be far more interested in Kiki and Rhyia’s ongoing conversation.
“Just for the record”
Cardan murmurs, voice low as he leans in,
“if I were to flirt with you”
he continues, his words slow and deliberate against my ear.
“I promise… you’d notice.”
His breath is warm against my neck, close enough that I catch the scent of him. His scent curling around me, intoxicating in a way I refuse to acknowledge. My breath hitches, and for a moment, I’m frozen. My fingers tighten against my skirts.
I turn toward him sharply, only to realize how close we are—closer than I intended. His eyes flicker with something unreadable, something teasing and sharp all at once.
And then, just as easily, I turn away again.
He leans back, settling into his seat as if nothing happened.
Rhyia glances between us, her expression thoughtful. Then she clears her throat, drawing our attention.
“So, Lilia”
she says, her voice warm but with an edge of curiosity.
“How are you finding life in Elfhame?”
I force a smile, trying to come up with a diplomatic answer.
“It's... quite good” I say carefully.
She nods, her gaze sharp but not unkind.
“It can be overwhelming at first, but I’m sure you’ll find your place here.”
My place. The words linger in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. I glance at Joaalk, but his expression is unreadable, his face a mask of polite neutrality.
Before I can respond, Kiki interrupts, her voice bright but with an undercurrent of warning.
“Shall we have some tea? I’ve asked the maids to bring in a fresh pot. It’s a human drink, very good!”
Rhyia nods, her smile gracious. “It sounds delightful.”
As the maids bring in the tea tray, I take the opportunity to put some distance between myself and Cardan. He doesn’t seem to mind, his attention shifting to the conversation as if he’s perfectly at ease.
This is going to be a long evening.
The tea arrives, and from across the room, Rhyia claps her hands quietly but enthusiastically.
“Good! Lilia, I imagine you’ve never had the chance to experience the traditions of Elfhame, so I took the opportunity to give you the full courting experience. I’ve organized some activities to help you immerse yourself in our culture. And of course, my brother can guide you through them.”
My smile is flawless, studied. And yet, inside me, something coils tight.
Ah. So that’s what this is.
A performance. A carefully crafted display. The golden prince lowering himself to entertain the poor human, showing her the ways of Elfhame as if it were some grand act of generosity. A charity case. A chance to polish his and his family’s reputation. And he had the guts to tell me that this was going to make his family mad.
I am quite annoyed, but I can’t let it show.
Rhyia is seated gracefully across from us, her hands folded neatly in her lap.
“I thought it might be nice to prepare some traditional activities for you two”
her tone is warm but with an edge of formality.
“Since this is your first day of courting, I wanted to ensure it was memorable for you.”
“Oh, I’m sure you do”
my voice is sweet but laced with sarcasm. Joaalk senses this and gives me a look, his eyes narrowing slightly in warning.
I force myself to smile politely, though it feels brittle.
“That’s very thoughtful”
I say, my voice carefully neutral now.
Rhyia’s smile widens, and she leans forward slightly, her green eyes bright with enthusiasm.
“I thought you could start with a walk through the Moonlit Gardens. It’s a tradition for courting couples to exchange tokens under the full moon. Then, perhaps, during the game of riddles—it’s a test of wit, you see, and—”
“Sister”
Cardan interrupts, his voice smooth but firm. He leans back in his seat, one arm draped casually over the back of the sofa, his fingers brushing dangerously close to my shoulder.
“She grew up here. I imagine she knows the traditions.”
The room goes quiet. Rhyia blinks, her expression faltering for a moment before she recovers.
“Oh” she says, her voice softer now.
“Of course. I didn’t mean to imply…”
“It’s fine”
I say quickly, though my chest feels tight. I’m not sure what surprises me more: Rhyia’s assumption or the fact that Cardan corrected her.
“Forgive me, Lilia” Rhyia says, her smile apologetic.
“I only wanted to make sure you felt included.”
“I appreciate the thought”
I say, though the words taste bitter on my tongue. After all, I can’t even blame her. It’s rare that a human isn’t brought here by force but is instead benevolently raised and recognized in a proper family. It's still nice if her thought was done with good intentions.
I do my best to hold a gasp as we step into the Moonlit Gardens.
They are as breathtaking as they are unsettling. The air is thick with night-blooming flowers that linger, their petals glowing faintly in the silvery light of the full moon, the scent sweet yet sharp, a contrast I can’t quite place. The trees are taller than any I’ve seen before, their twisting branches tangled with dark green and silver vines that glow faintly under the pale light. A path of iridescent stones winds through the garden, leading deeper into the heart of Elfhame’s enchanted flora. The paths are lined with shimmering stones that catch the moonlight, casting an ethereal glow over everything. It’s a place of beauty and mystery. I’ve heard of these gardens before—of their beauty, of how they’re always bustling with faeries, their laughter and music filling the air. But tonight, they’re eerily silent, as if the entire space has been reserved just for us. I can’t help but wonder how much influence Rhyia or Cardan, being part of the royal family, have to wield to make that happen.
Cardan walks beside me, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his jacket. He’s quiet, which is unusual for him, and it sets me on edge. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, but his expression is unreadable, his gaze fixed on the path ahead.
“What do you think of the gardens?”
he says finally, breaking the silence.
I shrug, my tone carefully neutral.
“They’re... nice.” I can't actually find the words.
He glances at me, his lips curving into a smirk.
“Nice.” he repeats, “Not enough to impress you?”
“I didn’t say that” I reply, my voice sharp.
Cardan makes a low noise in his throat, a sound that could be amusement or simple assessment.
“Still,” he says with languid indolence,
“I get the feeling that you like people to think you’re not easily impressed.”
His voice slides through the air like honey dripping onto a sharp blade.
“It depends” I keep my tone neutral.
“It’s not the first time I’ve seen something this extraordinary.” I lie.
“Ah” He pauses for a moment, and when he does, I instinctively slow down.
“And me? Do I fall into the category of extraordinary things?”
I turn to look at him, but he’s already looking down at me, the same treacherous, unreadable gaze he knows how to use as a weapon.
I refuse to be the first to look away.
“You’re predictable”
I finally reply, keeping my expression impeccable.
A hint of a curious smile crosses his face.
“Predictable?”
“In a way” I say, shrugging with studied ease.
“You like to test to see if you can make others falter.”
He cocks his head slightly.
“And can I?”
His gaze is too intense, too close to something I don’t want to focus on. I turn back to the path and continue walking.
“If you’re not impressed, are you at least amused?”
I stop again, turning to face him.
“Is that your goal? To amuse me?”
“I could if you let go a little.”
His smile is a knife hidden under velvet.
“After all, wouldn’t it be terrible if the spring ball came and you didn’t have a single pleasant memory to associate with this courting?”
A shiver runs down my spine, not from fear, but from the absolute certainty that every word that comes out of his mouth is spoken with a very specific intention.
I look at him, and he looks at me as if he’s waiting for something. As if he wants to see me give in, even for a second.
“You want me to let go? Sure.”
My voice is low, firm.
“You and I have very different notions of amusement I'm sure. I don’t need you to have fun.”
Cardan takes a step forward. Just one.
And yet it seems to close the whole space between us.
“Maybe not” he says with a half smile.
“But then why writing my name? Have you ever wondered how it came to your mind? There were surely other options, as you said”
His voice is softer now, more insinuating. It’s a question that forces me to think, to look at something I’ve tried to ignore from a different perspective. Does he want to know why I wrote him of all names? I’ve already explained—or at least, I’ve tried to.
But the truth is, I don’t even know the reason myself.
I stiffen. “No."
“Weird.”
Cardan tilts his head slightly, and the silver reflection of the leaves intertwines with his dark eyes.
“Because I wondered.”
My heart beating a little too fast in the eerie silence of the gardens. I know I should ignore him, I should turn and walk away, but it’s hard to look away from him when he’s so… careful. Like he’s waiting for a crack, a reaction he can use against me.
I won’t give it to him.
I force myself to smile with studied nonchalance.
“Why you, prince?”
I repeat his question with a hint of mockery.
“I already told you. Don’t tell me you really think I had my eyes on you for all this time”
He makes a low, almost amused sound.
“Oh. We both know that’s not the answer. Don’t deflect my question.”
He stares at me in a way that leaves me feeling exposed, as if he’s already guessed something before I can even name it.
“What would that be?”
My voice is steady, but I can feel the weight of the air between us.
Cardan leans closer, so close that the hem of his jacket brushes my sleeve. His presence is almost suffocating, a dangerous heat that threatens to envelop me entirely. His face is coming closer and closer.
Is he going to...?
I move quickly and take a firm step, leaving him behind, but I know it won’t last. Cardan is like a shadow that can’t be shaken off. What just almost happened?
And sure enough, there he is, a few steps away from me, the soft sound of his boots blending with the rustling of leaves in the night breeze.
“What is it, Lilia? Are you afraid of being too close to me?”
I stop dead in my tracks for the umpteenth time. A mistake.
Because a moment later I feel him, the warmth of his presence behind me. Not close enough to touch me, but close enough for every cell in my body to be hyper-aware of him.
I force myself to turn slowly, not showing the slightest bit of shock.
“Afraid? Of you?”
My voice is measured, but there’s something about the way he looks at me—so confident, so amused by this little war between us—that makes me feel like I’m walking a tightrope over a precipice. I kinda am afraid of him, but even so I can't let him see my weakness.
Cardan tilts his head, a dark strand brushing his cheek.
“No, not me.” He pauses deliberately, as if savoring the moment.
“Of something more interesting”
I stare at him. “Of what?”
He smiles. Slow. Deadly.
“Of temptation”
He's toying with me. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
My breathing is steady, my face impassive, but I can feel my heart beating a little too hard in my chest. I can’t let him win. I can’t stand him.
“Sorry to disappoint but I could never feel that for you” I say calmly.
He chuckles, a low, sharp sound.
“I don’t think so.”
And this time, he comes closer, slowly, as if to give me plenty of time to stop him. But I don’t.
Because I know he’ll win anyway.
“It would be a shame if you spent all this time trying to avoid me only to realize too late that you actually find me… fascinating.”
His tone is low, laced with a venomous intimacy. The way he says the last word, as if amused by the very idea—it sends a jolt of annoyance and something else I don’t want to analyze too deeply.
“This is another flaw of yours, your highness.”
I raise an eyebrow, holding back my reaction.
“You’re too used to thinking everyone is attracted to you.”
He smiles, a slow, deadly movement of his lips.
"You're not?”
His words hit me exactly where I wanted to avoid them. I may be a strong-willed person and not easily influenced but I am certainly not blind... very few are as beautiful as him.
All faeries are beautiful but Cardan has something that makes him... unique. And stands out among all the others even if he doesn't try.
Even though I had never interacted with him before the party, I always noticed him, how could I not. Even before I knew he knew Talia. Even before Jude and Taryn told me stories about him. From afar, I sometimes admired him quietly.
“You overestimate yourself” I say coldly.
“Oh no,”
His tone is almost sweet, and that is what makes him even more dangerous.
“It's you that underestimate me. Why do you keep acting like I am a problem to be avoided, when in reality…”
He pauses briefly, then tilts his head in mock reflection.
My stomach tightens.
I hate him for how he can make me feel trapped in a conversation that feels like a dance. He is unbearable for the way his every word seems to get under my skin.
“Whatever makes you sleep well”
I hiss, almost running into his face, then finally turning to continue walking.
But I know he is smiling behind me. I feel it.
And that irritates me more than anything else.
“You still came here with me” he says from behind me
“Forced” I specify.
His expression becomes almost thoughtful as he quickens his pace, walking back to my side