Chapter Text
Valerian's blank eyes stare at me. With the life drained out of then, their evil glow has faded—but even then, the curses he put on me linger.
May your hands always be stained with blood.
May death be your only companion.
Death. I knew it, of course. I am mortal, fated to waste away and rot while his body will stay pristine even in death.
Killing a High Fae has sealed that fate for me. I will die, and soon. As soon as someone notices Valerian's disappearance, the fair Folk will track me down and hang me.
Cardan will smile as he pushes the stool from under my feet, laugh as I thrash desperately and cling to the rope to save my short life.
I won't let that happen.
I cannot let him win.
If a death sentence is what awaits me, I will make my death worthwhile.
I push Valerian's body under my bed and strap on a few daggers. From my mithridatism kit, I take the vial of blusher mushroom extract.
The journey to Hollow Halls is a blur, the thundering of my blood in my ears drowning the sound of my horse's hooves hitting the mossy ground. I dismount my horse in the cover of the forest and tie the reins to a tree.
Thankfully, no guard roams the grounds. I could go through the servant's entrance, but I remember exactly where Cardan's room is from my previous trip.
I climb the lattice and unlatch his window, sliding it open as silently as I can.
On the large bed sit two figures. While I did not exactly expect him to be asleep, I wouldn’t have thought him to be… entertaining company. Lilywood, a gentry student from our class, tips a jeweled goblet of wine to Cardan's lips. A thin rivulet of it trails down his chin, mixing with the nevermore powder smeared on his neck. His hands are covered in it, as are the fae girl's clothes. Her skirts are hitched up where his hand grips her thigh, the expanse of it blooming with red lovebites. Twin marks cover Cardan's throat, a stark contrast against his pale skin.
When Lilywood turns around to place the goblet back on the nightstand, she locks eyes with me and gasps. Cardan’s head pivots limply towards me now. Surprise flash in his eyes, but he quickly schools his features into a playful grin that sends a shiver down my body.
"Care to join us, Jude?" Cardan drawls.
Lilywood raises an eyebrow at Cardan, as if she was not expecting him to want such a thing—or perhaps she is surprised he even knows my name. I know I am.
"In your dreams.”
I cannot read his expression clearly—is it… longing? It can’t possibly be. I cross my arms. The faerie girl does too.
"What do you want, mortal?" Lilywood asks, her voice dripping with anger.
"From you, nothing," I snap back without looking at her. My eyes are glued to Cardan’s, as his are on mine.
"Watch your lying mouth," Lilywood barks at me. "Prince Cardan, would you care to dismiss her?"
Cardan says nothing. His eyes are deep, his pupils dilated. From what I witnessed and the powder smeared everywhere, he must be high out of his mind. So why do I feel so stripped by his stare?
After what feels like minutes of his eyes piercing right through me, Cardan finally speaks. "As I cannot fathom why else you would come to my rooms, you must not like sharing. Selfish thing." He tsks, then waves a hand dismissively towards Lillywood. "Leave us."
Lilywood flinches, but she does not talk back. She sneers at me and mutters something as she walks to the door. I do not hear it, but Cardan snaps his head towards her with a scowl. She leaves, closing the door behind her.
In moments, I am upon him. I push him down from his sitting position. His head bangs against the headboard with a thunk . It doesn't matter, he won't live long enough for it to swell. With a shake of my wrist, the knife in my sleeve slides down and I position the point under his chin. His eyes are wide with terror as I restrain him with all my weight on his chest. If only I had something to take a picture—perhaps blackmailing could be more satisfying than killing him.
"Is this what you had in mind?" I ask innocently, with a smile meant to rival his usual smirk.
Cardan’s throat bobs, but he doesn't answer. Instead, he wiggles his body, trying to get more comfortable. I change the angle of my blade and press the sharp edge against his throat instead. If a look could kill, the look he gives me would be the one.
"What makes you think I won't scream for my brother?" He finally asks.
"You could. I just don't think he would come."
His face drops and I watch with sick satisfaction.
“You know nothing of what you speak of,” he replies with an uncharacteristic lack of confidence.
“Then why haven’t you called for help yet?”
Cardan clenches his jaw, restraining himself. I bet he wants to tell me that I don’t threaten him, but his truthful tongue cannot spell the words.
Instead, he schools his face into one of boredom, a prince expecting his servants to do his bidding. "Am I allowed one last meal before I die?"
I echo his previous question, "What makes you think I won't poison it?"
Cardan grins at this. "It would be too impersonal."
I hate him. I hate how easily he reads me. I want to slice his throat so the venom of his words spill out uselessly with his blood.
"Fine,” I spit back.
I spot the tray of food on his nightstand. Honey cakes, lush strawberries, oysters, pomegranate seeds—I feel my cheeks heat at the banquet of aphrodisiacs. Still, I guess it counts as a last meal. I reach for the tray and his hand shoots up to grab my wrist.
"Not that." His wicked smile spells trouble.
"I will not let you call for food."
"No need. I have all I crave in here."
Cardan brings my hand towards his face. His gilded lips part and he licks the tip of my mangled finger before taking it in his mouth and sucking on it. His tongue swirls around the scarred tissue and my thoughts turn downright sinful. My treacherous mind sends phantom sensations between my legs, mirroring what he does to my fingers.
“Stop that. Your… charms will not work on me," I lie—to him, to myself.
“Are you sure about that?” He cocks an eyebrow. “You haven’t killed me yet. You’re not entirely convinced yet that you should.”
“I have plenty of reasons to want you dead,” I snarl.
“Perhaps. But…” His hand roams up my arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. “I could prove myself useful.”
I slap him. He barely flinches, his depthless eyes blinking once before continuing their unrelenting staring.
He infuriates me.
"Get up," I order as I remove my blade from his throat and move from above him.
Cardan gets up and I make a point not to look too closely at him—the disheveled hair, the iridescent silk robe barely covering his naked body, the hand prints of golden dust on his torso.
I move behind him and kick him behind the knees. He falls and I take wicked pleasure in how inelegant his fall is. I hope it bruises. Where is that Fae grace now?
I fist his hair and bend his head back to look at me.
"Plead. Tell me how you could be useful.” I lean in towards him, close enough to smell the wine on his breath. “Perhaps I will spare you."
I am trying my best to scare him. I want him to tremble and cower before me, to feel half as terrified of me as I have always been of him. Instead, he looks reverent.
“My mortal enemy, I would let you slay me for a taste of you.”
The dark pools of his eyes linger on my face, intently dipping towards my lips. My own eyes scan his face for any trace of mockery. If I did not know any better, I would think him vulnerable. My gaze shifts to his lips as well, stained gold from all the substances he has consumed today. I can lie, but I cannot change facts: I have thought of kissing him before. Some of my most shameful dreams involve him, his ringed fingers exploring my body as if it was one of theirs. Unreasonable fantasies where I lose myself in him and ignore all the baggage we carry, all the cruelty and rivalry and hatred. Unreasonable, yes, but reason left me when I saw the flame extinguish in Valerian's eyes. All my years surviving in Faerie had just been borrowed time and now my breaths are counted. Before I can think twice about it, I pull his head towards me and crash my lips to his.
The angle is awkward, but neither of us pay it any mind. His wicked tongue, the one that has been tormenting me for years, explores my mouth with skill.
A whine escapes him when we part and he wastes no time turning around to face me. I am on edge—I grasp my knife tight in my fist, ready to strike if he tries to get away. Instead, he brings his hand to my nape and pulls me in again. I let passion overtake me and indulge in his deft touch. My hands wander up his chest to his shoulders, encouraging him to shrug away his robe. He removes his hands from me just long enough to undress, letting it pool at his waist where it is loosely tied.
On his knees, near-naked and panting, Cardan reaches up like a devoted servant begging his goddess. He tugs me down to his level and immediately claims my lips for a third time.
He is decadent, the indulgence of faerie wine given form. I taste the nevermore on his tongue, a honeyed temptation promising absolute power if I were to take more. Magic is not the power I crave, however. I pull away from him, his lips chasing after mine.
"What would your friends think?” I croon, “The Prince on his knees in front of a mere mortal ."
I spit the term like he often did, with all the hatred and rage he incites in me.
"My friends...” His hand toys absentmindedly with a strand of my hair. “They already think me mad.”
“Yet, they do everything you tell them to.”
I think of Valerian trying to kill me.
He raises a groomed brow, “Is this what you think?”
Cardan has tried to kill me before, too—letting Valerian choke me with the faerie fruit, throwing me in the river with the nixies.
“It is what I know.”
Cardan grabs my chin, staring at me with those devastating eyes. “You know nothing.”
I push away the hand holding my chin and stand up, rage burning in me. Without thinking, I spit in his face. His lip curls back from his teeth, then he wipes my spit away. I taste the icy tang of retribution at how disgusted he seems—the way he shifts on his knees, as if unable to keep still.
"Is this how mortals court?" he spits, his cheeks burning with barely leashed anger.
“I would never court you.”
“I suppose you do not need to,” he says pensively. Before I can ponder on the meaning of his words, he continues. “Have I proven myself worthy of life yet, or do you need further incentive to keep me alive?”
“You think your tongue is enough to convince me?” I laugh scornfully, hoping the quiver in my voice gets lost in my tone. “That it can erase years of your mockery?”
“It sure can.” The said-tongue peaks out to lick at his lips, his sharp smile filled with hidden meaning I cannot quite grasp. “Shall I prove it?”
I narrow my eyes at him, confused. When his hand brushes my thigh, my whole face burns with understanding.
His predatory gaze pins me in place. I cannot think past the burning of his hand on my thigh.
I inhale sharply and raise my chin, looking down at him through hooded eyes. "Beg for it."
His upper lip curls back from his grin. I had never noticed before how bad he is at hiding his emotions. Reluctantly, he takes my hand in both of his and looks up at me.
"Jude, would you let me feast on you?"
I soar on the power I have over him. The sight of Cardan Greenbriar at my feet, begging and hating every second of it, could fuel me for months. I sit back on the edge of his bed and nod tightly.
Cardan stumbles forward, hands grasping at my leggings. Slowly, his hands make their way up my legs, fingers digging slightly in the soft muscles of my thighs. His nimble fingers crawl under the waistband of my legging and he tugs both my leggings and underwear off in one practiced motion.
He stares for a long while, his dark eyes darting between my face and my core, between my heating cheeks and the curly brown hair protecting the delicate skin underneath. It occurs to me suddenly that he could use this moment to mock me. I let my guard down and let him take off part of my armor—he might be at my feet still, but I feel small. He does not mock me, though. I see his chest sink in a deep shuddering breath just as he reaches up and hooks his arms under my thighs.
Cardan lowers his head to my core and parts my lips with a broad sweep of his tongue. My name tumbles from his lips, along with something else I cannot quite hear. An insult, perhaps? I find I do not care.
His fingers come up to part me, his thumb settling on my nub. He devours me like his life depends on it—I suppose it does. He does not even come up for breath, ever. The sight of him between my thighs is positively depraved, so I close my eyes. It makes the sensations all the more sharp and distinct—his nose grazing my clitoris as his tongue darts in me, the long nails of his splayed hand digging into my lower back as he crushes me to his face.
I feel the coil inside me tighten, my release so, so close.
Something soft and furry brushes against my knee and I jump in surprise. I look down to find Cardan staring at me, his swollen lips glistening with my juices. His hair is an absolute mess of tangled curls—is that what tickled me? Just as the thought crosses my mind, a blurry shape whips through the air, accidentally brushing against my leg again.
His tail.
I forgot the thing even existed. Vivi had told me about it, but I never actually saw it. With every lash of his tail, the light catches on the jewelry that adorn it. I cannot look away.
Cardan clears his throat and my gaze snaps back to his.
“Is this part of your humiliation, Jude?” he drawls, though I can tell he is irritated. “I thought you wanted my absolute devotion, but it seems you want to deny my skills.”
Clearly, he has not noticed his tail lashing. I do not owe him any explanation, though. Especially when the explanation is so convoluted. It’s my first time doing this and I don’t know what I’m doing, also your tail is distracting and I kind of want to touch it.
“Well, I suppose if I am to die, I might as well work myself to death.” His tongue darts out to lick his lips clean of my juices. “Then, nobody can say I was lazy.”
I inhale sharply as I feel his finger at my entrance, teasing circles around it. Cardan is stretching the thin skin with practiced movements. I expect him to stop and laugh at me at any moment, to ridicule me: a virgin, here, in Faerieland? Pathetic. Of course, I know that virginity is a made up concept—Vivienne rants about this quite a lot. I know there is nothing physically different, yet Cardan is experienced. He knows what he is doing, and it will become increasingly clear that I do not.
“This is what you have always wanted, isn’t it, Jude darling?” He lets his teeth graze my nub. “My absolute submission. My worship.”
His finger glides easily in me, all the way to his knuckles.
“Jude,” he growls, his voice thick gravel. “You’re so wet for me.”
He pulls his finger out of me, licking his lips as he watches the slick stretch with the movement. I stare wide-eyed as he catches it with his tongue.
He is repulsive and I have never found him more attractive.
I grab a fistful of Cardan's hair and pull him up. He settles above me, his thumb never leaving my core. With his knees positioned on either side of me like that, I cannot avoid the proof of his arousal, tucked under the silk belt of his robe.
I raise my eyes slowly back to his, taking in the hard planes of his body, the golden dust I managed to avoid for years until this moment.
The smugness on his face transforms into surprise as I reach for the belt and tug it off.
Without breaking eye contact, he removes his robe completely. And when I reach out and touch him, his expression is one I never thought to see on his face: he is flustered. I wrap my hand around his shaft and squeeze lightly. The sound he makes is somewhere between a whine and a sob—so unlike anything I would have imagined from him.
His clever fingers find my heat again, this time plunging into me with two as his thumb circles my clitoris. I time my strokes with his ministrations, pumping once for every slow circle he does.
“Grip it harder,” he growls in my ear.
I do. He hisses through his teeth, then curves his fingers upwards and— oh. The sensation is strange, unlike anything I ever achieved on my own. Tears prick at my eyes and I bring my free hand to my mouth, hoping to muffle the whimper that escapes me. As soon as I do, Cardan’s own free hand grabs my wrist and pins it to the bed.
“Do you really think this is such a rare occurrence in this house that somebody would mind?” He leans close, “Moan for me. Consider it a dead man’s wish.”
I don’t have it in me to rebel, not when he increases the pressure on my bud, drawing increasingly tight circles. I tighten my own grip on his length as my hand moves up and down, tightening slightly every time I pass over his glans.
His breath is heavy in my ears as he kisses up my neck.
He’s too good at this and I hate it, I hate him —
Like flint striking steel, the sparks are small at first, almost too small to notice until the fire catches and his lips crash to mine, swallowing my moans in a sloppy kiss.
I burn, my mind floating away like smoke in the wind. I cannot control how my body jerk in response and barely notice him slipping his cock out of my hand as he strums me down to burning embers.
When Cardan pulls away, he is all teeth and smug delight.
“Sweet Jude, do you think you will forget me?”
No. “Yes.”
He is the portrait of hedonism, laying next to me and slowly licking his fingers clean. I lower my gaze in an effort to banish the image—bad idea. My eyes catch a glimpse of his cock, leaking and wanting, and I immediately look back at his face.
“Shall I leave a mark to remind you, then?” He trails a long nail down my throat. “Once I lie dead, you can brag about betraying me when I was at my most vulnerable.”
“I will not live long enough to brag.”
Cardan narrows his eyes and asks, “how come?”
I do not know what’s more absurd—having this conversation after the strongest orgasm of my life, that Cardan is the one I am about to confide in, or the fact that he was knuckle-deep in me mere seconds before my confession.
“I killed someone,” I whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear, “one of you.”
A muscle ticks in his jaw, but that is the only sign of his surprise. “I see.”
“Your father will order me dead.”
“So you came to bed and kill me, make your death worthy of legends.”
“I did not come t—”
“Oh, I think you did come, Jude darling.”
I snarl. “Fuck you.”
“I would not use those words, but I just did.” Cardan chuckles and I want to punch the smugness off his gorgeous face. “Was it not enough for your insatiable mortal appetite?”
I risk another look at his dick—still unyielding, unsatisfied—and I bite my lip. I will not beg for him. I refuse to tell him I want him, to give him more material to humiliate me with. So I reach out a hand and pull him by the hair. I kiss him hard and his hands are back on me in seconds, exploring my legs, my thighs, my ass. He reaches under my shirt and palms one of my breasts, squeezing hard enough to bruise.
I could get used to this side of hatred.
I am breaking all my safety rules by letting a faerie cage me like this. Not any faerie, either—one that has shown time and time again that he thrives on hurting me.
With a kick of his knees, he parts my legs.
Cardan lines up his tip to me and I inhale deeply. I’m doing this. We’re doing this. This means nothing to him, I remind myself. He has done this hundreds of times. This means nothing to me . Just one last thing to experience before my inevitable death.
He enters me with unexpected gentleness. He kisses my neck as he inches himself in, sometimes biting slightly as if to take my mind off of the slight pinch.
“Are you alright?” he asks once he is fully seated.
At least, I think he spoke the words. They seem so unlike him.
“Yes.”
Cardan moves then, drawing out slowly then in again with a swear. I do not think I ever heard him swear before. He sets a slow, torturous pace. Every thrust punctuated by the chant of my name, as if he needs to remind himself of his torturer’s name. It’s all too gentle, too… intimate—the tenderness with which he moves, the ardent weight of his eyes. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down to me.
“Harder,” I purr in his ear, then lick up to the pointed tip.
His whole body shudders and he obeys, pounding into me in time with the fast beat of my heart.
I kiss his jaw, then his throat, over his hickeys.
If someone caught us now, they would think I marked him.
Thankfully, nobody will catch us. Nobody must know.
Cardan’s movements become erratic, his chanting of my name now more of a whine than a curse. The next time he is fully inside me, I bite his neck. I taste blood, and I know then that I broke skin. I hope it will leave a mark—one mark to eclipse all the others.
He pulls out of me. One of his hand goes straight to my clitoris, while he strokes himself with the other. And damn me if the sight of him touching himself over my body isn’t the hottest thing I have ever seen. I shatter with a cry, and he follows me with a grunt, spilling his seed over my stomach.
Cardan rolls on his back, his chest rising rapidly as he catches his breath. I dare a look at him—blissful, spent and… unguarded.
I should slit his throat right now.
I don’t.
We lay next to each other for what feels like hours, until our breathing slows and disappears under the sound of servants finishing up their day.
Just when I think my last day alive cannot get any stranger, Cardan blurts out, “Let’s leave.”