#cardan greenbriar pov

[bellarkeex]

Treacherous [Cardan POV]

My interpretation of Cardan's POV from the night he wrote the Alice in Wonderland note. Jude. Jude. Jude.

☾ warnings: confused yearning cardan, not sure there is any?, mention of drink & powders, not explict smutty dream

☾ read on ao3: here.

☾ wc: 1036

“Oh, Cardan.” Her sighs echo into the shadowed trees around us.

I grip at every piece of skin I can reach. Though she is below me, I am the one drowning in her presence. Blissfully unaware to any semblance of touch except nails digging into my back, the hot shallow breaths on my neck, and her warmth I am repeatedly sinking into. Little bruises had begun to show on her collar bone and if one were to look carefully, more would be found on her inner thighs.

My stomach twisting at every little sound which escapes her mouth, urging myself on in hope to be blessed with more.

My name on her lips, I know this would be my undoing. What would finally drive me into madness. The becoming of a mere beggar, my only wish to hear her say my name. No matter whether whispered and breathless. Hell, in this nightmare, I’d settle for it being screamed in rage.

⋆⁺⋆⋆⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺

It was not always like this.

Many times, she had surrendered to him, the only words the mortal girl dare to utter being pleas. Begging for him to do many improper things to her. Acts which would seem unbefitting to any other respected prince. Yet, he was not that kind of prince, and such acts were expected of him by now.

Oh, Cardan please. She would beg. It is your mercy I am at.

⋆⁺⋆⋆⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺

Another countless consecutive night, I’ve awoke from a fitful sleep. Restful nights have become a luxury I don’t often receive without, what others would call, an obscene amount of drink or powders. But no amount drink nor powders could free me from this torment.

I’m unsure how long I lay breathless among ruined sweat-soaked sheets before I rip them from my body, recoiling from the bed. Relieved to feel the cool of the wood chain press against my back, instead of the stick of linen.

This is entirely absurd and should be the least of my worries. My supposed girlfriend is frolicking around with my apparent best friend, and I cannot even get a simple mortal to leave me in a moment’s peace.

I fail in my attempt to disregard my most recent horror, memories forcing me to recall each moment. I need to forget each one. But I cannot. I remember them all.

Breath fails me just as much as forgetting does, I cannot go on like this. I am entirely restless.

Jude. She's just a blip. Her sad short mortal life merely just a chapter in comparison to my immortal one, I remind myself. She'll be gone before I've even noticed the years have passed. Jude. Gone. Buried beneath the strange mortal soil in which she came from. Gone and everything will be as though my mind was never plagued.

And yet even now after she's vanished, she remains remembered by the land. Her mark clinging onto the earth. The earth clinging onto her. Jude. As though she's supposed to be here.

But she's not.

It is unsettling, unnatural.

My skin itches whenever her & her twins’ blanket is a foot too close to ours, but she's not even here and I feel like I'm on fire. Invisible flame biting at my skin, engulfing my heart and shooting down to my gut. An appallingly disgusting sensation that cannot be properly explained to those unknowing of the feeling.

I fear I may lash out at any moment. A tamed animal resorting back to its feral ways, and she knows.

She knows; because she is the same. Nothing more than a dog trained to not bite the hand that feeds it. But every so often, something must give.

And something has.

Despite my, as of late highly frequent, delirious state there is no mistaking the gradual slip of her façade. Unbridle rage replacing usual strategic indifference. And though that rage is evidently directed at me, I would be unable to say I’m not intrigued. Intrigued by what she could possibly be mad about? Wondering of what sets her soul alight.

It is depraved, treacherous even, and I cannot contain this. I cannot shape this into a calculated void.

The blank papers sprawled before me on the desk seem to perfectly mirror my deteriorating mental state.

I am not sure if out of sheer anger or desperate yearning for relief, I feel I must write. Attempting to free my mind of every thought it holds.

I need it gone. All of it.

Could all be fixed if she was out of my sight?

I finish one page after another, only stopping when ink begins to leak uncontrolled from the battered end of the pen. I vacantly acknowledge the distant cramping of my fingers, slowly regaining focus.

Beyond some daze, I’m aware of what I've written. Aware of what I have wasted my parchment on.

Etched in ink that has smeared along the pages, onto my fingertips and the desk below me, is her. Jude. I can only stare at her name on the paper below me. Her odd, rounded name to match her odd, rounded ears. Jude.

In spite of my overly warm skin and unruly appearance, a strange serenity clouds my previous spiralling thoughts. Calm slips into the air around me.

But I don't welcome the feeling.

I don't wish to understand it. I don't wish to see it.

Before another thought can begin to plague me, I brush the stained bits of paper in to the first book I reach for – slamming it shut so hard a few stray pencils clatter to the ground, chasing a few stay pages of truth that avoided being encased inside the book. I’d have to remember to burn them later.

Only after a minute do I read the cover of the book beneath my hands. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass.

I almost laugh, as though some sick and twisted work of fate had given me the book itself, deciding to place it in my hands personally. The mortal book I got from my sister. The book my sister got from Judes sister.

I refuse to acknowledge it.

And yet, her name lingers on my fingertips as it lingers on the lands – even after she's gone.

☾ there was definitely more than one jude note, our man was feral for her

[devi1sange1]

Soooo did Holly Black just basically confirm another Jurdan book by confirming the next book won’t be a Nicasia pov or???

She fully called it a “straight sequel”…. anyways I’m hyperventilating.

[chaiichait]

I know we joke about Cardan's pining a lot but man, can you imagine how hard that must've been? Where you are so sure of your feelings toward the person and yet, they keep giving mixed signals. Jude always held him close only to push him away again. Cardan must've felt so defeated and used but still, he hangs on to that flicker of hope that he might get his feelings returned.

[alwaysbeenasmartgirl]

Jude and Cardan

Ok, can we talk about how Cardan tried to make Jude leave before she was crowned the queen of mirth?

He obviously knew what Locke was up to and wanted Jude to go without making it seem that he cared about her enough to make sure she left.

I wonder how bad he must have felt when Jude did not leave and was insulted and made fun of.

This is exactly why we NEED Cardan's pov of the entire storyline.

How the king of Elfhame learned to hate stories was not enough.

[ninainthetardis]

I really need that new FotA sequel to be Cardan's pov. Like, I really need that.

[darlingod]

The Cruel Prince ch. 20 by Holly Black

The Lost Sisters by Holly Black

A sort of parallel??

[tsundereplease]

I would bleed for a Cardan POV.

[likecanyoujustnot]

Jude’s trial, Cardan’s pov

A/n: I’m supposed to be getting ready for my birthday party but I have massive procrastination issues. And this picks off right where the letter ended. Kinda long.

“What do you mean he is dead?”

There were tears in Taryn’s eyes as I paced in front of her.

“He washed up on the beach near our house.” She sniffed. “I don’t know how it happened.”

“When did you notice he was missing?”

I had last seen him two days ago. Entertaining a group of young faeries.

“He didn’t come home after last night and that’s nothing out of the ordinary, you know how he is.”

Yes I did.

“What are you going to do about it?” She looks at me cautiously.

“Hold a trial, I want to find who did this.” I may hate his cheating guts but I wanted to know who in my court thought it was a good idea to kill off my master of revels.

She froze. “Am I a suspect?”

“For now, until we can rule out your innocence.”

She nodded slowly. “What if it was Jude?”

It was my turn to freeze. “What makes you think it was her?”

“She doesn’t like him, and she doesn’t like you much at the moment either, this could be her way of sending a message.”

Not likely. If she wanted to send a message she would’ve crept into my rooms and slit my throat while I slept. This wasn’t her style.

“Trials begin at the beginning of the week, in two days, you are first Taryn.”

She nodded and walked off, a slight tremble in her hands.

Dammit.

Valerian and Locke. Both dead. I didn’t mourn valerian and I doubted I would mourn Locke. They were both awful. But it was now just me and Nicasia. I would probably have to tell her of the murder. She’d probably believe it to be Jude. I don’t know how Taryn could sell out that it might be her twin sister.

I didn’t think it was, but still.

I gave instructions to the guards and Randalin and went back off to my room.

My head was pounding and I wanted nothing more than to just sleep.

I was the king. I could do whatever I wanted.

And so I slept.

The next few days passed without hassle, until the day of the inquest came.

I saw Nicasia first.

She looked awful. Tired and distant. A dress the colours of the sea on her. And next to her stood my mother.

It was night time, the first of the stars visible when a mortal woman walked up to where we stood.

She wore a bronze dress and had a hood pulled over her head.

Taryn looked so much like Jude it hurt. I wonder what would happen if I just left and ran off to the mortal lands to find my wife.

The cold voice of one of my personal guards cut through the chatter. “Taryn Duarte. Wife of Locke. You must stand in the place of petitioners.”

She moved to where she was indicated to stand.

“Taryn?” I asked.

She raises her eyes to me and I am struck by a realisation.

That’s not Taryn.

That’s Jude.

The high queen of faerie.

My wife.

My heart skipped a beat.

“Your majesty.” She said.

“We recognise your grief.” I did my best to keep my voice even. “We would not disturb your mourning were it not for questions over the cause of your husband’s death.” Though I supposed I’m her husband.

Jude.

Here.

“Do you really think she’s sad.” Nicasia cut in. I almost roll my eyes. She steps closer to Taryn- no, Jude- and I tense. Nicasia had a tendency to be irrational, had he friend had just been murdered, making her even more unpredictable. “Did you kill Locke yourself? Or did you get your sister to do it for you?”

“Jude is in exile.” Her words are soft, and I yet again marvel at how easily she can lie. “And I’ve never hurt Locke.”

“No?” I interjected. I leant forward on the throne. My tail twitched. She’s lying again. If she is truly Jude, which she is, she has hurt Locke in the past.

“I lov…” Jude stopped. To anyone else it would look like she was grieving, as though the words were too hard to say.

But I knew better. She was having to force herself to say it.

“I loved him.” She lets out a little sob.

“Sometimes I believed you did yes.” I force my tone to be absentminded, as though I didn’t care. I did believe she loved Locke. And I hated her, for loving him and not me, Locke for tricking her, and myself for not being good enough. “But you could be lying. I am going to put a glamour on you. All it will do is force you to tell us the truth.” I curved my hand and magic shimmered in the air.

“Now, tell me only the truth. What is your name?”

If she wears no protection, under the glamour, she will be forced to admit her title as well. Jude Duarte Greenbriar, High Queen of Elfhame, wife of Cardan.

And that would cause a huge problem.

“Taryn Duarte.” She curtsied. “Daughter of Madoc, wife of Locke, subject of the High King of Elfhame.

Liar. She had to be Jude. I smiled. “What fine courtly manners.”

“I was well instructed.” We were instructed together.

“Did you murder Locke?” There is a silence following my words. The folk quiet in apprehension.

“No.” She said, she gave a pointed look to Nicasia. “Nor did I orchestrate his death. Perhaps we ought to look to the sea, where he was found.”

I wanted to laugh at the poeticness of this moment. Either Taryn had killed Locke and didn’t want anyone to know, or Jude killed both of them and was know planning my own demise. That didn’t scare me as much as it should have.

Nicasia turns to me. “We know Jude murdered Balekin. She confessed as much. And I have long suspected her of killing Valerian.” I wondered how she would react if I told her she had killed him. “If Taryn isn’t the culprit then Jude must be. Queen Orlagh, my mother, swore a truce with you. What possible gain could sue have from the murder of your master of revels? She knew he was your friend- and mine.” Her voice breaks at the end, her grief palpable.

I peer back down at Jude. “Well, what do you think? Did your sister do it? And don’t tell me what I already know. Yes I sent Jude into exile. That may or may not have deterred her.”

She looks like she wants to punch me. “She had no reason to hate Locke, I don’t think she wished him ill.”

“Is that so?” I knew for a fact she did.

“Perhaps it is only court gossip, but there is a popular tale about you, your sister and Locke.” I wanted to snap at my mother for bringing herself into a conversation where she is not needed. “She loved him, but he chose you. Some sisters cannot bear to see the other happy.”

I glanced at her.

“Jude never loved Locke.” Her face went a slight pink. “She loved someone else. He’s the one she’d want dead.”

I flinched at both meanings to her words. She wanted me dead, and she loved me.

I wasn’t sure which alarmed me more.

She loved me

Loved.

As in past tense

“Enough.” I said before she could keep talking. “I have heard all I care to on this subject-”

“No!” Nicasia interrupted. Everyone stirred a little. She cut me off. The high king. She seems to realise it as she goes on. “Taryn could have a charm on her, something that makes her resistant to glamours.”

I glared at Nicasia for undermining my authority. I look back to Jude and give her a cruel smile. “I suppose she’ll have to be searched.”

I could sense Nicasia’s sneer.

Jude stood up taller in a position that reminded me of Oriana. “My husband was murdered. And whether or not you believe me, I do mourn him. I will not make a spectacle of myself for the court’s amusement when his body is barely cold.”

I admired the sheer will and determination in her voice.

My smile only grew. This is was chance to get her alone. “As you wish. Then I suppose I will have to examine you alone in my chambers.”

I could barely keep myself from smiling in glee. Jude was back. And she was following me to my rooms. And there I would ask her why she stayed away so long. Why she didn’t come home to me.

She was nervous, she had no clue I knew she wasn’t Taryn. And that scared her. She knew that if I had her undressed I would know her body. Her scars and imperfections.

Never mind I could tell who she was just off of her face.

I passed a hooded servant carrying pale green wine.

There was a cry and a crash behind me and I wip around. Jude is on the floor, the servant with her. Her dress soaked in wine and the shattered glass around them.

Jude helped the servant girl sweep up debris before she says. “Oh no, my lady, your pardon, you ought not lower yourself.”

One of my guards catches her arm. “Come along,” he said as he lifted her to her feet, and we continued walking.

Two servants open the heavy doors to my chambers and I threw myself down in a low couch in the parlour, Jude stood awkwardly in the centre of the room.

My feet rested on the stone table. “Well.” I said, patting the couch beside me, an invitation for her to sit. “Didn’t you get my letters?”

“What?” She croaked.

“You never replied to a one. I began to wonder if you’d misplaced your ambition in the mortal world.”

“Your majesty.” Her said, voice stiff. “I thought you brought me here to assure yourself I had neither charm nor amulet.”

I raised an eyebrow and my smile deepened. “I will if you like. Shall I command you to remove your clothes? I don’t mind.” Not in the slightest.

“What are you doing.” She’s desperate now. “What are you playing at?”

She still thought she can convince me she’s Taryn. It was adorable. “Jude, you can’t really think I don’t know it’s you. I knew you from the moment you walked in the brugh.”

She shook her head. “That’s not possible.”

I stood, watching her intently. “Come closer.”

She took a step back.

I frowned. “My councillors told me that you met with an ambassador from the court of teeth, that you must be working with Madoc now. I was unwilling to believe it, but seeing the way you look at me, pervades I must.” She was angry, and rightfully so, looking like she wanted to run me through with a knife. “Tell me it’s not true.” It could not be true, she wouldn’t plot against me, would she? Though if I died, she would be free to rule without me, Madoc whispering in her ear.

“I’m not the betrayer here.”

“Are you angry about-” I stopped, studying her face more carefully. “No, you’re afraid. But why would you be afraid of me?” I’d never done anything for her to fear.

“I’m not.” She trembled. “I hate you. You sent me into exile. Everything you say to me, everything you promise, it’s all a trick. And I, stupid enough to believe you once.”

“Of course it was a trick-” I noted that she was now holding a blade. Sheathed, but it looked deadly.

Suddenly everything shook. An explosion that was close enough to cause us both to stumble. Books fell and crystal orbs rolled onto the floor. I looked at her, surprised, before I realised, she could have done this. My eyes narrowed.

Then there’s the sound of metal striking metal, swords.

“Stay here.” She drew the blade.

No. “Jude, don’t-” I call after her as she slipped out of the room.

Dammit.

I had Jude back, and I would not loose her again. I drew into my power, commanding it to listen, to reshape the burgh. Commanding the doorways to crack and shrink. From the screams of the guards I knew that vines, roots and leaves were clicking them, starting to creep around their necks, strangling them.

They had taken Jude.

And they would not forget it.

[somewhereincairparavel]

TFOTA update (major spoilers for book 1): chapter 20

this book just keeps throwing plot twist after plot twist after plot twist on me and I'm falling for every.single.one. gosh. first jude kidnaps the human girl to free her into the mortal world, and she drowns herself? Then Dain yells at Jude for the thing I WASN'T expecting (stabbing Valerian) and then Jude fucking KILLS Valerian not even a few minutes later, then buried the body in HER house, then Balekin gatecrashes and slaughters almost everyone in his fucking blood line in the matter of MINUTES. Madoc kills Dain?? And ghost kills Caelia?? Rhyia kills herself?? Taryn and Locke might secretly have an affair??

Jude feels pleasure in seeing Cardan miss out on the coronation bc he got drunk which is ironically the best thing he did bc he dodged a bullet?? Now Cardan is the only hope elfhame has, which is also super ironic since Jude was marvelling over how glad she was that cardan wasn't ever going to be king in the first few chapters.

I NEED A MOMENT TO TAKE ALL THIS IN

[most-ment]

Chosen

It wasn't supposed to end this way;

With heavy betrayal hanging in the air.

One year and a single day,

This isn't something I think she can bear.

🖤

A thousand promises broken.

Trust isn't a common currency here.

Soo many feelings unspoken,

And that's how it'll remain for the next seven years.

🖤

You wanted power,

You wanted safety and revenge.

You achieved it all with your soul devoured;

A black heart, unable to repent.

🖤

I didn't want it to end like this;

With him betrayed and you broken.

I had put all my hopes on a kiss,

But you chose the choices you've chosen.

~🖤~🖤~🖤~🖤~

~My pov~

Hello loves, my exams are finally rounding up and I can breathe. I have soo many poems I wanna share with y'all and insha'Allah I will. This is inspired from the first book of the folk of air series; CRUEL PRINCE🖤

Hope you like it. Tell me if you'd like poems from the remaining books yeah?

Next poem: Juggler

My cruel tag list: @jayrealgf @think-through-pen @think-inpoetry @unforgettable-sensations @timeflieslikebanana @jordynelectricboogaloo @jordynhaiku @moonandbackprincess @moonlitpoems @mk-ranz @haikudude @hauntedjellyfishtraveler @hollyblack

[sour-fish]

hi so basically ive been hearing people say that they wrote like a cadans pov version of tfota and i need it.

WHERE IS IT haha im going crazy yes yes but seriously are they lying to me or like playing tricks because im just not okay:D

so underline is: if you know someone or like a link or name of a fanfic like that please leave a comment id realy appreciate it thankz:]]]

oh yeah and just good fanfics in general

[skullywullypully]

"The sight of the human servants unnerved him. Their empty eyes and chapped lips. Nothing like the twins from the palace school.

He thought of one of those girls frowning over a book, pushing a lock of brown hair back over one oddly curved ear.

He thought of the way she looked at him, brows narrowed in suspicion.

Scornful, and alert. Awake. Alive.

He imagined her as a mindless servant and felt a rush of something he couldn't quite untangle- horror, and also a sort of terrible relief. No ensorcelled human could look at him as she did."

-Pg 47 of How The King Of Elfhame Learned To Hate Stories

[naughtnixnothing]

jude "i can see you being my addiction" duarte and cardan "you can see me as a secret mission" greenbriar

[highladyofterrasen7]

I did it

Cardans letters pov

@likecanyoujustnot

[clockworkbee]

Love how you read a book and be like "omg I hate this character so much, I could burn in my own rage" and then you read their pov in the next book and be like "nobody come near my baby, I'm gonna protect them to death" !!!

[absinthemind3d]

I Only Want You - Chapter 2

Read on AO3 above or here, above and below the cut >>>

Chapter 1: Jude's POV is here (tumblr) or here (AO3)

I Only Want You - Chapter 2: Cardan's POV (1630 words)

---

“That is good,” I begin slowly, unsure of how to proceed without being able to lie. Eventually, I settle on, “For I would not wish you to.” 

Hurt flickers briefly across her face, but it’s quickly replaced with what I know to be ire. 

I have to be alright with letting her think that I do not want her here, that I might not want her at all. 

The alternative, that I would rather it be her raking her hands down my stomach, her fixing her attention to every inch of my body — it’s unforgivable. 

Yes, I kissed her, and yes, I want her, but she? Judging by the anger rolling off of her in waves as she glares at me from against the wall, chest heaving, I do not think she wants me. I do not think she wants anything to do with me, besides commanding my hand. 

“In that case,” she eventually spits out, speaking as though every word is difficult to expel, “I shall take my leave of you. You’ll be pleased to know your chambers are secure.” She bows again, muttering what I think must be curses and rubbing her knees before she rises and turns to exit through the secret door by which she gained entry to this tableau. 

That same look of hurt — she must be in an exorbitant amount of physical pain from the mirror hitting her legs — crosses her face before she turns, and it gives me pause. I want to comfort her. 

I turn my head as far as I am able in this position and look both my bedfellows in the eyes. They look expectant, as though they have not yet had their fill. I certainly have not either — I am still tortured by thoughts of Jude, and of course, ill timed devil that she is, she appears! 

I cannot sate myself on anyone, though, I think sadly. No matter how many times I attempt this, no matter the number of lovers I add to an evening — and there have been several more than two, at times — I cannot shake her. 

I make up my mind just as she moves to close the door behind her. “Leave us,” I command them, and their faces fall but they obey me, silently slipping from my side, gathering their clothing, but making no attempt to clothe themselves before leaving the bedroom. I have servants in the next room who can escort them to my bath, where they can wash themselves clean of me — though perhaps not each other, just yet. That is fine; they may do as they wish. 

I look back to the door where Jude — is still frozen. I can just see her fingers, tense against the handle, through the few inches she has left the door ajar. 

I try to maintain a picture of ease as I call to her. “Dearest Jude, whatever were you doing traipsing through my passageways at this time of the evening?” I’d rather she be traipsing through some of my other passageways. I cannot think that, though, not if I want to be able to maintain my calm facade through the next few moments.

She nearly falls back through the door, she turns so fast. “You know, I could command you not to ask me such inane questions,” she remarks, the same hand that was upon the door handle now pointing a finger towards my face. Her other hand hovers by the hilt of her sword. 

“It would be a blessing,” I drawl, “To not have to ask them in the first place.” 

She advances on me now. “What I do for the safety and security of the Crown is none of your concern — your only job is not to get murdered, or stabbed to death by a jealous lover, or—” 

Her eyes are wild as she approaches the bed, where I am still lounging, quite starkly naked. I think she must have forgotten this in her haste, and is now searching for a focal point that isn’t somewhere below my waist. 

“Dearest Jude,” I murmur, catching her wrist before she can come any closer (though she is already so, so close), “I put myself in your capable hands, as you know.” I smile simply, patting her hand in what I hope is a comforting gesture. As if being patted on the hand by a naked faerie is in any way comfortable to a human being. 

It does seem to make her soften, if only a little. What comes out of my mouth next is completely involuntary. 

“Jude,” I speak even softly than I did before, looking right into her eyes, “Why did you appear so hurt earlier?”

She pretends she doesn’t know what I mean, looking away from me and furrowing her brow. “I don’t know what you could possibly be referring to. I am not hurt; I am embarrassed.” 

By now, I have become well-acquainted with Jude’s facial expressions, and I know she was not embarrassed. Not in that moment, at least. But fine — I knew humans could be squeamish about sexual activity. I could pretend this was all that she felt, if that is what she wished. But why would she not tell me the truth?

“What are you embarrassed about?” I asked, open curiosity on my face. I am not sure why I didn’t just let her leave, or why my mouth continues to betray me. She gapes at me. 

“I didn’t know you had company,” she answers pointedly before gesturing to my body, “Or that you’d be so flagrantly displaying yourself for this long.” She blushes further, and maybe I don’t need to pretend that Jude is squeamish about nudity.

“Flagrant?” I tease, running my free hand along my side and down to my leg. “What about this is flagrant? I rather prefer to call it art.” 

She tries to back away from me — I realize I am still holding her by the wrist. I release it and she turns to go, spitting over her shoulder, “Have someone come and paint it for you then.” 

Something about the venom in her voice, the set of her shoulders, the way her recently released wrist shakes ever so slightly — it pushes me over the edge. If my mouth was betraying me before, my body is beginning to do the same. 

I rise, and as if she can sense my movement, she pauses in her stride. She stiffens as I walk closer, but I only pass by her right shoulder to retrieve a robe. As I shrug it on, I stalk back to her and circle her body, stopping when I am in front of her. Now I am between her and the door. 

“My sweet mortal commander,” I purr, “You must know there are hundreds who would line up to paint this body with their mouths. That I should have to obscure its brilliance in your presence is—insulting.”

“Good,” she grinds out through her teeth, “You need a healthy dose of reality. Not everyone is lining up.” Yet, as she speaks, her eyes trail down the long open V of the robe, to where I have tied it just above that area she was so pointedly trying to ignore before. 

Her eyes widen slightly when she sees how the robe isn’t concealing the way I am feeling.

“And yet,” I smirk, reaching out to touch her cheek. She stiffens but does not move away. “You are still here.” 

There is something in the air between us; by touching her cheek and bridging the gap between our bodies, I seem to have stirred it. Colour is still high on her cheeks, but she is sticking her chin out in defiance. Whatever she is attempting to conquer, I am sure I can make her forget it. 

Kiss me until I am sick of it.

I wonder, not for the first or even hundredth time, what our kiss felt like for her. I also wonder how much of my evening’s previous festivities she was privy to. The idea that she watched most of it voluntarily after stumbling upon the scene suddenly sends a rush of blood to my cock, and I hold back a groan. 

“Jude,” I manage to exhale, and it sounds more like a sigh than a question. “I will ask you again, and pray tell you do not lie — why did you look so hurt earlier?” 

She steps closer to me now, and a thrill rolls through my body as the static in the air fully charges. “Your Majesty,” she starts, gazing up at me through her lashes as her hands come to her hips. I want them on mine. “I beg you not to question me. You are very lucky I do not make it a command as I threatened.” 

“Why, Jude? Whatever might be the reason” — I step closer now, nearly closing the gap between our bodies — “that you do not want any questions?” 

“That, too, is a question,” she groans, exasperated. “Please, Cardan—” 

And I am undone. The way she says my name has me cupping her face in both my hands, stepping as close as I can so that we crash into each other. If she chose to pull away I would let her, and I pause to give her the space if she needs. I am a madman at this rate; High King be damned, I should be hanged for this sort of behaviour.

I pull back just enough to wait for the shove that I am sure is coming. Instead, she grins at me wickedly and grabs my face, pushing me back into the door she came through so hard that it slams shut. 

“Now that,” she pants a bit, “is a question I can answer.”