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devi1sange1 · 5 months ago

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The Cruel Prince: My Favorite Jurdan Moments

A selfish compilation because I want to look at this and smile in the future (it’s like, all the moments.)

Ch. 3

Prince Cardan, sixth-born to the High King Eldred, yet still the absolute worst, strides across the floor towards us.

As Cardan walks past the boy, apparently done with him, I am grateful that Cardan has five more worthy brothers and sisters; it’s practically guaranteed that he’ll never sit on the throne. I don’t want to think of him with more power than he has.

Ch. 4

And Cardan is even more beautiful than the rest, with black hair as iridescent as a raven’s wing and cheekbones sharp enough to cut out a girls heart. I hate him more than all the others. I hate him so much that sometimes when I look at him I can hardly breathe.

Ch. 5

Cardan’s gaze catches mine, and I can’t help the evil smile that pulls up the corners of my mouth. His eyes are bright as coals, his hatred a living thing, shimmering in the air between us like the air above black rocks on a blazing summer day.

Ch. 7

Cardan watches me. Although he doesn’t lift a finger, I know this is all his doing. In his eyes, I see all the vast alieness of Faerie. “Is this fun?” I call to the shore. I am so furious that there’s no room for being scared. “Are you enjoying yourselves?” “Enormously,” says Cardan.

Ch. 8

I leave my books and cross the grass towards them. Cardan half turns and I shove him so hard that his back hits one of the trees. His eyes go wide. […] For a moment, Cardan just stares at me with stupid, crow-black eyes. Then one corner of his mouth curls. “Oh,” he says. “You’re going to regret doing that.”

Ch. 9

I keep thinking of the lazy blink of Cardan’s lashes over his coal-bright eyes. He looked gleeful, gloating, as though my fist tightening on his shirt was exactly what he would have wished. As though if I struck him, it would be because he made me do it.

“Get down on your knees,” Cardan says, looking insufferably pleased with himself. His fury has transmuted into gloating. “Beg. Make it pretty. Flowery. Worthy of me.”

“I am going to keep on defying you. I am going to shame you with my defiance. You remind me that I am a mere mortal and you are a prince of Faerie. Well, let me remind you that means you have much to lose and I have nothing. You may win in the end, you may ensorcell me and hurt me and humiliate me, but I will make sure you lose everything I can take from you on the way down. I promise you this” —I throw his own words back at him—“this is the least of what I can do.” Cardan looks at me as though he’s never seen me before. He looks at me as though no one has ever spoken to him like this. Maybe no one has

Ch. 11

Abruptly, Valerian is kicked off me. I roll onto my side, coughing, Cardan is looming there. […] “Enough,” Cardan says. He has an odd, wild expression on his face and a muscle is jumping in his jaw.

Looking up at Cardan though, something strikes me wrong. His eyes are glittering with fury and desire and maybe even shame. A moment later, he blinks, and it’s just his usual chilly arrogance.

Ch. 12

My stomach lurches. They’re going to beat him. I should be glorying in seeing Cardan like this. I should be glad that his life sucks, maybe worse than mine, even though he’s a prince of faerie and a horrible jerk and probably going to live forever. If someone had told me that I’d get an opportunity to see this, I would have thought the only thing I’d have to stifle was applause. But watching, I cannot help observing that beneath all his defiance is fear. […] It doesn’t make me like him any better, but for the first time he seems real. Not good, but real.

Ch. 14

I take the folded-up paper from behind my pillow. Smoothing it out, I see Cardan’s furious, arrogant handwriting scrawled over the page, taking up all the available space. In some places he pressed the nib so angrily that the paper tore. Jude, it reads, each hateful rendering of my name like a punch to the gut. Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude Jude…

Ch. 15

And my own name, written over and over and over. I thought I knew how much Cardan hated me, but looking at that paper, I realized I had no idea. And he’d hate me even more still if he knew I had seen him on his knees, beaten by a human servant. A mortal, for an extra bit of humiliation, an extra dose of rage. “Jude?” Oriana says, and I realize that I’ve been staring off toward a window and the fading light. […] “And just who are you thinking about with a dreamy expression like that on your face?” Oriana asks, which makes Vivi laugh again.

He looks well practiced in hiding pain.

Ch. 16

His eyes narrow at the blood, and he points the wooden stick at me. “You seem to have cut yourself.” […] I take the knife out from under my tunic and show it to him, stained a flinty red. I smile “I could cut you, too.”

At that moment, Cardan’s gaze goes to me. His eyes are barely open, but I can see the shine of them, wet as tar. He watches me as the girl kisses his mouth, watches me as she slides her hand beneath the hem of his silly, ruffle shirt.

Ch. 18

“Do you know what he said when I told him you’d stabbed me? He told me it was no more than what I deserved.” That’s impossible; Valerian must have misunderstood, Cardan must have been mocking him for letting me under his guard.

Ch. 20

His hand slides lower on my hip. I narrow my eyes at him. “You really hate me, don’t you?” He asks, his smile growing. “Almost as much as you hate me,” I say, thinking of the page with my name scratched on it. Thinking of the way he looked at me when he was drunk in the hedge maze. The way he’s looking at me now.

Ch. 21

“You’re moral,” he informs me. […] “It’s not safe for you here. Especially if you go around stabbing everyone.” “Not safe for me?” Absurdity if the statement aside, I have no idea why he’s acting as though he’s ever thought about my safety for a moment, except to endanger it.

Right now, he doesn’t even seem to care about himself.

“Get down here before you’re recognized.” “Playing hide-and-seek under the table? Crouching in the dirt? Typical of your kind, but far beneath my dignity.” He laughs unsteadily, like he expects I am going to laugh too. I don’t. I ball up my fist and punch him in the stomach, right where I know it will hurt. He staggers to his knees.

My heart is hammering from the bloodshed, from Cardan being so close, from striking him without consequences.

With a sigh, I take down my braids, rubbing my hands through my hair until it hangs wild in my face. “You look…” he says, and then trailing off, blinking a few times, not seeming able to finish.

When I return, Cardan is swilling down more wine, his gaze burning into me. I have no idea what he sees, what he’s even looking for.

And then, once we’re in the empty hall in the upper level of the palace, I turn and press the point of my knife directly underneath his chin. “Jude?” He asks, up against the wall, pronouncing my name carefully, as though to avoid slurring. I am not sure I have ever heard him use my actual name before.

Ch. 22

I press the top of the knife against his skin so he can feel the bite. His black eyes focus on me with new intensity. “Why?” he asks. Just that.

“I suppose you were right after all.” He studies my face, giving nothing away on his own. “I suppose I didn’t know the least of what you could do.”

My lip curls, but otherwise I keep my expression as mask-like as I know how, as cruel and cold as the face that reoccurs in my nightmares. It is only as I do it that I realize who I am aping, whose face frightened me into wanting it for my own. His.

I hate how I feel around him, the irrational panic when I touch his skin.

As I watch, the tail forms one wavering curve after another, snaking back and forth, betraying his cool face, telling its own story of uncertainty and fear. I can see why he hides that think away.

Ch. 25

Cardan grins at me as though we’ve been great friends all our lives. I forgot how charming he can be—and how dangerous that is.

It occurs to me that if I kill him, I can finally stop thinking about him, I won’t have to feel like this anymore.

He holds up his hands in protest, long bare fingers splayed. I am the one with the royal ring. “I’m nervous, he says. “I smile a lot when I’m nervous.”

“You are terrifying.”

I draw down the collar of my shirt so he can see where Valerian tries to strangle me. […] He reaches towards me, as though he’s going to run his fingers over the bruises.

He leans in and closes his eyes. “Most of all, I hate you because I think of you. Often. It’s disgusting, and I can’t stop.” I am shocked into silence. “Maybe you should shoot me after all,” he says, covering his face with one long-fingered hand.

I lean toward him, close enough for a kiss. His eyes widen. The look on his face is some commingling of panic and desire.

“You really do want me,” I say, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath as it hitches. “And you hate it.” I change the angle of the knife, turning it so it’s against his neck. He doesn’t look nearly as alarmed by that as I might expect. Not nearly as alarmed as when I bring my mouth to his.

Ch. 26

But kissing Locke never felt the way that kissing Cardan does, like taking a dare to run over knives, like an adrenaline string of lightning, like the moment when you’ve swum too far out in the sea and there is no going back, only cold black water closing over your head.

I can feel the moment he gives in and gives up, pulling me to him despite the threat of the knife. He kisses me hard, with a kind of devouring desperation, fingers digging into my hair.

It’s like fighting, except what we’re fighting for is to crawl inside each other’s skin

That’s the moment when terror seizes me. What kind of insane revenge is there in exulting his revulsion? And worse, far worse, I like this. I like everything about kissing him—the familiar buzz of fear, the knowledge I am punishing him, the proof he wants me.

“Is that what you imagined?” I ask, and am relieved to find that my voice sounds harsh. “No,” he says tonelessly. “Tell me,” I say. He shakes his head, somewhere chagrined. “Unless you’re really going to stab me, I think I won’t. And I might not tell you even if you were going to stab me.”

“After our kiss, I am such a fool over you that I can hardly contain myself,” I tell him with as much sarcasm as I can muster. “All I want to do is nice things to make you happy. Sure, I’ll make whatever bargain you want, so long as you kiss me again. Go ahead and run. I definitely won’t shoot you in the back.” He blinks a few times. “Hearing you lie outright is a bit disconcerting.”

When I look back, I see Cardan’s hands are deftly splitting the deck of cards, but his glittering black eyes are on me.

“I’m going to stay here, with you. You’ve got a plan right?” […] “Cardan said that you did. That if you were just making a trade, you would have done it already. And if you were going to betray us, you’d have done that by now, too.”

As the Bomb said, Cardan is stretched out on one, looking sickeningly handsome.

“Go away. You told me you wouldn’t kill me if I answered your questions, and I did.” He doesn’t sound like the boy who kissed me, sick with desire, just hours ago. He sounds sleepy, arrogant, and annoyed.

He stands, shouldering on his jacket, and then follows me into Dain’s office. Once we’re there, he leans against the doorjamb. His eyes are heavy-lidded, his hair messy from the bed. Just looking at him makes me feel hot with shame. “You sure you brought me here just to talk?” It turns out that having kissed someone, the possibility of kissing hangs over everything, no matter how terrible an idea it was the first time. The memory of his mouth on mine shimmers in the air between us.

He tips his head back, looking at me through dark lashes. “Maybe living together is the reason we don’t get on.” “I don’t like you either,” I remind him. “So you’ve said.” He gives me a lazy grin.

I think of all the strangeness of his being here, sleeping in homespun sheets, wearing the same closes for days on end, eating bread and cheese, and not complaining about any of it. It almost seems like he prefers a nest of spy’s and assassins to the splendor of his own bed.

Ch. 27

“So I am to sit here and feed you information,” Cardan says, leaning against a hickory tree. “And you’re to go charm royalty? That seems entirely backward.” I fix him a look. “I can be charming. I charmed you, didn’t I?” He rolls his eyes. “Do not expect others to share my depraved tastes.”

Despite myself, I smile. It’s bizzare to be in this with Cardan, of all people. And weirder still for him to talk with me this way, as he might to Nicasia or Locke.

He grabs hold of my wrist. I am shocked by the sensation of his skin warm against mine.

I frown at him. “But they’re not part of the High Court. They haven’t sworn to the crown.” “Exactly,” Cardan says, reaching out a finger to trace the shape of my ear. The curve, I realize. I shudder, eyes closing against the hot spike of shame. He keeps talking, but he seems to realize what he’s been doing and snatches his hand away. Now we’re both ashamed.

Ch. 28

“It surprised me,” I say honestly. “I wanted to think Dain was different.” Cardan snorts and takes the silver cup that was meant for me as well as his own.

We go over the plans again, and Cardan helps us map out Hollow hall. I try not to be too conscious of his long fingers tracing over the paper, of the sick thrill I get when he looks at me.

Ch. 29

“My prince,” it says. “My door,” he says in return, with a smile that conveys both affection and familiarity. It’s bizzare to see his obnoxious charm used for something other than evil.

Cardan tucks my arm firmly through his before striding into the entryway, and I feel a rush of warmth as I match his step. I can’t afford to be less than ruthlessly honest with myself. Against my better judgement, despite the fact that he is terrible, Cardan is also fun.

He’s supposed to look regal. I helped choose the clothes, helped make him this way, and yet the effect is not lost on me.

“Jude here made me her prisoner,” he says, and I have to fight down the urge to step heavily on his foot. “She ties very tight knots.”

Her eyes widen, taking in whom I am standing with. Something passes over her face, and it looks a lot like resentment. She has locke, but I am here with a prince.

Ch. 30

“Have I told you how hideous you look tonight?” Cardan asks, leaning back in the elaborately carved chair, the warmth of his words turning the question into something like a compliment. “No,” I say, glad to be annoyed back into the present. “Tell me.” “I cannot,” he says, then frowns. “Jude?” I may never be used to the sound of my name on his lips. His brows draw together. “There’s a bruise coming upon your jaw.”

“Phase four,” Cardan whispers to me, still believing we’re on the same side.

Cardan looks at me with helpless rage. Then, the full minute of my command up, he rises slowly to his feet. The fury in his eyes is familiar, the glitter of them like banked fire, like coals burning hotter than flames ever could. This time I deserve it. I promised he was going to be able to walk away from the court and all its manipulations. I promised he would be free from all this. I lied.

Yet I am surprised when he turns to me, eyes blazing. It feels as though the room is empty but for us. He lifts his glass anew, mouth curving in a mockery of a smile. “And to Jude, who gave me a gift tonight. One that I plan to repay in kind.”

Epilogue

He rises from the throne. “Come, have a seat.” His voice is replete with danger, lush with menace. The flowering branches have sprouted thorns so thickly that petals are barely visible. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” He asks “What you sacrificed everything for. Go on. It’s all yours.”

#Jurdan #the cruel prince #the folk of the air #tfota #this is like all the moments I fear #I’m obsessed ok?#jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #Jurdan moments #moodboard

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