A prince of Faerie, nourished on cat milk and contempt, born into a family overburdened with heirs, with a nasty little prophecy hanging over his head—since the hour of Cardan’s birth, he has been alternately adored and despised. Perhaps it’s no surprise that he turned out the way he did; the only surprise is that he managed to become the High King of Elfhame anyway.
Some might think of him as a strong draught, burning the back of one’s throat, but invigorating all the same.
You might beg to differ.
So long as you’re begging, he doesn’t mind a bit.
