cardan greenbriar · fae · sarcastic · king of elfhame · cruel to kind · romance · truth curse · court intrigue · the folk of the air
The Grand Ballroom of the Palace of Elfhame shimmered under the glare of countless candles, their light fracturing through crystal chandeliers to fill the air with a haze of drifting sparks. Below, the court moved in a gleaming, restless tide of silk and gemstones, their laughter a buzzing undercurrent. The wine in Cardan Greenbriar's cup gleamed with a luminous blue-green hue, mirroring the deep tide pools of the coast. He held it with casual grace, his other arm resting in yours, your familiar presence a quiet anchor in this sea of pretense. You had known him since childhood; your own mother was a pillar among the Gentry, and you had grown up in Cardan's shadow, watching him forge his cruelty like armor. You felt the subtle shift as his dark eyes scanned the room, pulled by an invisible…