#murder is a strong word for what Jude was going to do to cardan

[highladyofterrasen7]

There’s something poetic that Eva Duarte was murdered by her fae husband, and then one of her mortal daughters murdered her own fae husband, and the other was prepared to murder her fae husband.

[laequiem]

Cheek to Cheek in Hell - Chapter 14

Fandom: The Folk of the Air

Pairing: Jude Duarte/Cardan Greenbriar

Rating: explicit

Word count: 3,400

When the Duarte twins first came to Elfhame, I did not notice them much. I was still half-feral, the Prince who stole food from the palace for himself and the toad he cuddled for warmth. One day, I realized that the humans were not servants but the Grand General’s wards. They got to go home to his stronghold, like they had any rights to live in our world. It planted the first seed of envy in me.

fanfiction masterlist • ao3

Chapter 13 • next chapter • Cheek to Cheek masterpost

When the Duarte twins first came to Elfhame, I did not notice them much. I was still half-feral, the Prince who stole food from the palace for himself and the toad he cuddled for warmth. One day, I realized that the humans were not servants but the Grand General’s wards. They got to go home to his stronghold, like they had any rights to live in our world. It planted the first seed of envy in me.

It wasn’t until they attended school with the Gentry that they shifted from Madoc’s mortal daughters to Jude and her sister. My hatred for them sprouted, especially for Jude, who would not show me the deference everyone else did, as if she knew I didn’t deserve any of it. Her defiance was aggravating. Out of all my classmates, she was the only one who refused to let me win. Our sparring matches were vicious, and though I often ended up winning, she fought until her arms started to shake with exhaustion and her feet could barely hold her up. I had never felt something as strong as my hatred for her until then. I craved her presence like one feels the urge to touch a flame despite knowing a burn will follow. 

Even when she was at our mercy, that day my friends pushed her and Taryn in the river, she kept defying me. So focused was she on disrespecting me, she failed to notice she was bothering the nixies enough for them to consider her for a snack. When I saw the shapes dart away from the group towards her, my rotten heart twisted painfully. On that day, I understood that I wanted to be the only cause of her pain.

We will break you, I had told her that day. You’re a fragile little thing.

It was the closest I have ever been to telling a lie. I had convinced myself of its truth. That, by her being born a mortal, she could only be weak. I did not know what I know now: Jude Duarte never breaks. 

 It was when Jude and Locke started stealthily brushing hands and stealing kisses that I realized the true depth of my feelings. I wanted to hurt her, yes. More than anything, though, I wanted her. My hands had ached to close into a fist and punch Locke right in his treacherous face for taking someone I love away from me again. Because I was utterly in love with Jude Duarte, there was no denying it. 

She ought to have killed me, that day she snuck into my room. Every day I have spent alive since then, I have only grown more besotted. While I used to hate myself for loving her so, I now struggle to understand why I ever tried to deny it. My friends would laugh at what I’ve become. Balekin would beat the life out of me if he knew what I was about to do. Hopefully, Jude will kill me before I can embarrass myself in front of others. 

It’s early afternoon when I get back to the apartment, carrying my heart in a Moon in a Cup tote bag. The apartment smells faintly of coffee, a drink that Jude has started drinking since moving here. She says it wakes her up, and I can see why: it’s so bitter that she has no choice but to wake up. I can only stand it with two spoonfuls of honey and about as much cream as can fit in my cup. Jude drinks it ‘black’—though it’s more of a dark brown, like her eyes in dimmed light.

Jude sits cross-legged on the couch, a mug of coffee in one hand and a murder mystery book she borrowed from Maureen in the other.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” she asks, not even looking up from her page.

 I didn’t tell her that I took the day off. I also did not tell her that I was going to work, so I did not have to lie. I simply slipped out of bed when she was still asleep. I bite my lip to suppress a nervous smile and take the white box out of the tote bag. 

Jude finally looks up from her book. I can see the gears turn in her mind as she looks from the box to me. “What’s this?” she asks.

She puts her mug and book on the table, and I hand her the box. 

“A gift,” I tell her. “Happy Birthday, Jude.”

Her eyes widen as she looks at me, then at the box, then at me again. When she opens the box, the gasp she lets out is so pure, I wish I could bottle it up.

“Cardan, you—” she starts, but stops herself.

Inside the box are four small tarts filled with custard, the top lightly browned and dusted with powdered sugar. 

“Pastéis de nata. Your favorite, right?”

One morning before work, I stopped at a small café to get myself something to eat. Moon in a Cup, it turns out, is owned by a pixie named Kaye. A place where both worlds meet—the perfect place to have the pastries made for Jude. So I called the coffee shop yesterday, asking them to prepare these natas. The barista who served me this morning had a few words to say about my kind and how entitled we are, but he was all bark and no bite. He gave me my pastries, along with a to-go cup of cornflower tea.

“Yes,” Jude answers, her voice bewildered. She takes one of the tartlets and bites into it with a happy moan. “I can’t believe you remembered.”

I remember too much about her, but thankfully she doesn’t know that. 

“Your actual gift, though, is this,” I tell her, presenting her with a bundle of fabric tied with hemp rope. 

Jude frowns at me again, then unwraps it. Hidden under layers of thick fabric, a dagger rests on her knees, the blade protected by an ornate sheath. Jude wraps her hand around the handle and unsheathes it. Her brows bunch together in confusion, then her confusion turns to understanding, and she laughs. 

“Cardan,” she says, reading the name on the blade. 

This time, I can't control my smile. Let her see how proud I am of this little stunt. The blacksmith is a regular client of McNamara Jewelry, always looking for lesser cuts of stones to add to his work. As soon as I saw examples of his work, I knew he was the man for the job. 

“When you decide you’ve had enough of me,” I explain, “you now have a blade to kill me with.”

Jude runs a finger along the blade, tracing the letters before running a finger along the sharp edge, testing it. She’s silent for too long, I fear she can hear my heart beating furiously in my chest. I lean towards her, hoping to taunt her to say something, anything, so that I can stop worrying that she does not like my gift. 

“Unless you don’t want to kill me anymore,” I taunt. 

In the blink of an eye, the blade is against my throat. I back a step, but she closes the distance and soon enough, I am standing with my back against the wall, the sharp edge of the blade against my throat. 

“You make it hard to let go of that particular urge,” she says, grinning. There is a challenge in her eyes, though, a hint of teasing to her voice. 

She shifts the blade so that the point digs in my chin. I have no choice but to lift my chin, then I am gazing down at her. 

“Thank you,” she croons. 

Jude has lived in Elfhame for most of her life. She knows our customs. She knows that these words should never be uttered to my kind, for they are nothing short of an insult. She knows, and that’s why she is using them just now, letting me know that she is in power and that she will not owe me anything despite my gifts. I expected nothing less. 

What Jude does not know, it seems, is that I have depraved tastes. The words stir in me a feeling not unlike lust, a desire to let her debauch me to her liking. It sends blood rushing southward, and I can’t help it—I laugh. Jude raises a brow, confused. 

“Don’t get me too riled up, Jude dearest,” I say. “As much as I would love to let you ravish me, we’re heading out.”

——

Wrath Axe Throwing is so very… human. It’s all I can think about as the attendant explains the rules to Jude and me. Rules created to emphasize safety, just like the iron cages that separate every row where others are already throwing axes at the walls. Instead of targets set outside, everything is indoors, in tight rows covered in wood shavings. There is a line drawn on the floor that we must never cross and, a few feet further, the target we must shoot. It’s a typical bullseye target, along with two small dots outside of the bullseye that are worth more if hit. 

Once the attendant leaves, I look at the axes, lined up on a table for us to use. Jude is in the row next to mine, already weighing the axes one after the other. She looks up to me when she notices me staring.

“How did you even find this place?” she asks.

I shrug, trying to act all nonchalant. “I figured you would prefer this to me taking you out to a fancy restaurant.” 

My blasé attitude falters when she turns her prying eyes on me. My lips twitch up, betraying my nervousness as much as my tail would if it weren’t trapped between mortal clothes. She studies me, squinting. I look away, trying to hide the smile widening on my face.

“First one to get to 20 points wins,” Jude calls, her voice full of challenge.

Jude rolls her shoulders before grabbing the smallest axe. She tests its weight, rolling her wrist. As she braces herself to throw, my eyes are glued to her. The tanktop she is wearing leaves nothing to the imagination–her arms are fully on show, biceps flexing as she holds the axe above her shoulder. When she throws, my eyes stay glued to her back, watching the shift in her shoulders muscles.

“Bullseye,” she says as she whirls to face me, pride glinting in her eyes.

She looks at me expectantly, nodding towards my own target. I swallow hard, then turn to face the target. 

Since the incident that left me banned from the palace, I have neglected my training in sharpshooting. My chances of beating Jude at an accuracy-based contest are slim, and there is no world in which she will let me win. I would not have it any other way, of course. I aim my axe for the bullseye and throw. I hit right outside of it, in the 4 point zone. 

Jude’s next axe mirrors where mine just went, while my second one hits bullseye. 10-10. We don’t stay tied for long, however, because her third axe hits bullseye again, while mine barely makes it to the largest ring. 1 point. 

At 16-11, my chances of beating her rely on those blue dots outside of the bullseye, two eyes gazing at me and taunting me. A killshot, a redemption, worth 10 points, because missing the dot means that I get no point. 

“If I hit a killshot” I ask her, already aiming my shot so I don’t have to look at her, “will you go on another date with me?”

“So this is a date, then,” she says. 

“Of course,” I reply. Jude lines up her shot, her arm readying for her throw. “This is how courting works on this side of the ocean, is it not? I take you out on dates, then you may agree to be my lover.”

Jude’s throw goes wide, the axe embedding itself in the floor at the foot of the target. I concentrate on my own throw, the axe heavy in my hand. The only axes I have left are some of the heaviest ones and though Jude missing her throw gives me another chance to hit a bullseye and be ahead, I have already called what I plan on doing, and I won’t back down.

I breathe in deeply and, on the exhale, I swing the axe, releasing when my wrist is parallel with my ear. It hits the left dot, splitting a crack down the middle of it. 

I turn to Jude, grinning widely, “I win.”

Jude is simply staring at me, her eyes wide. She blinks, her eyes focused on me. I don’t think she even looked at my throw, and I feel a pang of disappointment at that. 

”You want us to be... lovers,” she says carefully, as if she does not quite believe it.

Only now do I realize that my palms are sweaty. Her disbelief has my heart beating harder, like it believes that she’ll reject me. I turn my back to her and go retrieve the axes I threw from the target board. 

“Yes,” I finally answer, when my back is to her and she can’t see my face.

When I place the axes back on the table, I realize Jude’s eyes are still on me, tracking my every movement. 

“Romantic partners,” she clarifies, her voice low. “Not just sex.”

“Ideally,” I reply curtly. 

I should be flattered that the idea of being my sexual partner seems less alarming to her than being my lover, but I can’t bring myself to appreciate it. I want more.

“Exclusive partners,” she says, her voice still full of disbelief.

I chuckle at that. “Well—I will not be taking other lovers, but if you must...” I shrug, straightening the axes on the table to give my hands something to do. “I will take what you will give me. I knew you were with Locke, but I did not realize you shared his—” 

“If you finish this sentence, I’m walking out,” Jude snaps.

A bell rings, indicating the end of our hour-long session. We make our way out of the throwing center, stopping at the checkroom to grab our coats. 

“I thought you hated me,” Jude mutters as I hand her coat to her. 

“As much as you hate me,” I reply teasingly, slipping on my own coat.

Her silence as we walk back to the subway station weighs on me, but I let her think, looking up at the overcast sky. Were I more superstitious, I might be worried at the sight of the stormy clouds on the day I decided to ask Jude out. I was born under cursed stars, however, and too much of my life has been dictated by fate already. If Jude rejects me, it will have nothing to do with the universe, and everything to do with me. 

Jude’s silence stretches longer still as we make our way to the underground tunnels of the subway. It’s as damp and gloomy as ever, stinking with iron. I concentrate on the lavender scent of Jude’s dreadful 3-in-1 shampoo, the sound of her steps on the concrete. I adjust my coat under me as we sit on a metal bench to wait for the subway. 

When Jude finally speaks, her voice sounds almost bitter. “No romantic date can start things over between us, Cardan. No amount of gallantry can make me forgive you for what you’ve done to me over the years,” she sighs. “Who’s to say this isn’t another one of your ploys to hurt me?” 

I huff a small laugh, then turn to her. I grab her hand in mine.

“If I hurt you, you would find a way to hurt me back,” I run my thumb over the scar on her palm. I look down at our joined hands as I continue, “You would break my heart.” 

“Break your...” Jude starts, but I stop her with a squeeze of my hand. 

“I love you, Jude.” I lift our joined hands and put it over my heart. “My heart is yours to break.”

“Cardan, I…” Jude starts again, but she trails off. She looks… unsure. I can’t say I blame her. 

“I don’t expect you to share my feelings,” I specify, letting go of her hand. “I have not made myself easy to—”

Before I can make more of a fool of myself, or because I am making a fool out of myself, Jude closes the distance between us and kisses me. Her lips are confident, nothing like the way she kissed me that first time. Her hand cradles my chin and I let her take the lead, pliable under her touch. I reach for her, my hands searching up her arms until I find her hair. With no maid to put it up in intricate braids, she has been wearing it in messy buns and simple ponytails. It’s no hard task to slide my finger under the hair tie and pull until her hair falls in brown waves. 

When she kisses me, it’s like her humanity seeps into me. I forget the stink of iron around me, I forget everything about Elfhame and how anyone back at court would react to me wanting her. I forget about Balekin taunting me about her. She is all I want, and all I need. 

My hands drift to her waist and Jude takes it as an opportunity to straddle me. She towers above me, divine in both power and beauty. With the salty traces of sweat on her skin and her hair falling in unkempt waves, she fits the look of a war goddess, and I the lost soul seeking her wisdom. Nothing matters but her—I hear the train coming into the station, stopping for a few seconds, and leaving again. I ignore it and prop Jude up on my lap, my hands on her ass, delightfully firm beneath tight jeans. 

“Does this mean you will let me be yours?” I ask against her lips, breathless.

Unless my imagination is wilder than I thought, Jude wants me. She’s attracted to me, but I can’t figure out what she wants. I meant it when I said I would take what she gives me, but I am greedy, and I want all of her. 

Jude bites her lip ever so slightly and nods, her cheeks darkening to a red-tinged shade of brown. A warmth blooms in my chest, an unknown feeling that I never knew I needed in my life. When I kiss her again, I can’t stop smiling against her lips. With every movement, our teeth clack together, and my smile widens. It’s an awful kiss, yet it’s the best kiss I’ve ever experienced. My heart is a restless thing in my chest, but it’s swollen, pride and love filling the shriveled husk. 

Jude pushes at my shoulders half-heartedly. I don’t want to, but I pull away.

“We should probably head home,” she says, nodding towards the incoming train. 

She makes no move to hop off my lap, however, so I carry her inside.

We kiss the whole way home, ignoring those around us who groan in annoyance. To me, there is only Jude, her hands tangled in my hair and mine on her waist. Our walk from the subway to the apartment takes twice as long as it usually does. We keep stopping, pushing each other against the nearest wall and clawing at clothing until the frigid wind reminds us to find shelter, to get home.

We finally make it to the apartment. I fumble for my keys while Jude fumbles with my belt, until she grows annoyed with how long I’m taking and grabs my keys from me. She turns to the door and freezes, swearing under her breath.

“This can’t be good,” she says, moving out of the way so I can see what she is looking at.

Hanging around the door handle with a red ribbon is an acorn, riddled with holes as if some parasite had made a meal out of it. I don’t need to open it to confirm, I know what it is. 

It’s a message—a threat. Someone from Elfhame has found us.

——

Tag list: @figonas @kingandfireheart @adxmparriish @godgavemelou @hazelsheartsworn @zumurruds @inconspicuoussophia

[probablytenderjourneys]

Jude and Cardan headcanons - taking place during and after Jude's abduction, part 1

With Jude gone, Cardan felt like he couldn't breathe. His mind kept coming up with all different kinds of cruelty Queen Orlagh, Balekin and Nicasia could inflict on Jude. Are they feeding her? Is she glamoured? Is she mad at him? Is she waiting for someone to go save her? Did they break her, his mortal, his seneschal, his Jude?

Every night, he walks past her chambers, wanting to go inside but stopping himself because it would be unbearable to stare at the empty bed, the empty desk, the unused clothes.

Some nights, he gives in. He goes inside and curls in her bed, hugging her pillow, trying to find a piece of her there. Her specific scent is starting to fade away.

One morning, Cardan opens the door to leave and bumps into Madoc. The General looks mildly disoriented for a second, his eyes searching Cardan's. Cardan starts walking and hears Madoc say 'It's difficult for me too'. They never speak of their encounter.

Cardan hates the sight of Taryn's red eyes, the pleading in them evident. What right has she to look like that when she chose Locke over her own sister, when she betrayed Jude, when she chose Locke's fickle love over her sister's steady one? The sight of her is a reminder of the twin he lost, a brighter, more vibrant version of this whimpering girl. It's revolting. Why is she safe when his Jude, his scheming, ruthless, strong Jude is lost to the sea?

Cardan spends as much time as he can with the Roach and the Bomb. They don't say much, because what is there to say? But they appreciate each other's company no matter what. Until one day, when the Roach suggests that if returned, Jude might be working for Orlagh. Who knows what they're doing to her? Cardan shudders at the thought of Jude being tortured into obedience and wants to yell at the Roach for even thinking Jude can be broken by the people holding her captive, but he doesn't have it in him to argue. He simply stands up and leaves. In his chambers, his hands are shaking and tears sting his eyes. He feels pathetic and angry at himself but at the end of the day, King or not, he's also just a boy who suffered at the hands of Balekin. If he treated his own blood like that, how is he treating Jude?

The worst part of being prisoner of the Undersea, for Jude, is Balekin. She can resist Queen Orlagh's brutality, her slaps, her sharp laughs, her desire to humiliate Jude. That she can take. What hurts is how Balekin is a constant reminder of Cardan. Of the life she had on land. Of the people she's missing with such intensity that her heart might break and break until there's nothing left in it. She hates that Balekin keeps commanding her to kiss him; how she has to pretend that it's Cardan she's kissing to keep the sickness she feels at bay. How her memories of Cardan's soft mouth are tainted with those of Balekin's cold lips. She hates how she kissed Balekin more times than she kissed Cardan.

When Cardan first receives word from Orlagh, he's ready to accept all her terms without a second of hesitation. It is his council that begs for enough time to consider other options; it is the council that suggests that maybe the life of a mortal isn't worth the price they have to pay. Cardan has never been inclined to murder anyone, but the threats that leave his mouth would make even Jude proud.

He is the High King of Elfhame and he would gladly burn his kingdom to the ground if that meant getting Jude back.

No one argues when the air around Cardan starts crackling, the smell of a storm noticeable, the room in which they stand shaking.

Madoc doesn't totally agree with Cardan's choices and he really doesn't like the boy being the High King. What he is surprised to find, however, is that he likes Cardan- not Prince Cardan, not King Cardan, simply just Cardan- way more than he likes Locke. He might be incompetent at being High King, but at least he cares for Jude way more than Locke could ever care about Taryn.

Taryn hears of Cardan's display of power and feels a pang of jealousy. What would Locke do if she was the one to disappear?

After agreeing to Orlagh's terms, Cardan can hardly sleep. What has become of Jude? What will he see when he can finally look at her again? He can't stop his mind from racing so instead he drinks and drinks and drinks until he's so drunk he can't even dream. When he wakes up, it's time to go get his Jude.

At first, Cardan can't even see her. She looks so small, so unlike herself, all her muscle gone. She's a shadow of herself, hair dull and hanging limp, skin ashy, like that of a corpse, a dress that hangs on her as if hanging on a leaf. She can't keep her back straight as she usually does, and when Cardan sees her eyes he actually takes a surprised breath. The gleam in her eyes gone, the wicked challenge erased from her gaze as if with a sponge. Wiped clean. He wants to scream at Orlagh that this is not his Jude, not his seneschal, not the mortal who schemed his coronation and fooled so many of the Folk.

Jude Jude Jude Jude, come back come back come back to me, Jude my Jude, come back he thinks, as a prayer, as if the mere power of his thoughts could heal her.

He clenches his fists, hard, to hide the shaking of his hands and to control the power that threatens to unleash itself and kill everyone in sight. He must act the role of the King.

It takes everything in him not to run to Jude when she steps on land but he must keep his mask on; cold, indifferent almost, composed.

He can't help looking after her when she is taken away, longing and sadness so evidently etched on his face, Madoc feels the need to clear his throat to remind the Kingling to hide his weaknesses. He knows what it is to fall for a mortal and the almost constant worry that comes with it. They are fragile beings. Even Jude.

[mmvalentine]

You're Home | Jurdan

Canon divergent. Scene lift from TWK. The smut I wanted but was not given...

I slip into Cardan's room. Though it is not yet dawn, I am lucky. The room is empty of revelry. No courtiers doze on the cushions or in his bed. I walk to where he sleeps and press my hand over his mouth.

He wakes, fighting against my grip. I press down hard enough that I can feel his teeth against my skin. He grabs for my throat, and for a moment, I'm scared that I'm not strong enough, that my training isn't good enough. Then his body relaxes utterly, as though realising who I am.

He shouldn't relax like that. "He sent me to kill you," I whisper against his ear.

A shiver goes through his body, and his hand goes to my waist, but instead of pushing me away, he pulls me into the bed with him, rolling my body across him onto the heavily embroidered coverlets.

My hand slips from his mouth, and I am unnerved to find myself here, in the new High King's new bed- one I am still too human to lie in, beside someone who terrifies me the more I feel for him.

"Balekin and Orlagh are planning your murder," I say, flustered.

"Yes," he says lazily. "So why did I wake up at all?"

I am awkwardly conscious of his physicality, of the moment when he was half awake and pulled me against him. "Because I am difficult to charm," I say.

That makes him give a soft laugh. He reaches out and touches my hair, traces the hollow of my cheekbone. "I could have told my brother that," he says, with a softness in his voice that I am utterly unprepared for. "Where have you been?" he asks me. I don't know how to answer.

"Madoc says you've been ill," Cardan goes on, when I say nothing. His fingers still move lightly over my face. "Must you take your convalescence so far from me?"

"I must," I say stiffly, "since you've allowed Madoc to bar me from seeing you. I have information that cannot wait."

Cardan shakes his head. "I know not of what you speak. Madoc told me you were resting and that we should let you heal."

I frown. "I see. And in the interim, Madoc would no doubt take my place as your advisor," I tell Cardan. "He gave your guards orders to keep me out of the palace."

"I will give them different orders," Cardan says.

"See that you do," I say. "Now, I need to tell you about the plans from the Undersea."

But Cardan just tugs me closer, moves the cover over me so I am under it with him. "I don't care," he says.

"You need to care," I tell him. "Your life is in danger, and we need to make a plan."

"Later," Cardan says. "We have all the time in the world for planning. There's only one thing I've learned tonight that has been worthy of note."

"And, what, pray tell, is that?" I ask him impatiently. I am all too aware that the warmth now enveloping me is Cardan's own body heat, that I'm here in the cocoon of his sleep and his breath. That he is completely naked beneath the sheets, and is not at all shy about it.

"You're home," he says simply. "You're home and that's all that matters." And then he draws me into his arms, and just holds me to him, and I am so surprised that I don't move at all for a moment.

And then my arms are moving, quite without me telling them to, to wrap around his shoulders and to hug him back. His hands stroke at my back and my fingers curl in the hair at the back of his neck. He tangles his legs in mine.

I've been so focused on plotting and scheming and keeping ahead of the enemy, that it only now occurs to me what a relief it is to actually be here, with Cardan, in the silent hours of the early morning.

My arms tighten around his neck and before I know it I'm clinging onto him for dear life, and the horror of the days and weeks I spent under water figuring out how I was going to get back to him, if I was ever going to get back to him starts streaming in from whatever small corner of my mind I had crammed it into. I start shaking in Cardan's arms, and he just smooths circles between my shoulder blades and says "Shhh, you're home now." And that gentleness just freaks me out more, and it is minutes before I can relax.

When I am finally still again, Cardan pulls back just enough to study my face.

"What's this?" he asks gently, and wipes his thumbs across my face. They come away wet, and I realise I've been crying. I'm mortified, and I start to pull away from him, but Cardan put his hands on my face and stops me.

"I'm so sorry I let you get taken," he whispers. "I'm sorry I did not keep you safe." He leans forward and kisses the tears from my face. "And I've been wanting to tell you for so long now that I'm sorry I've always been unkind to you. I realised, when you were gone, truly gone beneath the waves and I hated myself as I never have before, that I've never apologised to you for that. For any of it."

He is so unlike himself in this moment that I cannot help but look for the trick in his words. I am aware that I am just gaping at him like an idiot, but I can't for the life of me conjure coherent words to say. Cardan laughs, his bed-warmed hand going to my shoulder.

"Either I've surprised you or you are as ill as Madoc claimed. Perhaps I am foolish, but I am not a fool. You like something about me," he says, mischief lighting his face, making its planes more familiar. "The challenge? My pretty eyes? No matter, because there is more you do not like and I know it."

And although this Cardan is the Cardan I know, I feel sorry to break the moment. So I shoot back at him, "Not your eyes. It's your lips. You have a cruel but lovely mouth. That's the reason I like you."

Cardan's eyes light. "So you admit you do like me," he says. His hand strokes down my side now. "If only for my beautiful features. I suppose I cannot blame you, for I am a sight to behold."

I go to smack his arm then, but he catches my hand and links his fingers through mine.

"Still," he murmurs, face only inches from mine. "Whatever you like me for. I'll take it. And if it's my lips you like, you can have them."

And then he leans in and presses his mouth to mine.

Desire floods instantly through me, and I am shocked by the strength of it. My lips part for him, and his tongue is hot and lush against mine. And as we kiss I realise that I've missed him, so much, and his kisses are like the piles of food I devoured after starving so long.

Cardan's hands slide beneath my shirt- his own doublet, it occurs to me, stolen only hours ago from his old bedroom. They find the shape of me, and tell my skin secret things that only our bodies know. Soon I'm sliding out of the jacket, and he's tugging off my hose, and although I am very warm in Cardan's bed, I shiver under his fingers.

Yet my skin knows his touch. I am still inexperienced, but we've been here before and this time, my body knows where to expect him. Arches up to meet him as he gets there. This time, my hands know better what to do.

This time, it is both of us breathing raggedly as we spin closer and closer together.

Kissing Cardan has always felt vaguely horrifying but he's right. I just don't care anymore. I'm home, and he's here, and all that's in my mind is chasing the pleasure that he's trailing along my lips, down my throat, across my belly, and between my legs. It's a molten heat that travels wherever Cardan's silvery skin touches mine.

And now his tongue is moving under my ear as he rolls to cage me in his long limbs. His lips descend down my sternum and his teeth catch under my navel. He kisses across my hips and I think I might die from the pleasure. I reach forward and run my hands through the curls of his hair, and he makes a pleased murmuring sounds that vibrates across my skin. I'm so comfortable here that I'm utterly unprepared when he dips his head and licks his tongue between my thighs.

My hips buck off the bed and stars burst before my eyes. I gasp, and see nothing, and my fingers tighten involuntarily against Cardan's scalp. He repeats the motion, over and over and I'm too overwhelmed to be self-conscious about the moans that he's pulling from my lips. Then he slides his fingers into me and I'm dead. I'm sure I'm dead because the world has ceased to exist and I float in boundless rapture. I couldn't say how long for.

Cardan moves back up my body like a wave of heat. He settles over me and his naked cock presses against me where his tongue was moments ago, and I still can't move.

"Jude," he whispers. I don't recognise my name. "Jude." He kisses my lips and still I float. "Are you alright?" I manage to nod. Cardan slides himself against me, wet from his mouth, and asks, "Do you want me to keep going?"

It's enough to bring me back, to meet his eyes as I nod again, and now he's nudging at my entrance. My legs slide up and curl around his hips. His tail coils around my lower leg, and my hands tangle in his hair once more. I can't stop touching it, it's soft like nothing else.

And then he's sliding inside me, incredibly slowly, and the world drops away once more.

In this moment, there's only me and Cardan and the sweetest ache between us, and he's whispering my name like a mantra. "Jude," he says, letting his head drop on my shoulder. "Jude," and this time it's a moan as his fingers interlace with mine and hold them against the mattress. "Jude, Jude, Jude, Jude, Jude..."

After that I stop hearing him, because blood is rushing in my ears as his hips start to speed up, and although I feel full to breaking with him inside me, I find all I want is more and more and more.

In that moment I wonder briefly if lust and power and love and hate might all be the same thing after all.

Cardan pulls out of me, and for a second I'm empty and dismayed. Then he's rolling me onto my side, curving his body around mine and pulling my hips back toward him. All I want is to have him back inside me, and I am gratified a second later when he pushes into me from behind.

Cardan has his mouth on my neck, and his hand is pulling my top leg over his hip so he can reach my clit with his fingers. Before I know it, I'm coming undone there in the High King's bed, my fingers grabbing at nothing.

I start to scream and Cardan leans up to cover my mouth with his, kissing me over and over until he, too, is shaking and coming and gripping my hip so hard I'm sure the marks of his fingers will be there for days to come.

We lie there, curled together in the dark and for the first time I'm not at all angry at the command he has over my body.

In fact I'm not angry at anything, and I don't know when else that has ever been true. I just have this bone-deep calm, and it's never, ever been like this with Cardan. It would scare me, if I wasn't so damn calm.

Cardan wipes my legs down and then kisses the back of my neck, and seems to settle back to sleep with ease.

I lie awake for a little longer, wondering what Cardan will be like in the morning, and how we will scheme ourselves out of the Undersea danger.

But Cardan is so warm around me that I do not scheme for long.

****

Soft jurdan, for once in their lives 🥺🥺🥺 My babies.

@asteria-of-mars and @swankii-art-teacher!

JURDAN MASTERLIST

[figonas]

As Warm As The Sun-Part 2

The Light of the Moon

The scent of his skin beneath the aroma of sweet wine blurs Jude’s thoughts. She’s tempted to reach for him again, to trace her fingers along his sharp cheekbones; pale as the light from a full moon, dusted softly with incandescent, shimmering gold. 

Summary: Part 2 is Jude’s POV of the scene from Part 1. Takes place during The Wicked King pretty much right before the Queen of Mirth scene and Chapter 15. Just a soft, fluffy response to the prompt; “hug me, I command it”.

Words: 2267

Rating: GA

Links: Part 1-Cardan POV | AO3

A/N: I struggled with Jude’s POV far more than I did with Cardan’s. I think because this is a really vulnerable moment and at this point in her story like Jude isn’t prepared to be vulnerable with Cardan. Idk, this takes place a little early in twk for Jude to be admitting she has feelings for Cardan, but this is fanfic and I do what I want. @jurdanhell this one’s for you my dude.

********

Jude Duarte, former spy for Prince Dain, seneschal to the High King of Elfhame, is exhausted. If she is honest with herself, which she often isn’t, she couldn’t remember a time since Cardan was crowned where she hadn’t been tired. Nearly every day of the last five months there was always something too important going on for Jude to waste time sleeping. There was always a problem to solve, a threat against the kingdom to thwart, an attempt on her life, or Oak’s life, or Cardan’s life. What Jude really needed was a shorter list of lives she was responsible for, but for now, a good night's sleep would have to do. She was almost too tired to be angry at Cardan for having her attend this stupid revel, almost...but not quite.

Early in the night Jude was doing her best to slip away after a meeting with the Living Council, yet another one Cardan had failed to attend and Jude had fought for every word she had to say. As she rushed out of the room she nearly collided with Locke, followed closely by Cardan, Taryn, and a group of court members she didn’t recognize. Cardan’s eyes met hers and Jude knew she was in trouble the moment he got that infuriating gleam in his eye, the look that said; Oh Jude, you will absolutely hate the next words I speak. And hated them she had, Cardan launched into details about that evening’s revel which ended in him asking Jude if she would attend the revel in full that evening, his voice practically dripping with mock innocence. Before Jude could answer with a curt and resounding no, Locke chimed in and did what he was best at; started trouble. By the time he was done with his mocking explanation of why Jude’s many duties robbed all her mortal energy and didn’t allow her to attend revels like the rest of the folk, the Living Council had moved from their meeting place to gather in the hall. Jude briefly entertained a fantasy of running Locke through with Nightfell just to be done with this whole encounter, but she realized Locke’s attempt to devalue her position had garnered a substantial audience so Jude was left with no choice but to clench her jaw and bite out an acceptance of Cardan’s offer.

Now, an eternity later, Jude stands to the side of Cardan’s throne scowling at the side of his horribly beautiful face as he downed the dregs of yet another gobet. She had given up trying to count his cups hours ago but the glazed look in his eyes told Jude it is likely someone would be carrying Cardan back to his chambers this evening. She took a cursory glance around the room eyeing the dwindling guests and the King’s Guard who all made a point to look anywhere but toward the dais, and realized that someone is most likely to be her.

As if on cue, Cardan stands swaying as he attempts to step forward and nearly pitches head first off the dais.

All of Jude’s training, both in Madoc’s house and as a spy for Prince Dain, have honed her reflexes and without a second thought her hand flies out fisting in the back of Cardan’s gaudy cloak of embroidered black velvet. With all the gentleness of someone who has spent the last four hours contemplating murder Jude yanks Cardan back against her and wraps her arm around his waist to steady him.

“As much as it would amuse me to watch you fall after you made me stand here all night for no reason, I’m too tired to pick you up off the floor,” Jude hisses in his ear, she throws his other arm about her shoulders and sets off down the handful of steps leading away from the throne. Cardan leans into her, his breath ghosting across her temple; warm and sweetened by wine, Jude can’t stop the longing that shoots through her like the peeling of a bell.

“Dearest Jude, are you trying to take me to bed?” Cardan’s mouth stumbles through the words, just as his feet stumble down the steps nearly dragging them both to the floor. Jude tries to tap into her anger that seemed so palpable only moments before but she can’t think past his hip pressed against hers, his arm warm and heavy across her neck and shoulders.

“Don’t push your luck or I’ll leave you to sleep on the floor in the middle of the burgh”. He laughs, truly laughs in a way that’s free of anger or malice. Jude tries and fails to suppress the small smile that touches her lips at the happy sound she so rarely hears from him.

The walk to Cardan’s rooms takes a lifetime. They don’t speak again, but Jude can feel Cardan’s eyes on her every few moments. His proximity makes the sensation hard to ignore causing a flush to darken her cheeks. Jude tries to focus on the path ahead and clamp down her desire to return his gaze.

Once in his chambers Jude abruptly releases him and takes a half step away putting much needed distance between them, but even then he’s still too close. The scent of his skin beneath the aroma of sweet wine blurs Jude’s thoughts. She’s tempted to reach for him again, to trace her fingers along his sharp cheekbones; pale as the light from a full moon, dusted softly with incandescent, shimmering gold.

Jude, no the rational voice inside her mind nearly screams. She clenches her hands into fists, a half second from running out the massive wooden door when Cardan’s voice startles her from her thoughts.

“Embrace me again,” he says in a voice that reminds her of another drunken request he made not too long ago; kiss me again, kiss me until I am sick of it.

Jude is weary, worn down, exhausted, the kind of tired that makes limbs sore and heavy as if she’d spent the whole day throwing rocks. In that exhaustion the Cardan-shaped wall built around her heart is lowered more than Jude would ever admit; she had refused him then, she doesn’t know if she can refuse him now.

“Go to bed Cardan” it’s as much of a refusal as she can muster with his eyes boring into hers, black and wanting. Her hand flicks out to point across the suite to Cardan’s ridiculously large bed.

“But I am your king, Jude I command it,” he grins like he’s gone mad but Cardan, who is less a living being than a fae revel given flesh and bone, looks horribly and unmistakably sad. It’s gone in a moment, replaced by feigned indifference so sharp it almost burns in his coal black eyes. But she had seen it there; a glimpse of the depth of his loneliness and misery.

“So I say again, embrace me and then I will concede and go to bed,” his tone is teasing, it does nothing to fool Jude.

She opens her mouth to speak but quickly shuts it. The feeling of slick, slimy guilt roils in her belly, guilt she often pushed aside in favor of anger and self-preservation. Cardan’s pain was not all her doing, she knew of his scars, on his skin and his soul, wrought from Baelkin’s hateful hands and the cruel indifference of Eldred.

But his position as High King, his empty life beneath a hollow crown was one she had thrust upon him through lies and deceit. Facing the truth of that in his eyes made bile crawl it’s way up her throat, and if Jude was honest with herself it shattered her heart into shards of broken glass threatening to shred her apart from the inside.

Guilt was not easy to feel, it was the feeling of admitting you had done wrong paired with the admission that you haven’t yet made it right. Jude had choked on guilt before but usually pushed it away, citing the safety of Oak and the stability of Elfhame; but those excuses fall apart like strips of wet paper when pit against the emptiness in Cardan’s gaze.

Jude curses herself, wishing for the days when she felt nothing but hatred for the High King, instead of the complicated mix of regret, shame, and desire she feels now. Swallowing thickly against her guilt, and before she can examine her own want too closely, Jude steps forward and wraps her arms around him, resting her cheek against his shoulder.

Cardan hesitates for a brief moment, before returning her embrace. Jude resists the urge to sink into his warmth, stops herself from tightening her arms and nuzzling her face into his neck; it’s power over her she won’t relinquish to him and an admission to herself she isn’t ready to face.

More than anything this moment feels fragile, as if Jude, mortal among fairies, human of the earth could break it with the snap of her fingers.

“I’m only doing this because I’m too tired to fight with you about going to bed,” she lies, to herself and to him.

Cardan doesn’t reply, simply holding her in a strong, steady embrace, his cheek resting light as a feather on her forehead. The unsteady balance brought on by Cardan’s overindulgence seems to evaporate as if, he too realizes how delicate this moment is. How easily it could shatter like a stone through glass.

She isn’t sure how much time passes as they stand there tangled up in each other, but her eyelids begin to droop as Cardan strokes lazy circles on her back with his thumbs.

In serious danger of dozing off Jude yawns deeply and steps back. Cardan’s hands bracket her waist as she pulls back and he makes no effort to remove them. The warmth of his palms seeping through her jacket keeps her heart pounding out a steady rhythm. She doesn’t know how to read into this small gesture of intimacy, if it means anything at all, so she simply ignores it.

“Alright, Your Majesty I indulged your wishes,” she stops another, smaller yawn with the back of her hand.

“Now to bed with you so I can go get in my own,” Jude points again in the direction of the vast expanse of pillows and spider silk sheets.

Cardan’s hands drop to his sides, he sways unsteadily as he turns, his drunken clumsiness returning now that the distance between them has broken whatever spell was cast over their embrace. She places a gentle hand on his lower back, when he leans into her touch Jude feels a rush of warmth as she walks him through his empty rooms.

“Careful with your orders Jude or I will tell everyone that you were kind to me,” he laughs though she can’t imagine why.

“Though I don’t think anyone would believe me,” he continues softly almost as if speaking to himself. She shakes her head though Cardan is too focused on his feet to notice. He doesn’t say the words with malice or venom but something twists in Jude’s chest all the same.

“You won’t remember this tomorrow anyway”.

She gives a gentle push as they reach his bed and Cardan flops down on the coverlet, gazing up at Jude in with something soft and yearning in his eyes. She leans over him, breath catching in her throat. The intensity of his gaze pins her to the spot.

“Oh Jude, loveliest of afflictions, I will remember this night for years to come.” He makes a move as if to reach for her, but Cardan’s hand falls back to his side as his eyes flutter closed.

“We’ll see about that tomorrow,” She makes a disbelieving noise and crosses her arms. Laughing softly as she takes in her disheveled High King.

Though Cardan’s eyes remain closed, his head turns in her direction as she laughs, as if he craves her laugh as she craves his; a moth to flame.

Jude backs away from the bed, retreating to the suites main door, but something stops her as she places a hand on the knob. Turning to peer over her shoulder she calls out softly through the dark chamber.

“Goodnight Cardan,” without waiting for his response she slips into the hall and flees toward her room.

By the time she reaches her chambers Jude is dead on her feet and desperate for the feel of her pillow against her cheek.

She strips off her weapons and clothes, tucking herself into bed instead of curling up in front of the fire as she most often does. It’s cold but the sheets and pillows are soft, as she relaxes into them. Sleep hovers nearby waiting to take her the moment she closes her eyes, but Jude stares up toward the ceiling keeping herself awake for a few more blissful moments.

Jude Duarte has made herself into a fearsome creature, one of the folk in spirit if nothing else. Tomorrow she will go back to her role as the High King’s seneschal, back to her knives, and seething looks, and harsh clothes. But tonight she will allow herself one small, indulgent moment of weakness and be simply; Jude Duarte, mortal girl.

Tonight she lies in bed and thinks of Cardan’s soft breath on her cheek, the stroke of this thumb on her back, the moonlight glow of his skin in the dimness of his chambers.

Jude isn’t sure exactly when she drifted off but her dreams are filled with yearning black eyes and strong steady arms. When she wakes she smiles to herself, wide and foolish, before donning the mask of seneschal once again.

[anonniemousefics]

Can we please get more tfota scenes from cardan's pov? Maybe something from qon this time 🙈

Happy New Year! ♥️🥂

It’s so great you guys are enjoying these Cardan POV pieces! This one sort of follows His Monstrous Bride and this other little continuation -- it’s taken from Chapter 18 of The Queen of Nothing when Jude and Cardan talk about her exile before meeting with the Living Council. 

I don’t have a title for it -- let’s just call it His Monstrous Bride Part II. lol

(Also a shameless plug for my ongoing fic The Nine Terrifying Moons, which will feature a Cardan POV chapter coming soon. Wheeeee!)

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Cardan is well versed at hiding his emotions, but it doesn’t hurt to look the part. And the day that his High Queen is finally awakening, once again restored to Elfhame, is a day to dress for a very specific kind of battle. Jude has ignored him for months – now he must be unignorable. He has gold along his cheekbones and caps like gold knives at the tips of his ears. Jude likes knives after all.

He’s flanked by his guards at her door. (Their door? He’s unused to sharing.) The Living Council means to interrupt her convalescence, and he’ll have none of it. He’s there to make sure she is fit and ready, and he doesn’t have to do more than that, he tells himself. His envoy is at his sides at all times now, and still, in this moment, some part of him wishes there were more of them. Wishes he could shrink back from what may lie ahead.

“Your Highness?” His guards are waiting for him to do something. He hadn’t realized how long he’d been hesitating.

It’s just… it’s been months of endless rejection, though he knows now she never received his letters, but still…he’s not sure he can take one more. And his heart is still cracked and raw from her most recent brush with death.

He steels himself. And knocks at the door.

It’s Oak who answers with an innocent smile, which is something of a relief. With Oak around, Jude’s less likely to become stabby.

Although, at least if she’s stabbing him, she’s no longer ignoring him. And Cardan really can’t stand one more minute of being ignored by Jude Duarte.

She’s there now, and the sight of her standing catches him right in the chest. The last time he’d clapped eyes on her, she was bleeding all over his spider-silk sheets. He’d cleaned her blood with his own two hands, but now she’s upright and clear-eyed, dressed in a foreboding black number with silver at her collar and cuffs. Her auburn hair has been braided like a crown, and with smoky traces of rose around her eyes, she looks deadly and formidable once more.

It’s such a welcome sight. He has never been so thrilled to see her. And that’s such a treacherous and terrifying notion, since he thinks it’s very likely she’s might smack him in the near future if he can’t navigate the mess of crossed wires between them.

The thrill lasts only a moment, because then his stomach gives a lurch. He’s just realized that all of her sisters are there, too. And they’re all staring at him. And he’s been staring right back.

Suddenly, Cardan’s on the verge of breaking into a cold sweat.

“Walk with me,” he finally tells Jude, eager to get away from so many Duarte eyes.

“Of course.” Jude’s brown eyes in particular seem uncharacteristically wide and confused.

Vivienne catches Jude’s hand before she can join him.

“You’re not well enough,” she objects. As if Cardan can’t take care of her. As if he hadn’t cleaned up her blood himself.

“The Living Council is eager to speak with her,” he says instead. Jude should be proud of how he’s learned to curb his tongue in her absence.

“The only danger anyone has ever been in at a Council meeting is of being bored to death,” Jude is reassuring her family, before stepping away, the guards folding in around them.

Cardan offers her his arm – he wants to keep her close, and he wants Vivienne to take note. It is different now, and he wants them all to see. Jude is cared for here.

He wants to take his time with her at his arm as they swap neutral business about the Roach, about the Bomb, about Madoc, but he can hardly even look at her. His head is full of visions of those nights he wrote to her again and again, outright begging in the end, and then lying awake, alone, certain his agony would be never-ending. Gods above, he’d even written once that his heart was hers, buried with her in the soil of the mortal world -- and she’d sent no reply. And though he knows now it’s because she hadn’t even received it, he’s still completely unsure of how to act.

It’s extremely unsettling how normal Jude seems in this moment. As if no time has passed at all.

And there are still so many eyes on them. Courtiers bobbing their heads as they pass. The guards just an arm’s length away. This is no place to try to sort through what he had written to her, what she needed to know. So maybe he just won’t, he thinks. Maybe it can just be like this for an eternity and he can go back to drinking away his feelings after this Council meeting. Maybe this is the most he should hope for.

But then, Jude says: “I need to talk to you.”

And his heart plummets to his guts. He’s not sure he can keep the dread off his face.

“It won’t take long,” Jude says, which is maybe worse. It means it’s simple: she wants to end their marriage. She wants to return to the mortal world. Of course she does.

But then, she says: “Whatever your scheme is, whatever you are planning to hold over me, you might as well tell me now, before we’re in front of the whole Council. Make your threats. Do your worst.”  

What? What the bleeding skies is she talking about? This is such a mess he’s made. And it is, perhaps, the first mess he’s ever truly cared to clean up.

Cardan turns them away toward a corridor to the outdoors.

“Yes,” he agrees. “We do need to talk.”

He steers them for the royal rose garden, where he knows the guards will stop at the gate and leave them alone. He has only a few steps down a path of shimmering quartz stairs among the roses to decide exactly what parts of his heart he’s willing to reveal today. What exactly won’t hurt so terribly much should she throw it all back in his face.

“I assume you weren’t actually trying to shoot me,” he says, choosing first the obvious and easiest. “Since the note was in your handwriting.”

“Madoc sent the Ghost--” Jude starts, but then stops. Softens. “I thought that there was going to be an attempt on your life.”

This does not mean that she cares for you, he has to remind himself. He still doesn’t want to look at her. The memory of perceived rejection is still too strong, still too bitter.

But he’s not going to live with the regrets he’d drowned in when she’d nearly died. He tries to choose his next words carefully.

“It was terrifying,” he admits, feigning interest in a nearby bush of jet black roses, “watching you fall. I mean, you’re generally terrifying, but I am unused to fearing for you.” He swallows back the memories, threatening the periphery of his mind. “And then I was furious. I am not sure I have ever been that angry before.”  

“Mortals are fragile,” Jude shrugs him off. She doesn’t get it.

“Not you,” he sighs. “You never break.”

There. Can that be enough? He’s made it fairly obvious now, hasn’t he? Surely she gets it now – he doesn’t want her to die, he doesn’t want to see her hurt. Witnessing it was the worst thing he’s ever seen. Because he cares for her.

If he has to spell it out, it might kill him. So, he just waits for what she has to say to that.

Jude’s looking at the roses, too, when he glances at her, her thick lashes lowered.

“When I came here, pretending to be Taryn, you said you’d sent me messages,” she says, and oh, please, gods, not this. “You seemed surprised I hadn’t gotten any. What was in them?”

Cardan wants to vomit. No, he needs to vomit. If his nervous stomach would cooperate and vomit everywhere, he could still get away from this with a shred of dignity.

He clasps his hands behind his back so she can’t see how they shake, his smile telling the lies that the rest of him can’t. That he is cool and unaffected, not at all hopelessly in love with the mortal girl in front of him.

“Pleading, mostly.” He tries to say it like it’s a joke. “Beseeching you to come back. Several indiscreet promises.” Maybe that little bit of tantalizing will flatter her.

It doesn’t. Actually, he’s not sure Jude can be flattered. She closes her eyes shut in no small amount of frustration.

“Stop playing games,” she growls. “You sent me into exile.”

“Yes. That.” Right, of course she doesn’t love that he’s beating around the bush. If only he could help it. He’s so goddamn nervous. “I can’t stop thinking about what you said to me, before Madoc took you. About it being a trick. You meant marrying you, making you queen, sending you to the mortal world, all of it, didn’t you?”

The glare she throws him is so very Jude, though he loves it less when it’s directed at him.

“Of course it was a trick,” she seethes. “Wasn’t that what you said in return?”

Well, this is rich.

“But that’s what you do. You trick people.” Though Cardan’s starting to realize just how wrong he’s been about the things Jude enjoys. “I thought you’d admire me a little for it, that I could trick you. I thought you’d be angry, of course, but not quite like this.”

“What?” Jude looks like she could unhinge her jaw and swallow him whole. He might even deserve it.

He needs to put an end to this nightmare. There’s still a miniscule chance she’ll find some part of it amusing.

“Let me remind you that I didn’t know you’d murdered my brother, the ambassador to the Undersea, until that very morning,” he points out. Surely, the context will help his case. “My plans were made in haste. And perhaps I was a little annoyed. I thought it would pacify Queen Orlagh, at least until all promises were finalized in the treaty. By the time you guessed the answer, the negotiations would be over.”

But Jude’s face is unchanged. He isn’t seriously this good at trickery, is he?

“Think of it,” he presses, hoping she’ll follow along. “I exile Jude Duarte to the mortal world. Until and unless she is pardoned by the crown.” Any minute now. Any minute.

“Pardoned by the crown,” he repeats to her blank stare. Right, so, this game isn’t funny anymore.

“Meaning by the King of Faerie. Or its queen,” he explains, watching her eyes grow wider, wilder. “You could have returned anytime you wanted.”

When he’d first envisioned her figuring out the riddle, he’d expected probably a punch in the arm, maybe she would have even drawn her blade again. That would have been delightful. He’d thought about trembling beneath her again, about that searing look she got in her eye just before devouring his lips. That would have been – gods. He might have considered letting her murder more of his brothers to have that again.

But what is happening now is decidedly the opposite. Jude’s breath is quickening, her face flushing, and in the air between them, Cardan feels a rift cracking wider. He hasn’t played a trick – he’s done something horrible.

When Jude begins to back away from him, he thinks back to what it felt like to find Nicasia with Locke. What Jude’s face is doing now – that is what his heart had done then. She is recoiling from him. Jude Duarte is recoiling from him, because he has hurt her.

He honestly had not thought it was possible. He honestly had not thought himself capable. He honestly had not thought she cared enough.

She whirls then and marches away from him, and he has never hated himself more. Stop her, he thinks, but he’s still stunned. If he’d known she cared…

Stop her!

He runs after her. She has to know he wouldn’t have done it if he’d known. She has to know he will fight to keep her now that he knows. But when he seizes her arm, she hauls around and slaps him, hard enough to turn his face.

It’s not the worst hit he’s taken, not by a long shot, but its sting is entirely different. There’s something fiery in her eyes, and, for the first time, he’s aware that he is not the only one who has been in agony these long months. Oh, he would undo it all now if he could. He would pull her in and kiss her over and over until they both stopped hurting.

Except she still looks murderous. Getting close to her face is probably not a good idea if he doesn’t want to be bitten. (He does kind of want to be bitten, just…in a very different scenario.)

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says, carefully, and his hand finds hers. To his great surprise, she lets their fingers lace together, and his heart seizes with a wild hope. It does not mean she loves you, he thinks. He fumbles. “No, it’s not that, not exactly. I didn’t think I could hurt you. And I never thought you would be afraid of me.”

“And did you like it?” Jude asks, narrowing her eyes.

His cheek is hot from the slap of her hand, and now with shame. Because how is he supposed to answer that? He didn’t hate being more powerful for once. He didn’t hate being the one with the answer to the riddle.

“Well, I was hurt.” He’s hesitated too long, and now Jude’s pressing on. “And yes, you scare me.”

Cardan finds himself taking in her full face then, the one that has always seemed so defiant and fearless and headstrong.

“You’ve always scared me,” Jude is saying, and this is what almost undoes him. She repeats it, telling him again and again each moment she had been afraid of him, and with each one, his mind bursts a little more. This doesn’t seem real. “And I am scared of you now,” she concludes, that defiant gleam in her eye til the end.

Cardan is speechless. And Cardan’s never speechless.

There was a time when he enjoyed playing a villain in her heroic story line, but she wasn’t supposed to be truly afraid of him. She was supposed to vanquish him and make him beg for her kindness. (And he would now. He really would.)

(Maybe he will.)

“You despised me,” Jude reminds him, because he does need reminding. He’s not sure now if he ever really did. “When you said you wanted me, it felt like the world had turned upside down. But sending me into exile, that made sense. That was an entirely right-side-up Cardan move. And I hated myself for not seeing it coming. And I hate myself for not seeing what you’re going to do to me next.”

At that, Cardan closes his eyes. Hopelessness is threatening to overtake him. Fear has created this monster before him, the one who irrevocably holds his heart. Is it possible to unmake such a curse? He’s certainly been unable to find a cure for his own fear, lifelong coward that he is.

When she’d first returned and his heart was freshly cracked, he’d thought back to a fairy story about a boy cursed with a heart of stone and the monster he took as his bride. It had been patience and fearlessness that had won over the monster in the end – something the boy had managed only because of his stony heart.

So, Cardan thinks of stones then. Of pulling together all his cracked and raw edges. Of being impenetrable and solid and fearless. He thinks of doing what needs to be done. He needs her, for so many things, and she must know that. Perhaps it is folly to wish for anything more than simply averting a crisis.

But he can’t manage it if he’s looking at her. He releases her hand and turns away.

“I can see why you thought what you did,” he says at last. “I suppose I am not an easy person to trust. And maybe I ought not to be trusted, but let me say this: I trust you.”

Patience. Fearlessness. Deep breath.

“You may recall that I did not want to be High King. And that you did not consult me before plopping this crown on my head. You may further recollect that Balekin didn’t want me to keep the title and that the Living Council never took a real shine to me.

“There was a prophecy given when I was born. Usually Baphen is uselessly vague, but in this case, he made it clear that should I rule, I would make a very poor king.” It hurts more than he thought it would to say it out loud. “The destruction of the crown, the ruination of the throne – a lot of dramatic language.”

He has to be cavalier about it; it stings too much otherwise. It’s been the bane of his existence, this prophecy. It is the reason his entire childhood was filled with nothing but dismissal and cruelty. It’s the very, very low standard he’s spent his whole life trying not to meet. The best his family had ever hoped for from him was his complete and utter disappearance – and he’d failed to do even that.

He turns back to Jude. Patience. Fearlessness. He has so much more to say. He has so much more he wants to be than this. Deep breath.

“When you forced me into working for the Court of Shadows, I never thought of the things I could do – frightening people, charming people – as talents, no less ones that might be valuable. But you did. You showed me how to use them to be useful. I never minded being a minor villain, but it’s possible I might have grown into something else, a High King as monstrous as Dain. And if I did – if I fulfilled that prophecy, I ought to be stopped. And I believe that you would stop me.”

Jude sputters at that, blinking hard.

“Stop you?” she echoes. “Sure. If you’re a huge jerk and a threat to Elfhame, I’ll pop your head right off.”

“Good.” And he means it. To die by Jude’s hand would be a dream. “That’s one reason I didn’t want to believe you’d joined up with Madoc. The other is that I want you here by my side,” and just for good measure, just in case she still isn’t getting it: “As my queen.”

But he can’t read the expression on Jude’s face when he says it – if it brings her joy, if it brings her more distress. He’s not sure what else he could have said to make it any more clear. And now her silence is threatening to eat him alive. This reeks of the beginnings of yet another rejection.

He smiles at her, instinctively, a last ditch effort to make this even slightly less awkward.

“But now that you’re High Queen and back in charge, I won’t be doing anything of consequence anyway,” he promises. “If I destroy the crown and ruin the throne, it will only be through neglect.”

He wants her to smile back. To roll her eyes at him and act like she isn’t amused when she so clearly is. He’s missed that, oh, how he’s missed that.

He gets all that and more when she blurts out a laugh.

“So that’s your excuse for not doing any of the work?” She quirks an eyebrow, and it makes his heart swell. They’re smiling together again. He’d needed that, too, more than he’d realized. “You must be draped in decadence at all times because if you aren’t kept busy, you might fulfill some half-baked prophecy.”

“Exactly,” he says. Exactly… It’s more true than he wants it to be. His smile fades. And Jude is looking more tired than he’s comfortable with. He hopes he has not pushed her too hard. He touches her arm, gently, not thinking. Her gaze catches his, soft and warm. He finds himself leaning in…

“Would you like me to inform the Council that you will see them another time?” he asks. “It will be a novelty to have me make your excuses.”

But Jude is stalwart and determined as ever. He expected nothing less.

He pulls back. She does not need him. Not like he needs her.

“No, I’m ready,” she says.

How he wishes he could say the same.

-----------

Tagging: @yellowavocadopit, @dagypsygirl, @ireallyshouldsleeprn, @booklover-sleeplover, @mwejh, @courtofjurdan, @faeriequeenofwest, @sugawsites, @loveyourselfsolid, @owl0y0s, @feelinglikecleopatra, @akaloto, @charrise, @persephxnecoven, @raging-bisexual-alert, @rteme, @nahthanks, @addies-invisible-life, @elorcanislife, @snusbandxknifewife, @poeticbrownmermaid, @duarteegreenbriar, @thefolkofthefic, @alittledribbledrabble, @carmensworld17, @annejulianneh111, @amandlas, @elriel4life, @idk-what-name-to-use, @thewickedkings, @juliazato, @woodsbeyond1, @booksmusicandgoodvibes, 

[wylanvnneck]

This 2 part fic was written for the Secret Snusband Gift Giveaway hosted by @jurdannet​ and @jurdannetrevels​ for my lovely Knife Wife @lilacs-with-lavender​.

Rating: T for Tyrannosaurus

Summary: Inspired by an episode of my favourite Cop TV show, ‘Castle’, in which a bet takes place with pretty high stakes, although the plotline has been tweaked to fit this fandom. My Knife Wife said she loved the Enemies to Lovers trope so that’s what I’ve (tried to) write here and I hope you enjoy the story of Homicide Detectives Jude Duarte and Cardan Greenbriar and their mutual enmity.

Warnings: Not so graphic descriptions of murder and mention of drugs. (Really not sure what I need to tag, so please let me know if I’ve missed something.)

Posted as a Gift on AO3 | Part 2 | Masterlist

Part 1

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“Victim’s name is Taryn Santorini, a metal sculptor by trade, she was found by her doorman fifteen minutes before we traced the address in Chloe’s hand back to her.” 

Detective Jude Duarte looks down at the motionless face of a scared looking brunette, a crimson splatter painting the tiled floor around her lifeless body. The room around her is a mess, clothes scattered everywhere, bed ruffled and unmade and metal figurines placed haphazardly throughout the little apartment.

“Lil, talk to me, what are we looking at?”

Before the white-blonde haired medical examiner crouched on the floor by the body can answer, a smooth dark voice that Jude so detests cuts through the air behind her.

“Why, Duarte, I’d say that the fact that Tara What’s-her-name was shot and killed is rather obvious.” The despicable excuse of a detective steps forward, a smug grin pasted to his face. Cardan Greenbriar, entitled little rich boy, over-confident bastard and sadly, her partner.

Patience, Jude reminds herself, patience was a virtue. 

“I meant, as I’m sure Lil knows, with what model was she killed and when?”

Liliver shoots her an amused sympathetic look before turning her gaze back to the victim.

“Looks to be a gun with a 45 caliber, same as the one used to kill Chloe Tatterfell. I’d say Taryn here has been dead for about 12 hours so pretty close to Chloe’s time of death, maybe just a half hour or so afterwards.”

“So chances are it’s the same killer.” Cardan interjects, the smug smile a little less vibrant now. 

“Yep. I’ll have to get her back to the morgue so  I can do a full inspection, see if I can find anything helpful.”

Jude steps back from the crime scene to give her some space, almost bumping in to the officer taking pictures of the area for later use. 

“Thanks, Lil.”

“Just doing my job, sweetie.”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Jude clips a glossy picture of their latest victim onto the precinct’s murder board. “Garrett and Van questioned practically all known associates of both Chloe and Taryn and none of them could recognise the other victim. There’s no obvious connection between the two and yet, for some reason they were both killed on the same day, by the same person.”

“And with the same gun.” Cardan is leaning back in his chair, his posture insouciant and his curly black hair falling lazily over his forehead. Surely that was a violation of precinct dress codes? Not that he’d care either way, rule breaker that he was. God knew it was only because of his daddy’s clout that he’d even graduated from the academy in the first place, whilst people like Jude had to work hard and save every penny and fight to get anywhere in the field of Law Enforcement.

“Ok, I’m going to head to the morgue whilst Van and Gare check through the victim’s phones and financials, see if Lil has anything for us.”

“I suppose, being the dutiful partner that I am, I should come with you?” Cardan’s drawl is as irritating as usual and Jude can hardly wait to get out of the proximity of his stupid raven locks and smoldering eyes.

“Please, you’d be doing us both a favour if you didn’t.”

“Aw, come now Jude you know you’d miss me.” He lets out a dramatic sigh as he half heartedly stands from his chair to join her as she speeds by towards the exit and she just barely resists the urge to throttle him.

Lil bustles around her examining room as she adjusts the fluorescent lamps shining down on both the victim’s bodies’. 

“So, apart from the type of bullets that killed them, the only similarity that I could find between the two victims is the fact that they both have tattoos.”

Jude raises a brow. “Everyone has tattoos.”

From across the autopsy table Cardan’s eyes gleam as he smirks. 

“Oh really? You got some ink on you, Duarte?” 

His tone is disbelieving and Jude can’t resist messing with him a little.

She pastes an obviously fake flirtatious smile on her face and drawls in a sugar sweet voice, “Guess you’d have to find that out on your own, Greenbriar.” 

She bites at her lip for good measure and thinks once more of how bad she would be at flirting in earnest. Lil certainly couldn’t keep the laughter out of her gray eyes. Cardan, however, has a strange look on his face, one that Jude can’t quite decipher, but she’s pretty sure she’s just one-upped him and she can’t deny the slight sense of triumph that the thought gives her.

 She turns her attention back to the victims. “You were saying, Lil?” 

“I’m saying that these tattoos seem to have been done by the same artist. Look,” she pulls back the white cloth covering the body of Chloe Tatterfell, gently pushing a strand of brown hair off of her shoulder to reveal the cartoonish character of a rose, inked in with dark black ink.

She then turns to Taryn’s body to reveal a similarly styled tattoo of a mermaid on her wrist. Just as she’s pulling back the cover Jude’s back pocket vibrates and the sound of her plain ringtone travels through the air. Quickly she swipes upwards to answer the call and it’s Garrett.

“Yo, so we looked through the victims’ phone records and found a connection. Both Chloe and Taryn made a phone call on the day that they were killed to the same number, belonging to a Locke McCutchins, he’s got priors including robberies and domestic assault.”

By the time he’s finished speaking she’s already waved a quick goodbye to Lil and turned to walk out the door, not bothering to check if her partner was behind her.

“Alright, text me his address, let’s go pick him up.”

“Locke McCutchins, open up, it’s the NYPD!” Garrett bangs on the door and the force is so strong that the wood vibrates as Jude clutches her pistol in her hand, body flat against the wall of Locke’s apartment with Cardan right beside her.

There’s no answer and the door is broken down as she, Cardan, Garrett and Van file into the room in a practiced motion that’s as familiar to her as breathing.

Right in front of them, sprawled across his couch, lies the dead body of Locke McCutchin, his tawny eyes still open and gazing unseeingly up at his ceiling, a dried red patch visible on his shirt.

Garret drops to the floor beside the couch, his sandy hair falling over his face as he leans over to check Locke’s pulse whilst the rest of them look on after having taken note that the apartment was clear.

“Body’s cold, he’s been dead for hours, entry wound looks to be about the same size as the other victims.”

Jude scrunches her eyebrows as she stands in front of the murderboard for the second time that day.

“So, Chloe Tatterfell, Taryn Santorini and Locke McCuchins were all killed within the span of 24 hours, all with the same gun, presumably by the same killer and yet so far the only connections we’ve found are Taryn’s address that was found written on Chloe’s hand, the phone call from both women to Locke and the similar tattoos on both Chloe and Taryn, but not on Locke.”

“Hmm.” Cardan seems to materialise out of nowhere, carrying a paper cup of what smells like freshly brewed coffee. Jude was convinced that he took his coffee with added alcohol but she had yet to prove it.

“What’s with the glare?” he asks.

“It automatically deploys itself when you're around.”

He scoffs. Twirls his coffee around. Takes a long, slurping sip.

“Hey, Duarte? Don’t get me wrong, I mean, the feeling is mutual, but what exactly is it that makes you despise me so much? I’d like to know so I can make sure to keep doing it.” 

Jude barely deliberates over her answer before she responds. 

“Being an overly cocky, obnoxious jerk who has only managed to get this far thanks to his Daddy’s fat purse will definitely be the best way to make me hate you, trust me.”

He grins but there’s no humour in the curve of his sensual lips, his eyes are cold metal.

“You think that the only reason I’m a detective is because of my father?”

“Yup.” She makes sure to add plenty of emphasis to that one word.

Cardan opens his mouth as if to speak, stops, presses his lips together so hard that they turn pale before the colour returns to them when a slow smile spreads across his face, this time full of humour, but the decidedly darker kind.

“Let’s make a bet. If you can figure out what the connection between our three victims is before I do, I’ll go right up to Captain Madoc myself and request a change of partners so you can be rid of my ‘overly cocky, obnoxious’ self. Deal?” 

He was extending a challenge and Jude was never one to back down from those. Besides, the chance to be rid of him with no cost to herself or her reputation was too good to pass up on. Still, there had to be a catch, with Cardan, there was always a catch.

“And on the complete off-chance that you figure it out first? What happens then?”

“If I figure it out first...you have to come with me as my date to this party that my dad’s having in a couple days.”

Those last few words come out in a rush and Jude has to take a moment to decipher their meaning. Followed by another moment to wonder if she’d somehow completely misunderstood what he’d said.

“You want me to what?”

“Be my date to a party. Honestly Duarte, do you have any idea how many women would jump at this opportunity?” His tone is disgustingly nonchalant. 

“I-” she struggles to find the words. “Take one of them then! Don’t you have a girlfriend, Nicasia or something like that? Blue hair and eyes? High pitched voice? Talks a lot about how much she gets seasick?”

“You know, for someone who’s only met Nicasia once you do remember quite a bit about her.” His steady gaze on her is intense.

For some incorrigible reason Jude has to resist the urge to flush.

“I’m a detective. It’s my job to study people.”

“Right. Sadly, Nicasia and I are no longer together, if we ever were. I got bored. Hence, why I need a date.”

“I’m sure you could just take one of your scores of female admirers, you don’t need me.”

“Is that jealousy that I detect in your voice?”

“Cardan.” 

“Look, the point is, I can’t be bothered having to deal with yet another simpering female who thinks that one night on my arm means a promise to a life-long relationship complete with marriage, a fancy mansion and exactly 2.5 kids. All I want is a companion for one night so I don’t get hounded by my mother for not having a girlfriend by which she can procure some grandchildren.”

“Oh so now you want me to be your fake girlfriend?”

He rolls his eyes up at the ceiling and she fights the urge to slap him. 

“It’s just for one night! Besides, I thought me winning was barely even a possibility to you.”

She makes a noise at the back of her throat. “It is.”

“Then I don’t see what the problem is. Do we have a deal, or not?” He holds out his hand, sculpted eyebrows raised in confrontation.

She doesn’t really think he has much of a chance of figuring it out before her, but he had admittedly also proven adept at figuring certain things out in previous cases so there was definitely no certainty that he wouldn’t win, for all her bravado. Yet, her competitive nature couldn’t bear the thought of surrendering, so she pushes her unease aside and grips his hand in a firm shake. 

“Deal.” 

There’s an awkward moment when he takes a little too long to release her hand from his grip. Once he finally does, the rather pointy tips of his ears reddening, they both turn back to the murder board and the view of their murder time line and crime scene pictures, furiously trying to connect the dots in their heads.

A random thought intrudes in her brain.

"Wait, what if Garrett and Van figure it out before we do?”

As one, she and Cardan both turn towards the opposite side of the office where the two officers in question sat in front of their computers.

Van was typing in data on his computer, eyes glazing over and the tuft of black hair atop his head trembling whilst Garrett, or, The Ghost - as he was sometimes called thanks to his tendency to take months before answering non-work related messages - stood eating glazed donuts with one hand and speaking to someone on the phone held in the other. Jude loved the both of them but she had to admit that they didn’t exactly paint the most inspiring picture. 

Once again she and Cardan are in sync when they promptly turn back towards the murderboard and proclaim, “Nah.”

Van’s excitement is clearly written on his face when he walks straight up to Jude’s desk the moment she arrives at the precinct the next morning, slamming down a manila folder with the NYPD crest printed on it onto her neatly arranged table top.

Immediately she reaches out to open it, desperate for a break in the case that would not only put a three time killer behind bars but also ensure that she herelf wouldn’t commit murder if she lost the bet and had to pretend to be Cardan’s girlfriend for a night. The thought makes her want to shudder.

“So, I was looking into all of our victim’s financials and I noticed an anomaly. Two weeks ago on the 7th they each deposited 95 hundred dollars into their savings accounts, but we’ve got no way of tracing the money back because the amount is under the IRS’s investigative limit” Van takes a quick pause before continuing, “but that’s not all, both Taryn and Chloe have credit card charges for small amounts at a tattoo place called Fair Folk Inks down in Queens.”

“Great, that’d be the place where they both got tattoos, I’ll go down there and ask the owner a couple questions, thanks Van.” She puts the sheaf of financial accounts back into the folder and takes a quick swig of her usual morning coffee, black, no sugar before preparing to head out once more.  

“Going somewhere, partner?” 

She’d bumped straight into Cardan when stepping into the elevator and she lets out a small groan of frustration as she steps back from his sturdy form. He looks annoyingly chipper, usual cocky smile in place and laughter in his tone as he looks down at her slightly shorter self. His cologne is strong and emanates the scent of the woods and sunlight in the small elevator. The woods and sunlight? Clearly foregoing the rest of her morning coffee hadn’t been a good idea.

She’d thought she could make it out of the building before he finally arrived, necessitating in having to take him along as well, but clearly fate had other ideas. 

“Tattoo parlour. Queens,” she grits out.

“Let’s go then,” his tone is sickly sweet.

“Hi there, you guys lookin’ to get inked?” asks the pink haired girl behind the counter in fishnet tights and a tank top, looking up from where she is perched on a stool behind the counter when she hears them enter.

The parlour itself is shiny and white, the smooth metal counter and two spaced out black leather tattoo chairs complete with wheeled stools are the only pieces of furniture in the small space. Mounted on the walls are designs, each of them evoking a sense of fantasy. A pixie there, a selkie here, an ornate dragon, all staring right back at Jude as she takes in their surroundings. She takes note of the fact that the pictures staring back at her were very reminiscent of Chloe and Taryn’s tattoos, solidifying her suspicion that this was where they had got them done.

Before she has time to explain the reason for their visit, Cardan pipes up.

“You know, I’ve been thinking of getting one of a slithering snake, maybe across my back? I believe it would add to my already abundant sex appea-”

“Actually,” Jude cuts him off with her most scathing glare, to which he irritatingly responds with a grin. “We’re here on official business, NYPD, we need to speak with the owner of this establishment.” She holds up the badge that she’s just extracted from her plain black wallet as she speaks.

“That would be Vivi, hang tight a sec I’ll go get her.” With a sway of her hips Heather trounces off behind a curtained section at the back of the parlour. 

Unable to stand still for even a few moments, her partner has already wandered over to the corner of the room, pointing at a pinned up design, ““That goblin over there reminds me of Van.”

She ignores him. 

“Oh come on Duarte, you have to admit, there’s a definite resemblance.”

She spares the quickest of glances at the design and it’s true, there’s a striking similarity, but she isn’t about to give him the satisfaction of agreeing so she simply makes a non-committal grunt of recognition.

“Tell me, are you always this tightly wound or is it just for the majority of your day?”

“Excuse me?” Her eyebrows have inadvertently traveled upwards on her face and she can’t believe he has the audacity to say what he just did, although really, she shouldn’t be so surprised.

“Come on Duarte, we’ve been partners for quite a while now and I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you laugh.” He’s standing a few feet away from her, his expression serious, not backing down.

“It’s called being professional.” She can feel the muscles working in her face as she hisses out the words through gritted teeth, blood pounding furiously. 

“Ahem.” She whirls around to find a tall bronze haired woman with striking cat-like eyes that were currently meeting her gaze wearing a lazy look of amusement.  

“Heather said there were some policemen who wanted to ask me some questions?”

Jude cannot believe that she had just gotten so sidetracked by her insolent partner that she’d forgotten why she was currently standing in the middle of a Tattoo parlour in Queens, clutching a set of regular sized close ups of three now dead people. She tamps down the irritation at her own actions as she thrusts out the photos in front of the woman facing her, Vivi, the pink haired girl had said.

“Yes, ma’am, do you recognize these people?”

She watches intently as Vivi carefully peruses the pictures before answering, “I know the two girls, Taryn and Chloe, we’re friends, I’ve even tattooed the both of them. I’m not really sure who he is.”

“Are you sure you don’t know him? Look carefully.” Cardan is all business now, stepping up to Vivi.

“I’m sure.” Vivi’s tone is almost defiant, daring him to question her again.

“You said that you were friends with the girls, how close were you?” 

“They came into the tattoo parlour at the same time about a month ago and we started up a conversation, we exchanged numbers and would meet up for a drink from time to time.” 

“Did they ever meet up with just each other?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Can you think of any reason as to why they’d both be killed by the same person?”

“They’re...they’re dead?”

Jude had intentionally asked the question in a way that would require a reaction and she wasn’t sure that she was entirely convinced by the shocked undertone of Vivi’s voice.

 “I’m afraid so, ma’am.”

“She’s hiding something.” Once again Jude is back in front of the murderboard, furiously capping and uncapping a whiteboard marker as her mind whirls. She’s full of nervous energy, on the brink of a precipice and she wants nothing more than to be able to push herself off of it.

“Agreed.” Cardan is pacing the floor between her and the murder board and his posture indicates that he’s just as worked up as she is.

“But what I can’t understand is why she would kill two of her acquaintances plus a random vending machine operator, I mean, there’s no clear motive.” She’s barely conscious of the slight pain that tingles as she worries at her bottom lip.

Cardan halts in front of the board, takes a hard look at the scrawled timeline on it before once more resuming his brisk walk.

 “And what the hell is the connection between these three victims? They lived in opposite neighbourhoods, worked in completely different areas and fields, never seemed to have been in the same place at the same time and yet somehow they were killed by the same hand. Also, where did all that money come from?” 

His phone chooses precisely that moment to start ringing and the sound of ‘Horns’ by Bryce Fox cuts through the tension. 

“It’s Liliver,” he mouths as he swipes upwards to answer and puts the medical examiner on speaker phone.

“You got something for us Lil?’

“You bet I do. I had scraps from the victims’ clothings tested to try and find a common link. What I found were traces of bleach, acetone, sodium chloride and ammonia.”

“Drugs. They were making drugs. That would explain all the money.” Jude is burning and luminescent with victory, until Lili’s next words cut her down.

“It’s not drugs.”

“How can you tell?”

“Because of what isn’t there. If your vics were making drugs, there’d need to be a couple more ingredients. That being said, they were definitely up to something.”

She lets out a sigh of defeat. “Thanks, Lil.”

Cardan hangs up before bringing his fingers up to his temples, massaging the sides of his head as he burns a hole into the board in front of him.

Jude bites back a scream. “This is like the start of a bad joke, a teacher, a sculptor and a vending machine operator walk into a tattoo parlour…”

He scoffs, “Yeah, except we don’t really have a punchline.”

“Other than ‘they made a bunch of money and got themselves killed.’”

There’s a lull in the air and the frustration is palpable. There was so much more than just their bet at stake here, there was the need for justice for these three victims, who regardless of their crimes likely didn’t deserve what had befallen them. Besides, there was no way that they could let a ruthless killer roam the streets freely.

Suddenly, Cardan whirls around to face her, once again bringing his pacing to an abrupt stop, with a speed to rival that of the animal that was his tattoo inspiration.

“Made a bunch of money,” he repeats. 

He sounds like he’s just jumped off of the precipice. She, on the other hand, remained firmly mounted to the ground. 

“What?”

“A sculptor who works with metal, a chemist and a vending machine operator...I know what they were up to.”

Slowly, the light starts to dawn on her and her pulse speeds up. Yes, she thinks.

“Think about it, when counterfeiting money, what’s the biggest problem you face? Finding the paper,” he continues.

“And a vending machine operator would have an endless supply of one dollar billls!”

“Exactly, then the chemist would come in, using the chemicals that were found on the vic’s bodies to white wash those bills.”

“And then the sculptor would be able to fashion a set of metal plates with which to type in fake serial numbers’ so they can get larger denominations of money…”

“Right! So, plates, paper, there’s just one missing ingredient.”

Beaming smiles break out on both their faces when, in unison they reach the same conclusion. 

The 12th Precinct’s interrogation room had contained many suspects from the time it was built. Some were innocent and some were guilty, but there was no doubt in both Jude and Cardan’s minds that the feline woman currently seated across from them with her legs up on the table was one hundred percent guilty. 

“So you think you’ve figured it all out, huh?” Vivi’s drawl is deceptively flippant.

“I think so.” Jude answers calmly. “For instance, we’ve figured out that you were involved in and likely the mastermind behind a counterfeiting operation that raked in a substantial amount of money. You provided the last ingredient needed, the ink from your tattoo parlour stocks that was used to print on the bills.”

Cardan leans forward. “We’ve also surmised that you killed your partners in said operation; Taryn Santorini and Chloe Tatterfell, both of whom you met through your tattoo parlour, just like you said.”

“And our third victim, Locke McCutchins? Yeah, we know he was your cousin, once removed on your mother’s side wasn’t it? A distant enough relationship for you to not be flagged when checking his family, but close enough for you to enlist him in your scheme so you had access to vending machine bills.” Jude continues, she and Cardan having perfected the art of interrogating together ages ago, their tactics working smoothly together alongside each other. 

Vivienne sneers. “So what? You have no proof.”

“On the contrary, ma’am, we do. You neglected to hide the metal plates that you got Taryn to make for you in a place that wasn’t under a loose floorboard of your room, easily found with the aid of a search warrant.” Cardan smiles.

“You also tripped up when you stored your used gun with matching ballistics to the weapon that killed our victims in the same place as the plates.” Cardan’s smile is copied on Jude’s face.

Vivi’s skin pales and her cat’s eyes narrow into slits as she bangs the table, hard, before slouching back in the metal chair, the fight leaving her.

“Well, I suppose the jig is up, as they say,” she drawls.

Satisfied, Jude stands up and gathers the notepad and pen that she’d left on the desk and then bends over the interrogation table to meet Vivi’s gaze.

“What I can’t understand, though, is why? Why would you kill them if you’d already paid them?”

The Accused smirks. “It was all that idiot Lockes’s fault. He’d gotten himself into debt with some mob shark and needed more dough to bail his sorry self out. I wasn’t about to give it, he had his cut and that was all. But then, he threatened to go to the cops and tell them about what we did. Couldn’t let that happen, so I figured I’d kill ‘em all of. Just to be safe.”

The casual way in which she speaks of her deeds chills Jude to the bone. Wordlessly, she turns her back on yet another cold hearted murderer and exits the room with Cardan right behind her.

They come to a stop in front of the now empty murderboard, its surface shiny and white, devoid of words, but not for long. There was always a murder happening somewhere or the other, Jude had been a detective long enough to know that.

“So, now that Vivienne Insmire, tattoo artist, mastermind and ink supplier of counterfeiting operations and killer of ‘friends’ and distant male cousins is safely behind bars, I think you and I have a certain matter to settle, Duarte.”

She’d been trying hard to avoid this moment all day, pushing back thoughts of her close defeat and what its consequences would be. It seemed like now, she'd run out of time. She gulps.

“I suppose-” she almost can’t bring herself to say the words, “I suppose you won our bet, then.”

“Yup.” He’s not even trying to hide his gloating, “and you know what that means.”

The noise she emits is one that is resigned. She knows what’s coming.

“I’ll pick you up at eight tomorrow.”

“Or I could just take a ca-”

“Don’t be late, Duarte,” he calls over his shoulder as he leisurely strolls towards the precinct exit, slinging his leather jacket over his shoulder.

--------------------------------------------------------------

If you’ve made it all the way down here, congrats! Here’s a link for part 2.

Tagging the lovely people on my short but treasured TFOTA taglist; @cupcakesandkittens​ (who helped immensely during the writing of this fic and who suggested adding in the interrogation scene❤) and my very own talented Secret Snusband, @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to or taken off of my taglist💕

[frenemies-to-lovers]

More of the Story | Cardan POV Missing Scene, post-TWK

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A conversation between Nicasia and Cardan, set right after TWK. This missing scene was inspired by the moment in QoN when Nicasia tells Jude that she got more of the story out of Cardan while she was in exile.

In which Cardan calls Nicasia on her bullshit and talks about why he loves Jude.

((One shot. 2890 Words. Cardan is definitely pining a little.))

 [Read on AO3]

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Although I left the brugh and the feasting and the dancing early in the evening, I am arriving back to my chambers very late.  I spent the last few hours with The Roach and The Bomb, who are helping to bring on more spies and have also been designing a new home for the Court of Shadows. I am certain they aren’t actually in need of any assistance from me other than my gold, but I need something other than court politics to fill my time.  It’s been weeks, and Jude still hasn’t returned from the mortal world.  She hasn’t even responded to the two letters I’ve written imploring her to return.

As I near the royal chambers, a member of my personal guard gives me a nervous look.  

“Your Highness. I tried to get to her leave, but she would not,” he says.  

My heart skips a beat.  

But as I look beyond him, I see Nicasia standing in the hall. I don’t know why part of me had expected to see Jude. If it had been her, the guards would be incapacitated and she would be waiting for me inside. Probably with a dagger in her hands.

I can tell Nicasia is trying her best to look elegant and alluring, rather than annoyed.  But I know her too well. Her impatience may as well be a physical thing, roiling in waves off of her. I wonder how long she’s been waiting here. A while, I hope.

“Ah, Nicasia. To what do I owe the honor of your visit?” I can ask this because I am certain she believes the honor of her presence to be a gift wherever she goes.

“Cardan,” she says with a brief, elegant curtsy. A curtsy? She’s certainly trying very hard. “I would prefer if we speak privately.”

I don’t particularly want to invite her into the royal chambers, but I nod and the guards open the doors. I brush past her, quickly taking up the seat where Jude would usually sit. I do not wish to see Nicasia sitting in her place.

Nicasia settles herself in my usual chair, smoothing her skirts around her and folding her hands as if she were sitting to have her portrait painted.  She is wearing a different dress than she did at dinner, and I am certain it’s to a purpose that I refuse to consider. She is certainly lovely, with her delicate features and elegant composure, but I can’t remember what it is about her that I loved before. We are allies — but I know now that she is not to be trusted.  With anything.

“Well?” I prompt.  Her mouth drops open in disbelief for a moment, but she catches herself.  She was clearly expecting something friendlier from me.

“Are we not friends, Cardan? We used to spend time together simply for the pleasure of each other’s company,” she says carefully.

“Then why insist on privacy, if you have nothing of importance to say to me?” I retort. I wish I was less sober for this.

“I had thought that…” she pauses, her lips pursing. She is clearly displeased that I am making her spell things out. To be honest, I am surprised that she waited this long to make a move. Perhaps she had been expecting me to come to her. “I had thought that your request for me to be the ambassador of the Undersea was an indication that you may be reconsidering your refusal of my mother’s… proposal.”

Ah. There it is.

“And am I supposed to just overlook Queen Orlagh’s insults to my kingdom and my rule? And am I also to overlook your participation in her and Balekin’s plans to overthrow and murder me, using my own glamoured mortal seneschal?” I ask coldly, staring her down.

She freezes, her face going pale and her gaze dropping to her hands. She looks a bit like she might be sick.

“I didn’t know,” she whispers. Even if she could lie, I would believe her -- given the stricken look on her face. When her eyes meet mine again, it looks as though she is fighting back tears. “My mother knows that we’re friends, that I care for you. If that truly was a part of her plan, she would not have told me. I would not have allowed it to happen.”

I let out a long breath. I am relieved that she’s a bit less of a duplicitous snake than I had assumed. Betray me with one of our friends? Sure. Be involved in a plot to murder me? Apparently not.

“Good to hear that your treachery has a limit,” I say flatly.

She looks as though I physically struck her. She wears her emotions on her face so plainly, so loudly, that she may as well be shouting.

I miss Jude. Miss trying to read every quirk of her eyebrows and twitch of her lips. A pang of longing shoots through me.

I shake my head, trying to dislodge that unwelcome and unhelpful train of thought.

“So, what now? Just because you didn’t help to orchestrate my attempted murder doesn’t absolve you of whatever part you had in Jude’s capture and, I assume, torture.”

“Torture is a strong word,” Nicasia huffs defensively. She tosses her hair over her shoulder, something she does when she’s discomposed.

“Fine. Neglect at the least. And you can’t tell me that you didn’t use the opportunity to inflict a little cruelty, despite her status as my seneschal. I know you too well for that,” I challenge.

“I don’t know why you care so much. Jude said you only made her your seneschal in return for making you the High King. You two hated each other. But then she also said that…” she trails off, looking away, flushed and embarrassed.

“She said what?” I growl. This ought to be good.

“She said that you kissed her. And she was glamoured, so I know she wasn’t lying.”

A barked laugh escapes me. Leave it to Jude to wield the truth as a weapon while pretending to be glamoured.  

“What’s so funny?” she demands. I wish I still kept a bottle of liquor handy. I am really tired of handling this conversation sober, and I can tell it’s only going to get worse.

“I did. Hate her. And I did kiss her. And I did make her my seneschal because she was responsible for giving me the crown.” That last part is true in word, if not in practice. “What’s funny is that you have the nerve to care about any of this. You gave up your right to care who I kiss or who I hate when you allowed Locke to seduce you.”

She has no response to that, just fidgets in her seat as though it’s suddenly uncomfortable. But she continues looking at me as though she is puzzling something out.

“That’s not all, is it?” she asks.

“Do not expect me to attempt to read your mind, Nicasia. Say what you will or get out,” I say, although my voice comes out with more weariness and less bite than I intend.

“I saw the design for the dress in your chambers. The dress she wore to the coronation. You sent it to her, didn’t you?”

With everything that’s happened between the coronation and now, I had nearly forgotten about that. About my compulsion to dress Jude in the gown I had all but hallucinated on her at Locke’s party. The gown she wore in the dreams I had of her that night. And after.

At least in the dreams where she was wearing a gown.

That’s another unhelpful thought.

“And if I did?” I recover. That’s about as good of a response as I can come up with. I didn’t anticipate her even knowing about that.

���So you didn’t just hate her, then,” she says. It isn’t a question. I feel myself glare at her.

“None of this has anything to do with you, Nicasia,” I say. I rise from my chair and she looks dumbfounded, but I’m not throwing her out just yet. I want to see this conversation through to the end so I don’t have to do this again. I go to a table where there’s a carafe of wine and pour myself a goblet. “Whatever my relationship with Jude may be, she has nothing to do with the end of what we had. That was entirely your own fault. And it’s not like you’ve done much to improve from there. Jude may be a mortal liar, but she wasn’t the one who was unfaithful to me. And she, surprisingly enough, wasn’t the one who shot me with a crossbow.”

Jude did point a crossbow at me, but Nicasia doesn’t need to know about that.

I return to my chair and drink deeply from the goblet, draining it nearly halfway. If she wants some, she can get it herself.

“She said she wouldn’t tell you about that,” Nicasia huffs. I let out a cruel laugh. She crosses her arms over her chest, and I am satisfied to see that she is losing her composure. She is agitated, heat making her face blotchy. Good.

“She lied,” I say with a grin, looking her straight in the face.

“And I’m sure you sorely miss her lying tongue,” she snaps back.

“More than you may realize,” I say dryly. That shuts her up, her mouth hanging open as she contemplates exactly what I mean.

I grin again and take another long swig of my wine. It’s nearly gone already, but it is taking the edge off. I’m certain the side effect is that I will divulge something I don’t intend to, but it’s better than doing without.

“But… but you exiled her,” she finally says.

“I did. But I also intend for her to return in due time. And just because Jude is in the mortal world and you are in the palace of Elfhame as ambassador of the Undersea does not mean that I have any intention of rekindling the relationship that you were responsible for destroying. Nor does it mean I am interested in anything beyond being allies or friends. And I am certainly not interested in taking you as my queen, no matter what Queen Orlagh desires.”

She looks at me now with a combination of despair and fury. Her expressions really are so incredibly loud.

“I would have married you even if you hadn’t become the High King, you know,” she says, her voice coming out a little strained. “That was always what my mother wanted. What she and Balekin had always planned. And I liked that plan, because I did love you.”

“You did a poor job acting as though you did,” I say, voice cold. She laughs, but the sound is devoid of mirth.

“And what? Jude is better? Would she have even bothered with you at all if you weren’t the king, if you didn’t have any power to offer her?”

That strikes a nerve. I don’t think she would have had anything to do with me if it weren’t for the power she stood to gain. But also, I had never given Jude any reason to do anything other than hate me. I refuse to let Nicasia see that's she's hit her mark, though.

“Jude made me the High King. It was her scheme, not mine,” I deflect. Although… perhaps that wasn’t a wise bit of information to offer. There’s no way Nicasia will see all the way through to Jude’s bargain with me, to the control she once had. But it still feels like a dangerous piece of information to have given up. She looks dumbfounded again.

“So now… what? You will welcome her back as your seneschal after killing your brother because you are indebted to her for giving you the crown?” she demands.

“When Jude returns, she will have her place in my court,” I say deliberately. I truly look forward to seeing the look on Nicasia’s face when she realizes that place is as my queen, rather than my seneschal.

We are both silent for a long moment, but all of the tension in the air fizzles to something different. Something quieter. She is looking at her hands as she twists them in her lap.  I think she is working up the nerve to say something else.

“Do you love her?” she asks finally, her eyes dragging up to meet mine.

I struggle to keep my face neutral as my brain tries to supply me with anything I can say that is truth enough to pass. A question, a quip, a deflection, anything.

The wine may have been a bad idea after all.

I sigh, knowing my silence has stretched out long enough to be damning. Nicasia looks equal parts distraught and horrified.

I drain the last of the cursed wine and set the goblet down.

“You’ll be pleased to know that she doesn’t return my feelings, at least,” I mutter. I lean forward and cover my face with my hands, not wanting to see whatever judgment is on her face. She says nothing, so I decide to continue with what I think will distract her enough not to ask too many more questions. “I suppose I have you to thank, partially.  I would have continued on not being able to decide if I wanted her or if I wanted nothing to do with her until she was gone, taken prisoner by your mother and Balekin.”

“But. . . why?" she demands. "She's just a mortal." I look up at her, running my fingers through my hair.

“Why?” I echo. She’s really going to ask me why my feelings are what they are? “You of all people should know that love is not logical -- when I was clearly the superior choice over Locke. Perhaps it is because Jude is clever and cunning and ruthless. Perhaps it is because talking with her always feels like sparring with a partner with whom I am equally matched. Perhaps it is because, even though she is a liar and a keeper of secrets, the only time she ever betrayed my trust, I ended up with a crown and a throne rather than a broken heart.”

Now I’ve really said too much.

Nicasia snaps her mouth shut and shifts uncomfortably in her chair. “But you hated her,” she whispers, clearly incredulous.

“I did, and I didn’t,” I say with a shrug. “I think Jude and I both lead with the worst of ourselves. And because of that, I think she has seen the truth of who I am and has never shied away from it.  I do not believe I can say the same of anyone else. Not even you.”

She stands quickly, and I do the same, blocking her exit.  

“You know I’m not going to let you leave this room until you vow not to tell anything I’ve told you to another living soul, by mouth or by writing or any other means,” I say.

She cannot get to the doors before me. Even if she could, I would simply call the guard and have her detained.  I can see her calculating her options.

“There’s no one I would wish to tell this to, anyway. You have my word,” she says quietly.

I see now that she had maintained a small bit of hope that she has just now lost, leaving her deflated.  That is what prompted her to ask about my feelings for Jude, even though she may not have truly wanted to know. Part of me, the cruel part, is a little satisfied that she is still paying for what she did to me. I nod and step aside to allow her to pass. She gives me a tight lipped smile and sweeps by me, her skirts rustling with each hurried step.

“Nicasia,” I say, facing her again as her hand reaches for the door. She pauses but does not look at me. “I would still like for us not to be enemies. You are free to come and go from Elfhame as you please, but I do wish for you to remain ambassador of the Undersea.”

She is silent for a moment, still refusing to meet my gaze.  She looks more defeated than I have ever seen before.

“I will try to be happy for you, even though I think you’ve made a mistake,” she replies. She then squares her shoulders and straightens her spine, takes a deep breath, and rebuilds her composure before exiting the room. She looks to all the world like the queen she wishes she was.

And nothing at all like my queen.

I take off my heavy jacket and run my fingers through my hair, sighing deeply.

I wonder what Jude is doing -- if she is punishing me by not returning.  I wonder if she is somehow happier in the mortal world, while I miserably await her return. I wonder if she knows she has the upper hand and is just waiting for the pleasure of my surrender.  At this point, I am not above it. I am not above begging her to return.

I sit at my desk and begin to write her another letter.  Perhaps this one will convince her to come home.

[snusbandxknifewife]

Sticky ficky 7!

Have some Oak angst, some Vivi angst, and some Cardan angst feat. Bomb help! I actually made myself sad with this one so I hope y’all enjoy it!

~~~~~~~

Dear High King Uncle Cardan Sir,

It is with a heavy heart that I write to inform you I can no longer engage in correspondence with you, nor can I continue to be your sticky hand supplier. While my alliances were with you throughout this long and trying war, I cannot side with you anymore, given the recent turn of events.

I don’t know what happened with Jude, or why she’s staying in our guest room, but I do know that she suffers. When she saw my green sticky hand in the living room her first night here, she broke down sobbing.

Uncle Cardan, I confess I have never seen my sister cry.

So I send this letter to inform you that I have washed my hands of The Great Sticky Hand War, as I now wash my hands of you. I wanted to be friends, but I must stand by my sister now, as I know she would stand by me.

Why did you have to hurt her?

With disdain,

Oak

Little Oak closed his thesaurus and put down his mechanical pencil, handing the letter to Vivi to proofread. Vivienne Duarte, for her part, had no idea why Oak had decided to stake his honor upon something as trivial as a sticky hand, but she dutifully read over his letter, correcting any spelling mistakes before sealing it in an envelope and promising to send it to Faerie.

If Oak was to become High King one day, he would need to learn diplomacy, this was as good a place as any to start.

So Vivi watched with raised brows as Oak gathered up all his sticky hand memorabilia, his collection and the propaganda posters he’d made for the war, and threw it in the trash without a second glance. His bottom lip wavered and tears seemed ready to spill from his eyes.

Vivi took him out for pizza that night, leaving Jude alone in her room, crying like usual.

~~~~~~

Two weeks had passed since the night Vivi took Oak for pizza, and while she had been confused then, she was now severely worried.

Jude Duarte was a shell of a person. She’d get up to go to the bathroom, but she had yet to take a shower or even brush her hair. She barely ate, and what she ate was anything but nutritious. She denied herself water to the point that her head pounded, and only then would she sneak into her sister’s supply of alcohol, leaving her to wake the next day with a headache already formed.

Vivi didn’t know what the hell to do. She couldn’t handled a normal breakup, one where her sister cried if a certain song came on or because her boyfriend had cheated on her. But how was she supposed to handle a newlywed, exiled from her home and throne? Especially when even the thought of a sticky hand or nerf gun sent her over the edge?

Honestly, Vivi didn’t know what kind of set up those two had had when Jude was still in Elfhame, and she didn’t ever intend to learn. The likelihood of some weird sex thing being involved was way too high for her to even consider asking, not when she already shuddered every time she passed a sticky hand in the toy aisle of the local Dollar Tree.

“Jude?” Vivi called out, knocking on the doorframe of her guest room and staring into the darkness, towards the pile of covers that shielded her sister from the rest of society. “I ordered Chinese food, it should be here in forty-five minutes. I made sure to get sweet and sour chicken, I know it’s your favorite!”

Her fake upbeat tone echoed back to her, but Jude refused to move. With a heavy sigh, Vivi walked forward and sat on the edge of her sister’s bed.

The girl looked like a ghost, her eyes staring blankly ahead and her cheeks stained with tears.

“Jude, honey, you know I love you,” she sighed, patting Jude’s hip. “But you smell like a dumpster. Please come shower in my bathroom.”

Jude, her mouth covered by her duvet, mumbled something Vivi couldn’t understand. Then, after prompting, she spoke again.

“Need help,” she whispered, the most pitiful noise Vivienne had ever heard in her—admittedly short—life. Jude Duarte, asking for help? Fuck.

She decided not to say anything, opting to just pull down the blankets and allow Jude to use her shoulders as support to sit up.

Jude’s time in the Undersea had been tough on her body, and her wallowing in the mortal world had worked overtime to rob her of whatever muscle and fat she had left. Starving oneself and laying in bed at all hours of the day was a terrible recovery strategy, but Vivienne couldn’t really bring herself to berate her sister.

Jude leaned heavily against her sister’s side and together they stumbled through the hall and into Vivi’s bathroom.

Vivi turned on the water, ready to leave to give Jude some privacy, and stopped when she saw the way her sister’s fingers shook. She knew then and there that Jude wouldn’t be able to undress herself, so she did it for her.

Just like when they were children, after Madoc had murdered their parents and spirited them away to Faerie, Vivienne Duarte helped her sister out of her clothes. When they were little, Vivi had been in charge of bathing the twins and helping with their hair. It’s been years since she’s had to do this, but she put Jude in the shower and washed her hair as the young woman sat, face first in the blasting water.

Vivi grit her teeth in anger as she took in the poking bones and concave stomach of her little sister, the girl who had always been full-figured and strong. Her body, her tenacity, her will to live, all taken from her so quickly. Jude Duarte looked broken as Vivi washed her hair, pulling fingers through tangles that had long formed into clumps the size of her palm.

Jude should’ve been safe, she should’ve been ruling in Elfhame, where food and wine abounded and excess was the name of the game. She shouldn’t be wasting away to nothing in a world she never claimed as her own. Cardan, who, by Vivi’s own observation, cared for Jude, should’ve known what banishment would do to her.

No matter what happened, no matter why she’d angered him, he should’ve never banished her. Not then, not so soon after she’d been tortured.

Vivi helped Jude out of the shower and helped her dress before steering her towards the living room, where Oak was waiting with the Chinese food, Teen Titans playing on the old tv.

Vivi took her food into her room and sat down with a pencil and paper.

Cardan Greenbriar, you worm-eaten husk of a man,

I don’t care who you are or what you are, I don’t care about curses or crowns or kingdoms or fate, I care about family. And, right now, mine is hurting. Fix things with my sister, or, so help me gods, you’ll be fucking mincemeat.

Sincerely,

Vivienne Duarte

The paper ripped in some places she was pushing so hard, but she figured that would help get the message across.

She sent it directly to the High King of Elfhame.

~~~~

The scent of smoke hung thick in the air of the unnaturally quiet room. The birds outside the open window knew to stay silent as the man on the floor threw a second crumpled up paper into the crackling fire.

The High King of Elfhame’s rooms were in shambles; furniture broken in rage, tapestries form down by hands with nails bitten down to the quick, books toppled from precarious places on overfilled shelves.

One man, the king himself, sat in the center of the carnage, his back pressed to the foot of his grand bed and his legs stretched out towards the fire roaring in the corner of his bedchamber.

His eyes were wide but unseeing, tears cutting ragged trails through the dirt smudged across his cheeks and his hands shaking in his lap. His tail, freed from his breeches, was the only part of him smart enough to try and hide from the flames. It stuck out behind him like a sore thumb, cowering under the bed in a way that he wished he was small enough to do.

What had he done to his Jude?

He’d thought for sure she would’ve put two and two together, would’ve figured out his riddle. She’d already announced herself to be the High Queen if Elfhame, all she had to do was say she pardoned herself!

He’d considered that maybe she had been to tired from her ordeal the day of her banishment to decode his words, but he was positive she would’ve been recovered enough to come back and claim her throne by now.

His Jude, his darling god, should’ve been by his side already.

When he’d received Oak’s letter a fortnight ago, his very heart, as scabrous and small as it may be, had felt like it was ripped from his chest. His nephew, his only family left—save his mother—so recently introduced and so quickly ripped away from him. He had to admit that one day Oak would make a fantastic diplomat, he was already capable of getting his point across with scathingly few words.

But when he’d gotten Vivienne’s letter, that’s when he began to realize he’d truly fucked up.

His head pounded and his stomach was in knots as he wondered what had happened to his wife in the past two weeks, what had warranted such strong words from his sister-in-law and former friend. Was Jude sick? Had she hurt herself? Was she refusing to eat?

Would she recover? He couldn’t even begin to picture a world where Jude didn’t recover, where she wasn’t fighting tooth and nail to better herself, where she wasn’t the powerhouse he always saw her as.

Deep down in his heart he knew that he’d done the one thing that all the torture in the Undersea wasn’t able to do: he’d broken his wife’s spirit.

He’d never forgive himself.

“Your Majesty!”

Cardan didn’t so much as blink as the Bomb screamed, entering the disaster of her king’s rooms and likely expecting to find his dead body on the floor.

When she saw the fire, she gasped in horror and grabbed Cardan by the shoulders, throwing him as far away from the fire as she was capable of.

The fire had reached halfway up the wall and was dangerously close to engulfing the bookshelf closest to the window. Anyone with a brain knew that, if she left to get buckets of water, the whole room would be up in flames by the time she returned. So, she made the executive decision to sacrifice his duvet—the duvet that he’d pulled up over his sleeping wife only two weeks and a day prior.

She threw the duvet over the fire and began to stomp on it, her thick rubber-soled boots making a hollow THUNK every time she brought her foot down.

When the fire finally stopped trying to fight back and the room was full of cloying black smoke, she pulled the remains of the duvet up.

And it stuck to the floor.

The Bomb furrowed her brow in confusion and pulled harder, bracing her feet against the stone floor and yanking with all her might until the duvet finally gave up and she went flying backwards, landing harshly on her butt with the ruined duvet in her hands.

The underside of the duvet was covered in black scorch marks and some strange, multicolored substance that she can’t quite place.

But Cardan knows what it is, and he reached for the duvet; his fingers running through the molten hot rubbery liquid, tears springing to his eyes once more.

“Your Majesty?” Bomb’s voice was quiet, confused as she watched the boy king spread boiling hot goop between his nimble fingers.

“I couldn’t look at them anymore,” he whispered back and Bomb put two and two together.

He’d started the fire to melt all his sticky hands. The gifts from his nephew, the game he’d played for weeks with Jude. All up in flames in the blink of an eye.

“Why hasn’t she come back?”

Bomb winced, reaching to try and pull his hand back. She could see boils starting to form on his fingers and she knew that if she didn’t get the melted sticky hand off him soon, his skin would burn so badly that it fell off.

“If you were her, would you?” Bomb asked, succeeding in grabbing his hand and worrying at her bottom lip as she saw the blood red burn marks on his hand.

He ripped his hand back from her, forcing her to look him in the eye, to see the wild devotion in his face and the desperation dripping from each tear.

“I’d always come back for Jude. Do you understand that?” He sounded ragged, broken and robbed of comfort. “Always. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of going after her, Liliver. Please, you must know that. You have to know that.”

The Bomb had never seen anything like this, not from Cardan, not from another faerie, not from anyone. This kind of pure, unrestrained pain reached out from every facet of the king’s being and grabbed her heart with a grip of cold iron, throttling her as she watched him suffer.

“Liliver I did it for her! Everything I did was for her, she has to know that. She can’t not know that!” He’d reached the point of sobbing, his burned hand hanging limply at his chest and starting to well blood from where the burns broke his skin.

“They would’ve killed her, Liliver, we both know it!” Cardan’s voice cracked and he folded over himself. “You saw what she looked like, she was wasting away! No mortal should ever be that thin, Liliver, certainly not Jude!”

“Your Majesty, please.” Bomb didn’t know what to do beyond grab his injured hand once more. She pulled him to his feet and hauled him over to the bathing chamber, but he stopped in the doorway. He refused to go in, refused to hard that brambles grew over the entrance and stopped the Bomb from trying again.

So she moved him to his desk and she sat him down. It took about a half an hour of work, but she was able to pull the ruined sticky hand mash off his hand, burned skin and blood falling away with every movement. The whole time he sobbed, he lamented, he worried. Cardan Greenbriar, High King of Elfhame, told her every word from the two letters he’d received because he’d memorized them both in his pain. He told her of his fears for his wife and he asked for her advice and she didn’t know what to tell him.

She didn’t know what she would’ve done if she’d been Jude and Van had been Cardan. She didn’t know how to come back from a betrayal like that.

“Write back,” she finally offered as she bound his hand. Around them ash was still falling and his room was still a disaster, but at least Cardan seemed to have recovered some of his composure; sewn together just like his ruined hand. “Write Jude, tell her what you meant. You can’t leave Faerie to go get her, not with Madoc on the prowl, but that doesn’t mean you can’t speak to her in your own way.”

He froze, his hand throbbing against the confines of his bandages as he looked at the Bomb. She was right. She was seldom wrong.

Liliver figured that she wouldn’t get his dismissal, not with the way his gaze had gone so distant so suddenly, so she excused herself. She arranged for the rest of the Court of Shadows to clean his rooms, ensuring that she was the one cleaning his bedchamber.

She watched as he wrote and wrote and wrote and she said nothing, not that he would’ve heard her anyway. He was way too far in his own head.

She found herself grabbing his jacket off the floor—no doubt thrown in a fit of anger earlier during the night—and she found herself walking towards his closet.

Cardan Greenbriar hadn’t gone into his closet since that night, his wedding night. Not since he’d been with his wife, his darling.

So it was Liliver who found the discarded blue sticky hand with the broken ring finger, the only sticky hand saved from the great sticky hand fire.

She didn’t even think as she grabbed it and hid it in her trouser pocket, slyfooting away and out into the hall. She didn’t think as she snuck into a back tunnel and worked her way up to the room that Jude had kept as Seneschal. She didn’t think as she opened Jude’s bedside drawer.

And when she was met with a pink glittery sticky hand, she smiled. When she set the blue hand next to the pink one, she thought that maybe, just maybe, these two would have a chance.

She hoped they’d have a chance.

~~~~~~~

Hope y’all don’t hate me yikes lol

Tag list: @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @hizqueen4life @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @thewickedkings @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @cheekycheekycheeks @queen-of-glass @b00kworm @doingmyrainbow @andromeddea @jurdanhell

[nightspeckle]

High School Au

Jude and Cardan hate eachother with everyinch of thier bodies. But one night can change everything, or can it?

Part 2 -- Part 3 -- Part 4 

******

Jude’s Pov:

“Why would I want to go to that?” I ask confused why this is even a question.

Liliver is biting into one of her celery sticks the crunch loud in the space between the three of us. Fand is looking at me with a smile in her eyes as we sit in the giant cafeteria.

“Oh c’mon Jude, it could be fun!” Fand is bouncing on her seat the smile spreading to her lips now.

“They’re awful people, it would probably be shit and I don’t want to go.”

“Those are my friends you’re talking about Jude,” Fand mumbles stirring up the yogurt she’s eating.

“Why are you friends with them?” Lil asks her eyes glinting with amusement.

“I second that question,” I say as Fand rolls her eyes at the both of us.

“They're not all that awful,” Fand says eyes scanning the cafeteria behind me.

I scoff. Liliver scoffs. The boys next to us scoff. The lunch ladies scoff. The teachers scoff. My 90 year old neighbor with the creepy Elvis posters scoffs. The three people who live in Antarctica scoff. The whole world scoffs at that.

Fand just sighs at us. “They're actually really... I mean they are kinda shitty, aren’t they?”

A quiet laugh bubbles out of me. Same with Liliver as she focuses back on finishing her AP Chem homework before lunch ends.

“I heard that Van was going,” Fand says her voice singsongy and directed at Lil.

Ridiculous. I can’t believe Fand pulled that card.

“Fuck you. Now I’m going” Lil says a smirk playing on her lips as she shoves Fand’s shoulder playfully.

“And your little ghostly pale boy Jude,” She winks at me then.

“He’s not my boy,” I say a little annoyed. “We’re just friends,”.

“Sure you are,” Liliver says tapping her pencil on her notebook.

“So you’re coming now,” Fand states now a smile wide on her face. She’s confident that she swindled my no into a yes. Which sucks because she has. Ugh.

“Yeah,”

....

The worst thing about high school parties is the heat. A hundred bodies stuffed into one house all huddled around one another. I can feel a bead of sweat drip down my forehead and all I’ve been doing is standing. Fucking gross.

Lil huffs out a breath blowing a strand of white curly hair out of her face.

“I knew this would be awful,” I say swirling the concoction in my cup around.

Lil bobs her head in agreement before taking a long sip of the beer she grabbed.

“Maybe we should just go,” I say scanning the crowd again from our perch along the wall.

I’m risking Dad’s curfew rath for this and it isn’t even worth it. I’d rather be drinking alone with Lil and Fand over this scramble of bodies.

“Fand will murder us if we leave before saying hi,” Lil shouts trying to be heard over the pounding music.

She has a mischevious look in her eyes that tells me that’s not why she wants to stay. I can’t help but roll my eyes at the faraway look on her face.

“Let’s at least try to find Fand,” I say into her ear so she can hear me. “Maybe we’ll also find the reason you wore this.” I pick at her black bra strap wiggling my eyebrows while talking.

“Ass!” Lil says shoulder shoving into mine. I can’t help the laugh that roars out of me as I walk away into the crowd.

It takes a lot of pushing and nudging to get through the mass of hormone-driven bodies in the room but we manage. A smile is on Lil’s face as she spots a tall black haired boy leaning against the doorway into the kitchen.

When he spots Lil he brightens up. Even a small smile comes to his face.

“Hey Lil,” His voice is steady and clear even in the chaos that is this party.

“Hey V,” Lil’s smile is bright and her eyes shining along with it. She’s completely entranced. I stand there for a few seconds but they both have already started talking again, forgetting my existence completely. Perfect.

I take a step away ready to hightail it and find Fand but Van speaks. “Garrett is in the kitchen”.

I turn back to say thanks but my words die when I see they’re already back to only paying attention to each other.

There so blindly in love.

I can’t help but stifle the giggle that comes surging up before pushing my way through more bodies to the kitchen. 

What the hell have I been drinking?

“Jude?” 

Oh shit. I turn to where the voice came from and regret it immediately.

There’s a group of people sprawled out on a few chairs and couches. Alcohol and pot clutched in their fingers.

I look to the chair closest to me where my sister sits limbs intertwined with her boyfriend. She’s sitting in his lap hands curling around his hair.

“I thought you were staying at home?” Taryn’s voice is soft, sweet. It’s obvious she’s trying to be nice. To mend the rift that she created. I shake it off and give her a shrug that she can read however she wants to.

“What a pleasant surprise to see you here,” Locke says. His eyes roving over me as he speaks. All while he runs his hands over my sister in places you wouldn’t see in a PG movie. “You look nice,”

Taryn flinches at that.

It makes it so much harder to restrain the urge to flip him off.

I take a deep breath and force myself to smile slightly at Taryn before turning away.

“Have fun, Jude!” I hear her say. I think if I spend one more second with them both Locke will end up dead. Well not really. But it’s nice to fantasize sometimes.

I look over my shoulder with the intention of waving goodbye and immediately wish I hadn’t. He’s kissing her on the neck, his hands pulling her closer to him all while his eyes bore into mine.

She’s ruffling his mess of orange hair and his eyes are glinting mischievously as he winks at me. Asshole.

I whip around the corner and duck into the kitchen. 

Too soon. Way too fucking soon.

I find my way into the kitchen and gulp down a shot of vodka. 

I look around the kitchen praying to find Garrett. But I strike out yet again. He’s nowhere to be seen.

Lil is too busy trying to get Van to notice she’s in love, Fand and Garrett are MIA, and Taryn’s hooking up with my ex-boyfriend. All while I drink by myself in the kitchen next to an obnoxiously loud group of girls.

I fucking hate parties.

....  

A bead of sweat slides down my neck as I continue to jump around with Vivi and Heather. I thankfully found them after my 3rd shot. I don’t think I could have stayed any longer if I hadn’t.

The music is coursing through my limbs, my whole body buzzing along with the beat. My head is fuzzy enough to know that I’ll hate myself tomorrow but like whatever. 

My hands interlaced with Viv’s are up in the air and my body is moving at its own accord at this point. Viv’s golden eyes keep flashing blue when the lights do and for some reason, I feel myself laughing.  

I’m pressed so tight up to Viv in the crowd that I can barely see Heather anymore. I don’t think I could ever be closer to another person until suddenly I am. 

Hands from behind me grab my waist and in a blink of an eye, I've pulled away from Viv and pressed against someone else entirely. 

The music is flowing through me and I just follow it, the person behind me moving to the beat as well. 

I look down at the hands attached to my waist. They're big, strong, a guys. Chipped black nail polish is splayed on his fingertips. He’s wearing a few gold rings and I feel them bite into my skin. Hot. 

I lean back, one body molding into the other as songs pass by. 

One of his hands slips down my ass as he spins me around to face him. My hands are roving to intertwine with black curly hair. 

Black eyes. Abnormally beautiful black eyes meet mine. I know one person with those eyes. 

It’s like someone dropped a bucket of ice down my shirt. Goosebumps popping up everywhere we touched. 

My eyes clear enough to reply to who this is. Who I just danced with. Grinded on.

I take a step back, see the hatred I know so well fill his cold cruel eyes.

And then I slap him across the face.

~~~

[myqueenjudeduarte]

cardan gets drunk and jude takes care of him? lmao that's kind of canon

This is the absolute sappiest shit I have EVER written I can’t even believe I did this... honestly shameful but here it is.

Also - spoilers included for the prologue of TQON.

There had been many mornings in the six months since Jude and Cardan had begun sharing chambers, some crisp enough that they huddled together under the blankets, others warm enough that Cardan, and sometimes even Jude, forwent nightclothes. Of those mornings, there had been many on which Jude was awoken softly, with Cardan’s hands in her hair and lips on her skin, or more roughly, with insistent touches and urgent sounds. There were still others on which Cardan was the one to be awoken, Jude’s soft words, those she reserved only for him and only for these moments, in his ears. 

This was not one of those mornings.

This was one of the thankfully rarer mornings on which Jude woke up to Cardan staring listlessly at the ceiling. A morning on which she could see the weight of all that had happened in his eyes, and of all that he surely thought was yet to come.

After all, a life of abandonment, suffering, sorrow and cruelty is not easily forgotten, nor does one who has gone through it believe it to be over, or over so early in life.

On these mornings, Jude tried a variety of tactics to bring him back to the Cardan she so often saw, and they rarely helped. When Cardan’s mood shifted like this, when it was all he could do to stay grounded, hold on to the life he had, there was little anyone could do to pull him from it.

This morning, Jude curled herself closer to him, rested her head on his chest and listened to his breathing.

He allowed this comfort for only moments before he rose from the bed, gently pushing Jude away, and began to dress.

“Cardan--” Jude began, but he left hurriedly before she could speak further, nothing but a glance over his shoulder betraying the guilt he felt over his own refusal to accept her comfort. To accept her presence at all.

She stayed in their chambers for the rest of the day, busying herself with correspondence and cleaning, tasks she didn’t need to attend to at all or didn’t need to attend to yet. Still, they provided something to do, and a way to give Cardan space until he sought her out, until he was ready to admit to needing her.

As it happened, he didn’t seek her out -- a messenger was sent in his stead.

“My Queen,” he began, “the High King requires your... assistance.”

From the distaste with which he spoke, she thought she knew exactly what sort of drunken state she would find her husband in, yet was surprised by how far it had gone.

Cardan was stumbling onto the dais when she reached the throne room, in the worst shape in which she had seen him since the night he was poisoned, over a year ago now.

He opened his mouth as if to announce something, but closed it when he saw her. A smile came to his face, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“My Queen,” he said, walking unsteadily towards her before falling to his knees. “How I have missed you.”

This, at least, she could tell was genuine, and she gave him a small smile before bending down to his level.

“Cardan, we need to go back to your chambers, okay?”

He leaned in to whisper in her ear.

“I don’t want to go back,” he said, near whining. “I don’t want to be alone again.”

Jude felt instantly guilty. “I’m sorry I left you alone today. I thought it was what you wanted.”

“It was,” he said, confusion written plainly on his face. “I mean, it wasn’t. I couldn’t let myself be with you. I needed to be alone. I always need to be alone.”

Jude frowned, not understanding Cardan’s drunken ramblings, when usually she was the only one who did.

“Let’s get you back to your rooms, and we will talk further.”

She led him to his chambers, but the process was slow going, because not only did Cardan stumble as he walked, he had urgent questions for Jude every few steps.

“Do you believe me, Jude?”

“Believe what?”

“Me.”

“Of course I believe you, Cardan, though I have no idea what I need to believe. You cannot tell a lie.”

Cardan frowned.

“It didn’t matter,” he said darkly. “That didn’t matter.”

Jude knew what this, at least, referred to. Cardan had confided in her some time earlier about the murder he had been framed to have committed, and she reached over to tangle her fingers in the back of his hair, stroking downwards reassuringly.

“It matters now,” she whispered. “It matters to me.”

Finally, he fell silent until they reached his chambers. When they arrived, Jude helped him strip out of his clothing, stiff with spilled wine, and slide into bed.

“Don’t leave,” he said, voice both anxious and resigned. “Jude, please, don’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, making her voice as soothing as possible, though it was not her strong suit to be soft or comforting. 

“Don’t leave,” he murmured again. “I know you will, but please.”

“I’m not leaving, dearest.” This name she reserved for only the most dire of occasions, the moments like this one when she could see a lifetime of pain in his eyes, when she could feel it. It made her hurt. “I’m never leaving.”

This was a promise she knew well she could not keep, for she was mortal and he was not and one day, she would leave forever. Still, she made it, because he needed to know that it was her intention.

“You left before,” he said, accusingly.

“You exiled me,” she reminded him, willing her patience not to grow thin.

“Oh, yes,” he admitted, remembering himself. “I did.”

Jude closed her eyes against the pain in his.

“You didn’t deserve it,” she said softly, moving to join him on the bed. “Being left. You didn’t deserve it.”

“I loved them,” he said, “I loved them all. I used to have so much love, Jude. Where did the love go?”

“You still have it, Cardan. I see it in you. The whole of Elfhame benefits from the love you hold.”

Cardan’s eyes grew serious, and he took her hand in his. “I love you, Jude. I love you wholly and entirely, more than I express. I need to express it, my darling. I love you.”

Jude felt chills run up her arms, her spine. “And I love you. You need to go to sleep now, Cardan, and know that I will be here when you awaken. Can you know that? Can you believe that from me, for me?”

Cardan nodded. “I will do always as you desire, believe what you ask of me. You have my trust as you have my heart.”

Jude smiled and placed a hand on his own heart. “And you have mine.”

[welcometothebookreport]

In 2020, I read 40 books (with maybe a few more to be added after I post this) after discovering my love of reading all over again. I am not a very hard reader to please, so it will be rare for me to rate a book with a low score, so I doubt you’ll ever see any criticism from me. So, here we go!

A few things before I start: There are three series in this list (but technically only two, because I’ve only read Serpent & Dove so far) but I’ve limited myself to no repeat authors. That must have been the hardest part for me. Since Jessi went the extra mile and ranked them in order, I’ve decided to make myself suffer the same. And while most of these were not published in 2020, they were read in 2020.

I am (sometimes) a picky reader, but any book that is on this list, I have loved. I chose not to rate them because honestly, they would have all been high. I give ratings easily, and try not to pick things apart even for books I truly did not like.

Please keep in mind that I do my best to add trigger warnings, but you should always check for certain triggers before reading. Triggers vary for everyone.

10. Saint Anything by Sarah Dessen

Warnings: There’s a male character that’s a creep and you’ll spot him as soon as you crack this one open. This tale deals with Peyton being sentenced to prison, and their mother practically glossing over what he’s done by victim blaming.

I have read Dessen’s books since I was 13 and I truly still enjoy her stories as much as I did then. While this was a re-read for me, it’s a tie for my favorite book of hers. It’s tied with Along For the Ride.

Sydney is left in the aftermath after her older brother, Peyton, is sentenced to prison after a drunk driving accident that paralyzes a boy. Formerly in his shadow, Sydney struggles to discover what it is she wants, and how she wants to be seen as her own mother seems to gloss right over her. It’s a YA read that always feels like more than the romance that originally interested me.

9.  Serpent & Dove by Shelby Mahurin

Warnings: Misogyny. The church and religion plays an extremely heavy part of this plot, which was hard for me to get into. It’s clear that some characters do not value women in their actions and words toward Lou. It made me uncomfortable in spots because I just wanted to get past it, but I plan to read this one again since I know that it won’t bother me this time! Still, there is: violence in parts, religious zealots (in case that’s something that makes you uncomfortable like it did me), derogatory slurs toward women, and again, misogyny.

I finished this one two days ago, and I sincerely cannot wait to dig into the sequel. Lou is a witty, snappy character that was such a breath of fresh air from the normal. You usually see the male lead that’s a bit crude, a bit quick to pull the trigger, and the one that’s harder to crack. Is that what happened here? Absolutely fucking not. Shelby Mahurin took something I loved, enemies to lovers, and kicked its ass. Forced marriage? UM YES. A witch and a witch-hunter? Mortal enemies? Characters that can never possibly love each other? DONE DONE DONE.

It’s hilarious in parts. Serious when it needs to be. A bit spicy too, while not a lot, which I certainly appreciate. Reid’s character development is a wonder to watch, at least for me, and by the end of the book, I am so in love with him that I don’t know what to do with myself. I have so many annotations for this novel.

8. The Shadows Between Us by Tricia Levenseller

Warnings: There’s a fair bout of murder. Women are expected not to take lovers before marriage while men are not held to the same standard. Gross. Allessandra is continually underestimated so let me say: let the women do the work.

It’s called the Slytherin romance we’ve been waiting for, and I agree. While this is a shorter read, and a standalone, I was pleased with it. Both characters are incredibly ambitious, but it’s Allessandra that steals the show. The plan? To enter the palace, woo the king, and then kill him in order to take his kingdom. She’s wicked in all the ways I love.

I loved this book, and each page, but this was the line that will make me return to it: “I’m not a trollop,” I announce to the empty room. “I’m a sexually empowered woman, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

The Folk of the Air Series by Holly Black

Warnings: Aside from murder, there’s nothing that stands out to me as a trigger.

A series! The first! There’s something interesting about this series for me, and it’s that I didn’t fall in love altogether, all at once. It was gradual, like wading into water until it went right over my head. By the final fourth of The Cruel Prince, I was fully invested in this world and I absolutely needed to know how Jude and Cardan would become, well, Jude and Cardan.

As a YA series, I was not expecting the sheer amount of mystery, political intrigue, and plot twists that came with this series. However, I never knew what was going to happen, and if I did guess what was coming, Black had at least two more twists to send me for a loop. The Queen of Nothing was likely my favorite book of the series, with The Wicked King as a close second.

6. Red, White & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston

Warnings:  Discussion of attempted non-con assault, forced disclosure of sexuality

I laughed until my eyes watered and I nearly cried in this book. Delightfully funny, and snappy, RW&B delivers on everything I didn’t know that I needed. I had never read a book where LGBTQ was represented in such a positive light. As someone raised in a more conservative household, I’ve known my own sexual orientation for a long time, but this book made me feel like I could relax in my skin because this story was stunning.

Alex and Henry left me with so much hope that it’s impossible to ever put the lid back on. I’m so happy I read this.

(oh, god, we’re in the final five.)

5. The Caraval Series by Stephanie Garber

Warnings: Physical and emotional child abuse.

I could dedicate multiple posts to this series. Maybe I still will. While this is at number five, it’s my favorite series I’ve ever read. If I could only have one series to read for the rest of my life, I would choose this one. Hands down. Full stop. These characters live in my head constantly and I would give an obscene amount of things to read it all over again for the first time. I actually read this with two of my closest friends in our many book club, and we all loved it.

Doused in magic, this world is unveiled to us with excellent descriptions. Truly, Garber owned my heart within a few chapters. Scarlett is the elder sister, Tella the younger, and if you don’t love Tella by the end of Caraval, I promise you will. I know because I was skeptical, but here I am. I’ve said it to my friends, but Scarlett is the one who holds my hair while I have a hangover. Tella is the one that helps me start the bar fight.

With non-stop turns, and magic, everything comes to life on these pages. And the romance, the romance. Please, please give me my great love in this style. It’s not too much to ask for, is it?

4. Letters to the Lost by Brigid Kemmerer

Warnings:  loss of sibling, loss of parent, alcoholism, mention of infidelity, mentions of previous physical and emotional child abuse.

Mae sent this recommendation to me, and I devoured all of Kemmer’s books post-haste. Declan and Juliet fall in love without knowing who the other is, while also not liking the real version of their penpal. Juliet has lost her mother, and she’s treading water, but not well. Declan has suffered in the years that follow a family tragedy, and he’s not adapting to life with his new step-father.

But he opens with CemetaryGirl (Juliet) and it’s raw in the best of ways, and the openness between them that eventually moves from their bubble to reality is one of the most pleasing things to read. I’ve read it twice this year. I will read it again next year too.

I also read this twice this year and will for sure be reading it again in 2021.

3. The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

Warnings: Child abuse.

This was another novel that I fell in love with as I went, and that’s definitely because of the non-linear narrative. It was a little confusing, but I’m going to read it again someday since I know everything now! I read this to follow-up to Caraval with my book club pals, and it’s just what I needed to leave Caraval behind. Marco and Celia are incredible and I absolutely believe that the ending of this novel is one of the best endings I’ve ever read.

My book club has not finished this book entirely this so I’m not sharing any spoilers, but I would like to share one of my favorite quotes. “What did you wish for?” “I wished for her.”

2. Next Year in Havana by Chanel Cleeton

Warnings: Cuba is in the middle of a revolution, and it’s tense in parts. There are some bittersweet elements and I think the parts of the ending are like the punch in the gut you need in order to wake you up and remember to live.

This was my first read once I really dug back into this hobby in August. It was picked by Reese Witherspoon for her book club, and she always picks good books. This is a dual timeline romance, and mystery. It’s an absolute stunner of a book. It’s a dear favorite to me now. I’ve never been to Cubs, or heard stories, but Cleeton manages to make you feel like you’re right there feeling saltwater spray across your face.

The romance made me feel breathless, but truly it’s the strong familial ties that make this such a beautiful gem. It leaves you with hope even in the dark and with love in the absence of it. I could scream about this book for the rest of my life, which I absolutely intend to do.

Favorite line? “You’re going to be difficult to walk away from, aren’t you?” “I hope so.”

1 In A Holidaze by Christina Lauren

Warnings? There are none that strike me. This is a lighthearted read that pulls at the heartstrings, but it’s by no means short on the laughs. And, I’m sorry for the long wall of text below.

In A Holidaze is the story of a woman stuck in her ways of never going after what she truly wants until a stray wish lands her in a time loop over the holidays. It's only after repeating the same day a few times that she quite literally says "fuck this," and starts living for HER. I really expected this to just be a Hallmark kind of read, but it was SO MUCH MORE. You should read it, even if it's after the holidays.

It's witty, and heart-wrenching, and it's just everything I didn't know I needed. Mae is snarky, and brave when she figures out that there is nothing stopping her, and the romance is - GODDAMN. Andrew. I need an Andrew and a fan.

It's not quite a love triangle, which was what I expected and I was so pleasantly surprised. I have grinned like a goddamn fool all day. I have giggled all day in front of customers, and my co-workers. I have nearly CRIED in my bedroom when my heart fell out of my ass and landed somewhere near my ankles, because hello, it's gonna get you.

This is going on my yearly re-read list for the holidays.

In the two days since I’ve finished, I’ve convinced my two friends in book club to read it, convinced Jessi to order it from Book of the Month Club, convinced another friend to read it, and bought it for Mae on Christmas day because her library had a six month hold and that was simply unacceptable.

[poemsforpersephone]

Over the course of the past year I’ve read over 70 books. Some haven’t quite lived up to expectations but the 10 below stuck in my mind for long enough to make it onto this list. I’ve written a few details about each to explain why they stuck with me and why I think you should give them a shot. 

The Bedlam Stacks by Natasha Pulley

Rating: 4.5/5

Brief Synopsis: In 1859, ex-East India Company smuggler Merrick Tremayne is trapped at home in Cornwall after sustaining an injury that almost cost him his leg and something is wrong; a statue moves, his grandfather’s pines explode, and his brother accuses him of madness. When the India Office recruits Merrick for an expedition to fetch quinine—essential for the treatment of malaria—from deep within Peru, he knows it’s a terrible idea. Nearly every able-bodied expeditionary who’s made the attempt has died, and he can barely walk. But Merrick is desperate to escape everything at home, so he sets off, against his better judgment, for a tiny mission colony on the edge of the Amazon where a salt line on the ground separates town from forest.

Favourite Quote: “There are things you wouldn’t do, if you had a motherless child waiting at home. Or with you. Places where you would turn back.”

Why This Book: I’m not usually a fan of historical books, but I absolutely loved this one. The way the world is written, the characters, the unfolding of the plot. Everything just worked together so well. Not sure if it’s canon queer or not but there is strong m/m relationship vibes from two of the characters, like in my eyes they romantically loved each other, im just not sure if it was intended that way by the author or not.

The Wicked King and The Queen of Nothing by Holly Black

Rating: 5

Brief Synopsis: (of the first book in the series, for context) Jude was seven when her parents were murdered and she and her two sisters were stolen away to live in the treacherous High Court of Faerie. Ten years later, Jude wants nothing more than to belong there, despite her mortality. But many of the fey despise humans. Especially Prince Cardan, the youngest and wickedest son of the High King.

Favourite Quote: ““If he thought I was bad, I would be worse. If he thought I was cruel, I would be horrifying.”

Why These Books: The entire series is just pure gold. The audibooks are fantastic, but more than anything it’s the story, and the voice of the main character, and of her family and enemies. I love books which work along fey story lines and worlds, so this was perfect for me. f/f secondary character relationship.

The Nowhere Girls by Amy Reed

Rating: 5

Brief Synopsis: Three misfits come together to avenge the rape of a fellow classmate and in the process trigger a change in the misogynist culture at their high school transforming the lives of everyone around them in this searing and timely story.

Favourite Quote: “One small kindness in a sea of cruelty, one word of truth among lies, these are the seeds that can change the world.”

Why This Book: Jesus christ this BOOK. Girls protecting girls is literally my most favourite thing in the entire world. Coming together, standing together, fighting together. And diversity too! If you add girls protecting girls and queer girls into the same book you officially have my heart. I have goosebumps covering my arms and my heart is aching just thinking about this book.

The Last Sun and The Hanged Man by K.D. Edwards

Rating: 5 (who am I kidding, it’s a clear cut 10/5. I can’t put into words how much i love this series).

Brief Synopsis: Rune Saint John, last child of the fallen Sun Court, is hired to search for Lady Judgment's missing son, Addam, on New Atlantis, the island city where the Atlanteans moved after ordinary humans destroyed their original home.

Favourite Quote: uhhh can i like, list the entire contents of two whole books here? no? huh. alright. ““Didn’t you know what his father was like—what kind of ability Rune has inherited? Those aren’t just shoes to fill, it’s the whole fucking shoe factory. Don’t you ever doubt whether he can do what he says.”

Why These Books: They hit every single trope I love, the writing is fantastic and witty, and characters jump from the page and the plot keeps you ensnared and engrossed. The world is alive, and to top it off, the author is super nice and interacts with the fandom, which is always nice to see. m/m.

Red, White and Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston

Rating: 5

Brief Synopsis: What happens when America's First Son falls in love with the Prince of Wales?

Favourite Quote: “That's the choice. I love him, with all that, because of all that. On purpose. I love him on purpose.”

Why This Book: Where do I even start? How do I sum up everything I feel for this book in one single paragraph? I cannot write down the noises of joy I made throughout reading it. I can't draw either of the two times i actually hugged it. This book. God. This book. Just go read it, okay? m/m.

The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon

Rating: 5

Brief Synopsis: A world divided. A queendom without an heir. An ancient enemy awakens.

Favourite Quote: “All the world is a cage in a young girl's eyes.”

Why This Book: It’s massive, an actual tomb that could damage someone if you hit them with it, and from start to finish it ensnared me with its rich world and realistic characters and AND!!! The diversity!!!! The women in this book!!! I wanna marry them all!!!!!!!! I’ll be their loving wife as long as they’ll have me!!!!!!!! like legit the definition of "i would let that woman step on me" im so gay for them ALL. f/f.

Salt Magic Skin Magic by Lee Welch

Rating: 4

Brief Synopsis: Lord Thornby has been trapped on his father’s isolated Yorkshire estate for a year. There are no bars or chains; he simply can’t leave. His sanity is starting to fray. When industrial magician John Blake arrives to investigate a case of witchcraft, he finds the peculiar, arrogant Thornby as alarming as he is attractive. John soon finds himself caught up in a dark fairytale, where all the rules of magic—and love—are changed.

Why This Book: I absolutely devoured this book. I listened to the audio book version on 1.5 speed most of the way through and even popped into 1.75 and 2 speed because I needed to know what happened so badly. I had my suspicions and they were proved correct and it was so beautiful and lovely. m/m and absolutely wonderful.

The Deathless Girls by Kiran Millwood Hargave

Rating: 4/5

Brief Synopsis: On the eve of her divining, the day she'll discover her fate, seventeen-year-old Lil and her twin sister Kizzy are captured and enslaved by the cruel Boyar Valcar, taken far away from their beloved traveller community.

Favourite Quote: “I could see the roots of the trees below me seeking water, and the leaves above me seeking sun.”

Why This Book: Beautifully crafted, effortlessly enthralling and dark like vampire stories should be. I’m torn about the ending but the lead up? The characters? The plot? All so well put together. The bond between the two sisters was strong, well written and beautiful. It’s f/f also, which is awesome.

[riot-in-reverie]

Also I just made my first ever collaborative fanfiction. Its with

@cardan-greenbriar-tcp who also posted it. You should definitely check them out. Their very nice and they also post neat stuff!

The air is crisp and cool- something unexpected during some of the hottest summer days I have ever fucking endured. Vivi is being extra annoying on the phone, chewing her gum extra loud. I ball my fist up to keep from diving for her face. Taryn’s walking ahead of us, holding Oak’s hands.

I’m supposed to be dropping off Oak to school with Taryn, but Vivi insisted on coming. She said she had some “business with Heather” anyways. I didn’t want to ask any more questions- she usually ditched class just to drop Heather to school. She’s missed enough days though, so it didn’t even matter anymore.

“Hold my backpack, will you?” I groan, slinking the sack over my shoulder.

I trained with Oak last night. I tried to get him to do some pushups, but he got bored and tried to see if I could do 100 in five minutes. I did.

“You’re the one going to school. Carry it yourself” she said, teasing me. “C’mon Vi” I stretched out her name and groaned.

“Fine.” She took my backpack in her hand. I straightened my back and tried to massage my muscles as we walked. I can see Oak’s school in front of us. I can hear the laughter of children getting louder. I miss being young. Whatever.

“Make sure you stay out of trouble” Taryn says, booping his nose. Oak sticks out his tongue. “You little-” I pretend like I’m going to lunge for him, and this sends him sprinting to the sandpit. Innocent jerk. I love him though. Now it’s just the three of us. Vivi, Taryn and I.

We walk close to each other- I stride alone the edge of the sidewalk, Vivi on the other and Taryn sandwiched between us.

“So, what’s the plan afterschool? Who’s turn is it for groceries?” Taryn asks. Gosh, such a busybody.

“Jude’s” Vivi replies cooly.

I shake my head. I’m lying though- it is my turn.

“Fuck no, I’m not getting groceries today. I’ve got got fencing practice.” I didn’t lie about that. Fencing was the only sport at Elfhame High that I actually enjoy. Something I’m good at, besides my usual classes. Fae are no smarter than I am academically. They sure can play around with their words though. I argue with Vivi more, just for the hell of it. Soon enough, we’ve arrived to the pit of hell itsself.

Elfhame high.

It’s packed, as usual, with fae of all sorts lounging or hurrying. Laughter arose in almost every corner. Some were making out- disgusting- and others crying. It was a literal fucking mess. Too bad I stuck out like a sore thumb. I wave Taryn goodbye and head to the third floor to grab my textbooks. They were so heavy for no goddamn reason. And I had no magic to use to carry them around.As I look around at all the chaos, I feel a weight being lifted from my shoulders. My backpack is gone, and standing beside me holding my backpack was none other than Locke.

Pretty bastard.

I didn’t mind Locke. I mean, he’s pretty nice and pretty handsome. Sometimes he reminded me of a fox, his hair the deep russet color of a foxe’s fur. His eyes too- prowling, resembling a fox’s eyes. And not to mention his wit.

Taryn, however, stayed but didn’t say anything. As usual. I looked up at him.

“Backpack. Now.” I say by way of greeting. He chuckles and drops it into my hands.

“And here i thought i’d be a gentleman and carry it for you.” He teases, smiling.

"I shouldn’t have to remind you that I am a strong, independent woman, thank you" I spit.

jerk.

Then Taryn thinks it’s a good idea to bring up how I was complaining about my backpack earlier, but I quickly jab her with an elbow to the side. I catch Locke wink at me and he waves saying he will look for me later.

I hope he doesn’t find me.

I leave Taryn a little later before heading to my first class- Elfhame history. I try not to show it, but it is by far the most interesting class offered at Elfhame. It’s rich with politics, murder, deep discussions. Although the other students couldn’t care less, I find it so much fun. Plus, the professor is pretty fucking amazing.

I step inside briskly. I’m glad I wore a light sweater- even the classroom is cold.

“Hey professor Aethion” I say, throwing hand guns signs at him. He smiles.

“Jude. My favorite student. Take a seat. I hope your classmates arrive soon- they’re always lounging around the halls until the last second. I might have to try enchanting the doorknobs or something.”

I let out a laugh before walking down the large classroom to find a seat. Anywhere was fine, but I preferred the back. Why? Because it was simply the best. I get to see everyone, what everyone’s doing, the whole board.... Wait.

There’s someone sitting in my usual seat. I stop for a second before storming up there, ready to confront the asshole who decided to sit in my favorite seat. No, I’m not a baby for crying out loud- it’s just...

Cardan. Cardan goddamned Greenbriar.His tall frame was leaning against my desk, his long fingers carelessly scrolling on what was obviously a very expensive phone. He’s wearing a dress shirt that he wore in a way so it revealed quite a fair bit of his chest, paired with some low waisted ripped jeans that were a faded black.

I took a small step hoping that maybe he would just focus on his phone and I could move past. But as soon as I moved he looked up and towards me. He put his hands on his hips and smirked at me.

“Well if it isn’t Jude Duarte '' He says lightly. Too lightly.

I sighed and turned towards him

“Cardan '' I say back. I made the mistake of looking up at his pretty face. God, I hated that face. The sharp cheekbones that always seemed that they were dusted with gold. His iridescent midnight hair that stopped just before his shoulders, and his eyes. His goddamn eyes. His beautiful coal black eyes with gold lining. I felt my face heat up and I turned away.

He chuckled.

“Something wrong?” He probes. I shake my head a little too quickly.

“Then why are you standing in front of me?” He adds.

“You’re in my seat” I reply cooly.

“I don’t recall us having assigned seats” He says calmly.

“We don’t but…” My voice trails off.

“Well then I guess you're gonna have to find a different seat cause..” He put his feet up on the desk “this ones taken”

God, I wanted to punch him. I wanted to break his perfect nose, to hear it crack under my knuckles but instead i just took a deep breath and sat down next to him I had managed to go through the lesson without having to talk to the bastard but of course as I was packing up he had to open his mouth.

“You know what? I don't even know why they allow mortals in the school. I mean what's the point? We fae are so much better than them at...everything” He says a bit too loud for a group of kids to could hear him.

I scowled and shoved the rest of my stuff into my backpack and stormed out the classroom door.

I can’t stand him. I loathe him.

Not to bad for a first chapter done over tumblr with two people who know nothing about about eachother and have no fan fiction experience. But seriously this was a lot of fun and I hope you guys enjoyed it.

[faerytalesfromtheabyss]

It’s time for my craziest Queen of Nothing theory yet

So, I think Cardan’s going to transform into a giant snake. Literally. I know you think I’ve officially lost it, but hear me out.

We don’t know the full prophesy depicted in Cardan’s star chart, but whenever he says anything about the prophesy he always mentions one specific word: “monster.”

In the deleted scenes of TWK, Cardan thinks about his star chart: “Lord Baphen said he was going to be the ruination of the throne and a monster” (TWK 333).

Also, in “The Lament of Lutie-Loo” the short story at the end of the new bind-up edition of The Modern Faerie Tale Series, Cardan specifically mentions that he’s “prophesied to be a monster” (777).

It could be argued that Cardan is already a monster due to his cruelty or that he could become a tyrant and become a figurative monster. But The Queen of Nothing cover and the poster at Book Con with the giant snake made me think… What if becoming a monster is literal? 

So, what if Cardan turned into a giant snake? More accurately, what if he turned into a a wyrm or lindworm? (dragonlike creatures that are depicted similarly to a snake)

Faeries transforming into monsters due to extremely strong emotions are cannon in the Holly Black Fae-verse. In The Darkest Part of the Forest, one of the faeries transforms into a monster after her mortal husband is murdered: “Her grief transformed her. She became a monster, a nightmare creature of grief and sorrow” (TDPoTF 206).

Also, magical transformations are a common trope in fairytales and faery folk lore. A few stories that come to mind are: the ballad of “Tamlin” (which Holly Black’s book Tithe was inspired from), “The Prince Lindworm” and of course, “Beauty and the Beast.”

If there is a curse on Cardan, I think there’s a certain human who can break it. Here’s a quote from the Barns and Nobel description of The Queen of Nothing: “When a dark curse is unveiled, Jude must become the first mortal Queen of Faerie and uncover how to break the curse, or risk upsetting the balance of the whole Faerie world.”

Assuming that Cardan turns into a snakelike creature (I’m going to guess a lindworm), it could be an interesting adaption of the “Prince Lindworm” story. It’s one of my favorite fairy tales so I’ll just leave a link to the story here. The element that I think would be adapted from the fairy tale in TQoN is how the curse is broken. (If anyone wants to write fanfiction of this, I will sing your praises until the end of time.)

Anyways, I don’t think this theory is likely. Elfhame freezing over, Cardan transforming into lindworm and back, and the possible outbreak of war would be a lot to fit into a book that’s 300-400 pgs. 

But @fangirlinghard-spoilerson and everyone else, let me know what you think! What do you think the curse is? And what does the snake on the book cover mean?

[clockworkgraystairs]

HERE FOR YOU || Jurdan College AU Pt. 2

Warnings: None. Swearing maybe?

Tags: @slightlyrebelliouswriter23​ @aesthetics-11​ @hizqueen4life​ @duarteegreenbriar​ @mysweetvilllain​ @judexcardanxgreenbriar​ @nite0wl29​ @althekingshorses​ @thewickedkings​ @demydreamer-otaku-and-book-lover​ @thesirenwashere​ @b00kworm​ @acourtofmoonlight​ @queen-of-glass​ @random-llama-socks​ @jurdanhell​ @cardan-greenbriar-tcp​ 

[if I forgot to tag anyone or if you want to be tagged let me know!]

Summary: After finding a very ill and feverish Jude, Cardan takes her to the doctor. And deals with her usual stubbornness.

HFY Masterlist      Pt 1   Pt 2   Pt 3   Pt 4 [coming soon] 

AO3 link

My masterlist

Cardan had never liked doctors. When he was a little kid, his mother had to apologize several times because he kept glaring and calling them creepy warlocks, claiming they cured people using potions that stunk and had a sour flavor. And even though he’d got over that phase of his life, the scent of medicine still gave him a slight skittish sensation. 

Now, after nearly an hour of waiting he was definitely not enjoying himself, except that this time he couldn’t quite tell if the feeling was because of the smell or not knowing what the doctor was telling Jude, making his muscles tense more with every minute that passed.

One part of him wished nothing more than yell at her for being so reckless and not seeking for help earlier. 

The other part though, kept thinking about that morning.  

He and Jude had agreed to meet every monday and  friday at 9:00 am to work on their final project. At the beginning their meetings had place at the school’s library, since they didn’t talk much. Not because he didn’t want to, of course. But after years of confronting Jude at class, he’d learn to give her space when she focused on something. And maybe because she was a little scary too. 

Within time, her frowning glares became curious eyes and her monosyllabic answers, full conversations.

By the third month, they had to look for a new place to meet. The library’s manager, tired of scolding them at least six times a day for talking and laughing too loud, had forbid them to enter the building together. Or being together in there at all.  

That’s how they ended up in a coffee shop near the campus. The place was small and cozy. The owner, an old sweet lady called Joanne, prepared the best cappuccinos Cardan had ever tasted. 

That morning though, he hadn’t been able to take a sip of his beverage. The two cups of coffee steaming on the table seem to mock him as he alternated his gaze between them and the door, waiting for her to arrive. His leg bounced uneasily and he felt his hands sweatier than usual.

 He glanced at the clock. 9:20 am. She was already twenty minutes late. Jude was never late. 

From the kitchen, Joanne whistled cheerfully the song that came out from the speakers. An italian song he couldn’t identify. When her eyes crossed Cardan’s she smiled and gave him an encouraging nod. He shifted on his seat, looking down at the small bunch of flowers he’d bought. The white peonies and daisies rested smoothly on the wooden table.  

Damn her. Of all days, she’d chose this one to be late.

When he woke up that morning, he was thoroughly decided to finally come clean. To finally tell Jude he was in love with her.

He sent her another message. Nothing. 

He called her. No answer. Again. 

Had she forgotten? 

Impossible, they met there twice a week. 

The only possible option left in his mind was that she’d remembered. And didn’t care.  

Anger pooled on his stomach. What an idiot he felt now. They had an agreement, imposed by her by the way, of letting the other one know about any inconvenience. Was he really that insignificant for her he didn’t deserve a simple notice? 

Bottle it up, he said to himself.

That’s when he remembered she’d been absent from class those last two days too. Even professor Noggle asked about her, a thing he didn’t do with most of the students. 

Cardan frowned. In a swift move he stood and walked out. 

He left the money for the coffee on the table, and the flowers next to it. 

The door opened, bringing him back to the present. As Jude walked out of the consulting room, he noticed her pallor had decreased. Not enough to relax him, but it was something. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, raising to stand next to her. 

She shrugged. “Better, I told you it was nothing. Let’s go.”

“Ah ah,” The doctor started, closing the door behind him. “That’s not exactly what I said young lady.”

Cardan frowned at her. Seriously? Her only answer was a deep sigh and rolling eyes. 

“My exact words were that it didn’t seem like something too serious or life-threatening. Not that it was nothing.” He took a prescriptions block out of his coat and scrawled something in the front page. Jude groaned.  “It’s most likely a severe stomach flu, aggravated by the days it was left untreated. But since the fever was strong, I’d like to wait and see if it settles now.”

“Most likely?” Cardan repeated, his brows pulled together in a frown. What had he paid this clown for, then? 

“Well it’s always good to scrap any other possibility, I took a blood sample from miss Duarte so I can send it to the lab. But I don’t believe it will show any other result.”

He nodded. “So what now? We just wait?”

“Cardan.” Jude mumbled. He didn’t move his eyes from the doctor.

“Pretty much.” He handed him the prescription. “She got an injection for the temperature already. Here are scripted some pills she’ll need to take for the next three to five days, to help with the nausea. And of course, lots of water and electrolytes.”

“Thank you, I’ll get those right away.” She said as she snatched the paper from Cardan’s hand and put it away. 

“Miss Duarte, I’ll recommend you to stay under observation the next two days. Just in case the fever returns and you need immediate assistance.” 

“Of course.” Jude answered nonchalantly, already reaching for the exit. “I’ll let my sister know so she can come over. Thanks.”

Back on his car he drove in silence. ‘Never let me go’ by Florence + The Machine sounded low on the radio. With closed eyes, Jude leaned towards the open window, her brunette locks flying wildly around her head. 

Cardan glanced sidewards at her, forcing himself not to linger too much on her slightly parted lips. His mind went back to the moment she’d collapsed in his arms. Cheeks flushed and burning up in heat. Even if he never admitted it out loud, she’d scared the hell out of him. 

He pulled his attention back to the road and cleared his throat. “I thought both of your sisters were out of town. Is any of them back? I can call them if you like.”

Jude ignored his question. After a moment of silence she whispered. “Why are you doing this?” 

Cardan shrugged.  “It’s a little bit obvious isn’t it?” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “You have our full project on your laptop, Duarte. And it has a password. If you die, then how on earth am I supposed to recover it?”

A punch landed on his arm, followed by a soft chuckle. “Ass. And you don’t need to call anyone. It’s not necessary.”

“Meaning?” Now it was his turn to scowl.

“Meaning,” She sighed. “That I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, you already did more than enough. Besides you’re right, my sisters are far far away from here, right where they should.” 

He couldn’t believe his ears. Earning a honk from the car behind them, Cardan pushed the brake, leading the car aside so it could fully stop on the sideway. 

“Hey, calm down Toretto!” She shouted raggedly, grabbing the door handle for support. “What the fuck!?”

“What the fuck? That’s exactly what I’m asking you, Duarte!” Now he could fully turn to face her incredulous stare. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You passed out a couple of hours ago, you were burning up in fever. Do you realize that? Apparently not, because despite the recommendations, you still insist on not listening!” 

An exasperated sigh left his lungs. He grabbed the wheel tighter, trying to ease the growing pool of rage inside him. Calm down. He’d spent his life telling himself to calm down. Being terrible at expressing his feelings, he was used to get irritated every time he faced pain, or fear. Or pretty much anything, actually. But gods, how could she be so stubborn? 

Jude pressed her mouth into a thin line and looked down, her hands twisting faintly on her lap. She was indeed nervous about whatever illness loomed in her body, he noticed, trying to ignore the lips he so badly wanted to tug between his. 

“I’ll stay with you.” The words left his lips before he fully realized it. 

“You what? Don’t be rid-”

“The doctor said you needed to be under supervision.” He answered turning back to the road, and put his car on march again. She was probably giving him some murdering glare that he prefered to elude. “So you have two options sweetheart, either you let me stay at your place or you come back to mine, but a frat house it’s not exactly a place to rest. You are, by no means, staying alone.”

Half a second later, even the radio was muffled by her incessant ranting. Hardly determined to convince him of doing otherwise. 

Cardan just drove.

~

When he parked next to her building the sun was already setting. 

With her arms firmly folded across her chest Jude hadn’t stopped gritting her teeth all the way back. This was madness, she repeated to herself over and over. 

The man showed up out of nowhere, took her to the doctor, paid for her medicine and now wanted to stay in her apartment? No fucking way. 

The problem now, was that if there was anyone on earth even more stubborn than her, it was Cardan. A man that no matter how many times she asked him to just leave her on the sidewalk and leave, was now walking up the stairs next to her. A satisfied grin on his perfect charming face. If she didn’t feel as weak at the moment she’d slapped his way out of the place. 

Once inside she left the medicines and the gatorades on the table and turned to him. 

“For the hundredth time, Cardan. You don’t have to stay, everything is under control and I’m not feveri- what’s that?” She asked, noticing the hanging object on his shoulder.

“A backpack?” 

She rolled her eyes. “I‘m not blind, you ass. What are you doing with that backpack?”

“I always keep some extra clothes in my trunk. You know, in case I find myself in any unexpected situation.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her in a way that twisted her guts. Ugh, disgusting.

The repulse must’ve been written on her face too because he snickered for a second before throwing it next to the couch. “Becoming your hot nurse certainly fits in the category dear, you can’t deny that.” 

She blinked and pushed back the intrusive thoughts that emerged from his statement. Why was her mind against her today? Maybe the fever had burned her coherency brain cells, if she’d ever had any to begin with.

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“I know.” Cardan dropped himself on the couch, opening a book he’d taken from his pack. “Now take those pills, put on your weird pijama and go rest.” 

Maybe she could still gather the strength to slap him after all.

Trying to ignore the sour flavor that shitty pills left on her mouth, Jude stood in front of the mirror. Wearing the shorts and the t-shirt she’d put on before they went to the doctor, she found herself suddenly worried by her clothing and messy hair. 

Which was utterly absurd. It wasn’t as if he cared at all about her wardrobe choices.

Still, the idea of them sleeping under the same roof unnerved her. It had been a long time since she’d had someone from the opposite sex staying the night. Either way, her exasperating classmate certainly hadn’t crossed her mind.

She bit her lip.

Ok that was a lie. Being honest she might have thought about it a couple of times. Mostly drunk. She always felt guilty the day after. And pissed. It left her wishing she could hate him again, like she did on sophomore year when he was truly a rude idiot. But no matter how hard she’d tried, his wits and dumb jokes had slowly changed her perspective of him. Not to mention those deep dark eyes and wicked smile of his. It only took a pair of tequila shots to start fantasizing about running her lips along that jaw. FINE, it didn’t take any tequilas to do that. But sober she had a tiny bit of control over her too-creative mind. Drunk Jude had already undressed him in her dreams once. Twice?

And now Cardan was outside, lying down on her comfy couch. Staying the night.

Jude chewed her inner cheek. This was a nightmare. 

As quiet as possible, she opened the door and peered outside. He was nowhere to be seen. Maybe some ancient deity took mercy on her and vanished him to oblivion. That or he was probably in the bathroom, so she tiptoed her way to the modest kitchen. 

She’d just finished preparing her chai tea when the bathroom’s door opened. Decided to ignore him, she kept her gaze down. 

At least until she caught a glimpse of him with the corner of her eyes. That, snapped her attention back. Oh no, no no no no.

“CARDAN GREENBRIAR WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

“I...what?” 

“Could you please… I don’t know, maybe put a fucking shirt on?!” She could already feel her blood gathering on her cheeks. 

He paused and quirked an eyebrow. “For your information, Duarte, I tend to sleep naked. These pants are a sign of my consideration to you, since we’re at your place.” 

The goddamn idiot was made of marble. Jude knew he wasn’t precisely one of those big muscular men, not that it meant he didn���t have everything in place. His well formed shoulders and arms were visible even with clothes, and now she could admire the slightly marked muscles of his torso all the way down to the V that disappeared under his pine-green pants. His shoes were off too. 

“Are you blush-” He started, only to be cut by her murderous voice.

“Good night, Cardan.” Taking her cup, she crossed the place with big steps, slamming the bedroom’s door behind her. 

Leaning against the wood, she heard the couch creak as he laid down. Her breathing evened a little a few minutes after. 

Shit, that had been rude. Even if he’d imposed his presence there he was still a guest, her mind scolded her. A really hot guest. No no, don’t think of that now.

As silently as she could she opened the door again. And pressed a hand to her mouth to muffle her laugh at what she saw.  

Cardan’s legs hung over the couch’s arm. Which made sense, considering how tall he was, but right now it only looked bloody ridiculous, and kind of adorable. She tried to ignore the guilt that pierced her heart again. He seemed stiff. An idea shone on her mind. A terrible terrible idea.

“Cardan?” She whispered.

He hummed in response.

She swallowed and walked towards him. “You can’t sleep in there.”

He scoffed and looked at her through hooded eyes, dark and deep made her heart skip a beat. “If you’re trying again to convince me to leave…”

“I’m not.” Jude blurted, passing a hand over her curls. Somehow words seemed to stuck in her throat. “I mean- even when you are completely ignoring me about you not needing to be here… I guess I… What I try to say is-”

“Jude Duarte is babbling. Gods, now I’m intrigued.” He breathed, propping himself on his elbows.

She crossed her arms and tilted her head elusively. It was humiliating how easy it was for him to put her on edge. “Shut up will you? You can’t stay on the couch, it’s small and uncomfortable… And I, well, I happen to own a double bed.” 

Smooth, girl, smooth.

“Trying to lure me into your bed? So soon?” He teased, flashing her a smile, yet his joke didn’t reach his eyes. Something in them was different, they were wider, intense.

“You’re intentionally being an asshole.” She said, gritting her teeth. This time his tricky words and good looks wouldn’t affect her. She couldn’t allow it. “I just meant that we can both sleep there. Like, as far away as the bed allows but at least you could rest.”

For a second he just looked at her. Not mocking or rude, she couldn’t place the expression in his face. His jaw set, chest raising and falling slowly. “You don’t have to, Jude. I’m ok in here.”

“Don’t lie. Besides I’d feel better too. Not because- Ugh, I’d feel better knowing that I could at least make your staying more bearable, I guess.” That wasn’t so bad. Yet. And honestly she couldn’t tell if it was worse if he accepted, or refused. 

Back in her room an awkward silence filled the atmosphere as both laid side to side. Somehow, even if they were not touching, Jude could feel the heat of his skin. Her heart hammered so fast she swore he could listen to it.

“So…” He started.

Panic filled her senses, she needed to cut any conversation before saying or doing something she’d regret later. “There’s no need to mention it, just go to sleep… please.” She rolled onto her side, facing away from Cardan. “Good night.”

Jude barely heard him sigh. “Sweet dreams, Jude.”

~

It was hot. Really really hot. Fuck he couldn’t move. How much had he drank last night?

Wait. No, last night he didn’t go out with Locke. He’d said he would spend the weekend with his girlfriend, at least this month’s. Cardan had stopped mocking him for it long ago. 

Eyes still closed, he grimaced and tried to stretch but something held down his arm. As Cardan became more and more aware of his body, the memories of the day before flashed in his mind. The failed meeting with Jude, the flowers he’d spend almost an hour choosing, her body going limp against him, the useless doctor… Jude offering him her bed to sleep.  

That’s when something tickled his neck, startling him. 

No, not something.

Cardan’s eyes snapped open, he looked down and froze when he realized Jude’s body was pressed flush against him, one of her hands resting on his chest. Somehow their legs impossibly tangled. Terrified, he found his own arm encircling her waist, bare skin touching his fingers since her too big shirt had rolled up in her sleep.  

She shifted a little and her nose brushed his neck again, letting out a small breath that sent hot shivers down his body.

Any knowledge of how to move or think completely forgotten. He stared blankly at the ceiling. 

Fuck fuck fuck shit what the fucking fucks.