#cardan's pov

[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.

[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.

[bookish-phile]

so who was it that told me jude would be pregnant in tpt? because darling i will hunt you and strangle you for bringing my hopes so high only to brutally crush them

[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

[ao-ihinata]

Am I one of the few who isn't hoping for a jurdan POV book ?! like, if we get one I'd be quite happy but I'm excited for the possibility of Nicasia's POV

Don't you want to know what goes through her mind ?! will we know why she tried to tell Jude Locke was making her the side piece ?! what has she been doing these past 10 years besides speed dating lol

[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

[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

[eerna]

sorry I have to point out that over those few days after the duel in the snow Madoc sent Cardan a very rude letter saying “FUCK YOU MY DAUGHTER IS DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU” even though he doesn’t even know Cardan was there that night. he truly hates this dude with all of his fatherly heart

[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

[rainbowsandwhumperflies]

The Winged Servant - 6

cws: nonhuman whumpee, shock collar mentions, multiple whumpers

masterlist

note: this chapter is kinda rough and very short. my apologies, writing it felt like wrestling and wrangling an annoying concept into words. and it won against me. it's because this one is supposed to be set up for some fun chapters that are coming up soon!! so stay tuned!!

I didn’t realize that Prince Ryan had never put the collar back on until I was being handed platters of food in the kitchen. Maybe it was just a small mercy, like the twelve minutes I’d had to myself before dinner—he gave me those, sometimes, if he didn’t have to go out of his way for them—but it seemed different tonight.

Everything was different tonight and no one would fucking tell me why.

It was unreasonable to demand knowledge of these types of things, of course, I reminded myself.. The royal family always had my best interests in mind. Always. Every weird thing that happened today did not change that.

Serving dinner, at least, was the same. Carry three platters of food out of the kitchen and into the dining room, place them on the table, don’t make too much noise, don’t interrupt any conversation going on already. It was easy, as long as I didn’t drop anything, until-

“Onyx.”

Prince Ryan didn't talk to me during dinner. I was supposed to work like a well-oiled machine, serving food without making my presence obvious. I wasn’t supposed to be talked to and I wasn’t supposed to bow and my existence wasn’t supposed to be acknowledged.

I bowed at Prince Ryan's feet as soon as he spoke, trying not to let my surprise show. “May I assist you with something, Your Highness?” Talking wasn't so hard. It was just repeating the script I had been trained to say. Even if I didn’t usually talk here, it was the same script.

“We're going somewhere tonight. You need a pair of shoes. You can borrow some of mine. I want you ready to leave by the time we're done eating. Don't worry about dishes or anything—we have more important things to be doing right now.”

 Repeating the script wasn't bad, except that Price Ryan had been abandoning the script all day and I didn't know where to go from there. “Yes, Your Highness,” I said, because what else was there to say?

“Any questions?”

I swallowed, trying to get used to the feeling of doing it without the collar. It’d had prongs with which to distribute the electricity, and my neck felt bare without them digging in. I could ask about it, but Prince Cardan had started glaring at me, and maybe it would be in everyone’s best interests to excuse myself from the table. “No, Your Highness. Thank you.”

He waved a hand at me, turning away, and I did my best to stay steady and graceful as I practically ran back to the kitchen. This was probably fine, right? It wasn’t going to be that big of a deal, right? I was just- just wearing shoes and leaving the house, like I was a human. And the prince had said it so nonchalantly.

“Onyx,” Jayden said firmly, squeezing one of my hands, and I blinked. From the look on his face, it was not the first time he’d said my name.

“My apologies, sir.”

“That’s alright. Let’s get some food in you before we leave, okay?”

“Okay,” I echoed. It had been awhile since I’d eaten, I realized. This morning, maybe. A meal would get my head back on straight, at the least.

“It’ll be alright,” Jayden told me as he set a plate in front of me, and I nodded. I would be alright. The royal family always had my best interests in mind. As long as I did what I was told, I would be alright, no matter how odd anything seemed to me.

~

taglist: @kaleidoscope-of-thoughts @toyybox @rainydaywhump

[theunwedbride]

// me after seeing there’s no lala x chaos fanfics: fine. I’ll do it myself.

[likecanyoujustnot]

Cardan’s letters pov

Part 6: Jude

A/n: i wish holly hadve just had Asha put the letters in like a drawer and not burnt them because cardan really put his heart and soul into these letters

Part 5

I’d gone through an entire bottle of wine in the past hour. Plus whatever I’d had at dinner. I’d sworn I would drink as much after I became king.

The bomb had had one glass.

She looked at me with so much pity in her eyes I knew I must look like shit.

Another week had gone by with no correspondence from Jude. Not even a threat or anything to tell me she wasn’t coming back.

Just… nothing.

And it was killing me.

The bomb had been doing her usual routine spying from the rafters, keeping a special eye out for the ghost and anyone who worked for Madoc.

And upon seeing me absolutely wasted she’d taken me back to my room, where I’d proceeded to open another bottle.

“Why won’t she come home?” God I sounded pathetic.

She shrugged. “How am I supposed to know?”

“You’re her friend. You know how she works.”

“And so do you. You’re her… whatever.” Husband. The word meant nothing if no one but us knew. “You’ve known her longer than I have.”

And yet, I didn’t know why she stayed away.

“I just want her back.”

The bomb’s gaze softened, just a bit. “Maybe you shouldn’t’ve exiled her.”

“She killed my brother.”

“And yet you still want her back.”

“I don’t care about the brother part, it’s that if I hadn’t, Orlagh could’ve demanded a much higher price.” I took another gulp of the wine. “Her life.”

The bomb grabbed the glass from my hand. “No more of this. Don’t look at me like that, can’t have Jude back if you drink yourself to death.”

As much as I hated to admit it, she was right.

“You should get some sleep.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because you are my king, and I can’t have you acting like this.”

“You never cared before.” I leaned back on the couch and surveyed the spy.

“Jude was here before.”

“My every minute of existence does not revolve around her.”

She looked at me, as though I had found a way to lie. But it wasn’t a lie, otherwise I couldn’t have said it. My sleeping minutes didn’t revolve around her. Technicalities.

“You keep telling yourself that. The denial is so strong you can even convince yourself that’s true.”

“What do you mean?”

She leaned forward, forearms on her knees. “You, High King Cardan, in love with your mortal seneschal, Jude Duarte.”

She was good. And right. I couldn’t deny it, and the bomb knew that judging by the massive smile on her face.

“What do you know of love?”

“More than you’d think.” There was a sorrow in her voice. “But I do know you stare at Jude when you think no one is looking, you have been miserable since she left. You yearn for her presence, for her to be with you and it kills you that she’s not here.”

Damn.

“What about you and the roach?”

Her smile dropped a fraction. “That is none of your concern.”

“Well then my relationships shouldn’t be any of yours.”

There was a pause, she sighed. “Look at us, the king of elfhame and his spy, sharing our miserable lives full of unrequited love.”

I sat up. “You think she doesn’t feel the same?”

She shrugged and took a sip from the wine glass she’d removed from me. “Jude’s mind works in strange ways, but then again so does yours.” She laughed. “Exile the woman you love, great idea, what could possibly go wrong?”

I scowled and she laughed again. “You can’t even deny you love her.”

“We’ve established that.”

“That’s what makes it funny.”

“Not to me.”

She shrugged again. “She definitely feels something for you, I saw the hurt in her eyes that day on the beach. Probably would’ve pained her less had you stabbed her in the stomach.”

Screw it. “We’re ma-”

There was a knock on the door. And the bomb got up to answer it.

I couldn’t hear the hushed words exchanged. I’d been so close to telling her the truth. Jude was queen. Her queen. My queen. And my wife.

The bomb came back and grabbed her cloak, calling over her shoulder. “There’s been an issue with some of our spies, I have to go take care of it. Don’t drink anymore.”

As if I would listen to her.

Everyone said alcohol was bad for you, but I was the high king, I was stronger and more powerful than the average faerie. And it numbed the pain.

That’s what I told myself as I went through another bottle.

I woke up, head pounding and wanting to throw up. How much did I drink?

At least I was in my bed, nothing but a pair of pants on.

There were three empty bottles on the table outside my bed chamber. So I��d had two once the bomb left. Not as many as I feared.

There was a note on the table, from the bomb?

No, it was in my handwriting.

One word.

Over and over again.

Until it got to the second last, which was different.

JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE JUDE

please Jude.

There were a few ink splatters on the page. Giving the intention drunk me had pressed too hard with the quill.

Seeing it brought back the memory of when we’d been in the court of shadows after the coronation.

When she’d questioned me about finding it in my room.

I didn’t ask how she’d found it, or why she’d been in my room. I didn’t care. And I didn’t care now. I just cared that she wasn’t here.

I didn’t even put on a shirt as I walked out of my room.

“This letter gets to Jude Duarte, or I will personally see your demise.”

The man looked at me, fear in his eyes as he took me in. Mad gilt in my eyes, no shirt, undoubtedly smelling of wine. He grabbed the letter and ran off.

I went back to my room.

I’d barely slammed the door shut before I’d collapsed against it, head in my hands.

How had I gotten here?

Someone knocked on the door.

A deep rumbling voice reached me, muffled through the door. “Your majesty.”

“Go away.” I hissed.

“I’m afraid it’s urgent.” The fool didn’t even hesitate.

“It. Can. Wait.”

“Taryn Duarte is here to see you.”

“She can wait too.”

“She says her husband is dead.”

I flung open the door.

“What?”

I’m done!!

I’m not sure if I should write the trial from Cardan’s pov?

Or do smth manorian

Idk

Give me ideas

[naughtnixnothing]

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