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You made me the High King, Jude. Let me be the High King. I lie awake unaccustomed to sleeping during the dark hours as they do here in the mortal world. I'm tormented by my foolishness. Cardan's words echo through my head. They play in a loop that seems to repeat with each ache of my heart. Each thrum of anger that pulses through my entire body.

When I shut my eyes I hear him. Marry me. Become the Queen of Elfhame. My idiocies sicken me. I should have known. I should have known Cardan plays dirty; laying low, acting as the drunken fool. A boy, made King. When all along he schemed just as much as was in my own nature. Striking when I was down.

I roll to my back with a sigh and stare up at the ceiling of Oak's room-Oak sprawled out beside me on the double bed, clutching some kind of action figure toy. He stirs at my movement. I don't want to wake him so I force myself to close my eyes and will sleep to come.

But the memories play out like vivid dreams...

"It's simple," He says, moving to the edge of the chair. "We pledge out troth. I'll go first—unless you wish to wait. Perhaps you imagined something more romantic." He slides my ruby ring off his finger. "I, Cardan, son of Eldred, High King of Elfhame, take you, Jude Duarte, mortal ward of Madoc, to be my bride and my queen. Let us be wed until we wish for it to be otherwise and the crown has passed from our hands."

Catching my hand, he slides the ring on. The exchange of rings is not a faerie ritual, and I am surprised by it. "Your turn," he says into the silence. He gives me a grin. "I'm trusting you to keep your word and release me from my bond of obedience after this."

My hand tightens on his as I speak, "I, Jude Duarte, take Cardan, High King of Elfhame, to be my husband. Let us be wed until we don't want to be and the crown has passed from our hands."

He kisses the scar of my palm.

I still have his brother's blood under my fingernails.

I don't have a ring for him.

Above us, the buds are blooming. The whole room smells of flowers. "Cardan, son of Eldred, High King of Elfhame, I forsake any command over you. You are free of your vow of obedience, for now and for always."

Cardan stands then. The light that eminates off the lanterns catches his eyes in a shine. I see no trickery or malice there as when I was mockingly crowned the Queen of Mirth.

I stand too, "Is that it then?" I ask feeling almost disappointed in the insignificance or simplicity of these vows. The only acknowledgment having been the few blooms that appeared in the vines over our heads as we spoke them.

He straightens out his loose, dark tunic in that arrogant way of Gentry. Tugs at an errant thread-a faerie way of lying, by deceiving in their mannerisms-feigning boredom, "Of course not." he replies nonchalantly, "The vows must be bound by consummation."

His eyes meet mine then with a mischievous gleam although his face portrays all seriousness.

I think my heart just stuttered. For a moment I thought he was surely mocking. But before I could laugh I quickly realize this was no jest at my expense. I hope that he cannot sense the fear that has spiked through me.

"Consummation?"

"Of course."

I look past Cardan's shoulder beyond the sitting room through the double doors, where the frame of his bed is just visible. I think of Taryn and Locke. Of how the guests of their wedding waited as their vows were exchanged in private. I think of Locke pressing my twin down into his bed and shudder. Then I think of Cardan and me in the room beside the throne room, how Cardan lay me back against the lounge, how I pulled him over me.

My face heats, "Now?"

"Yes?" Cardan replies matter of factly. He gestures at the chambers of the High King as if to say: we are here and we are alone and the vows have been made and it is to be done, so why not now?

He holds his hand out to me.

"Is this another terrible idea?" I muse aloud. I step closer, accepting Cardan's hand.

That wicked mouth of his curls up in a grin, "Absolutely" he replies.

I follow him sheepishly through the doors of the sitting area. The High King's rooms are dark-no matter day or night-being under the hill as most of the Palace of Elfhame is. The furniture is carved of solid dark wood, polished in a high shine that glints off the light of the fire. The fire place is built into the slate of the wall opposite the bed. A rug woven of the soft fluff of dandelion and stained the red of rowan berries covers most of the wood floor.

From the back of a large throne-like chair that sits beside a low rectangular table, Cardan gathers up a heavy, thick velvet throw in a blue so dark it's nearly black. He lays it almost ceremoniously atop his bed. He then slips out of his boots and turns to me, "Will you lie with me?"

I don't hesitate as I slide beneath the warm down covers of Cardan's bed. Even though a nervousness runs through me. I am expecting a trick. I know faerie well and Cardan even better. And a mortal girl could not become a Queen of Faerie...could she?

He settles beside me. I am nervous, scared, wary of a trick but yet...but yet this sickening desire.

Is this truly happening? Am I really to become...it feels almost blasphemous to say. I try to focus on settling my breathing in attempt to slow my racing pulse. Cardan shifts to his side. He tips my face up toward his with a long, ringed finger; the sharp point of his nail nearly piercing my flesh.

I dare to look at him.

To meet his gaze.

The black kohl that lined his eyes from the revel is now smudged in haunting shadows against his pale complexion, "Tell me, Jude. Do you hate me still?"

His voice is a quiet caress against my ear and his hand wanders to my shoulder. I turn into him. Nearly nose to nose, my voice trembles in a whisper, "I hate you still Cardan. My dreams are filled of your death by my hand."

I run my mouth along his throat, breathe him in.

Cardan shudders.

"Even the very scent of you repuls—" Cardan's inhuman fingers grasp my face and fiercely pull my mouth up to his, stealing my breath before I can finish.

His kiss is hard.

An unrelenting release of anger, repulsion, hate; of frustration and lust. He urges my lips to part and when I allow his tongue to slip across mine he groans. I feel the vibration from his chest against my own.

I recall his kiss from the revel, how he tasted of poison. He does not taste of poison now, not even a lingering hint. I reach up to tangle my fingers through his loose dark curls and try not to make a sound when his tongue passes over my lips again.

And again.

He tastes of honey wine. It intoxicates me. I recall briefly of my humiliating desire for the everapple Locke forced upon me. But I don't care. I want more.

I tug at the hem of his tunic and he sits up and pulls it up over his head in one fluid movement.

I hate how my hands tremble as I smooth them over his chest and bravely let them pass lower, lingering against his stomach and then up his arms. My eyes are drawn to his lips. I want his cruel, sullen mouth back on mine.

"Do you trust me?" Cardan asks. I glance up at him, meet his eyes which dance with a wicked gleam. He pulls at the ties of my dressing gown, the one that I embarrassing was not permitted the chance to change out of at Cardan's behest of urgency.

I swallow, "Cardan, I have never..."

"Oh of that I am well aware."

He lazily sweeps the fabric of my robe apart. I try not to panic at this exposure. He has seen me before. He has seen most of me. And he has touched me. New feelings rise up at the memory of that touch, good feelings. And even better feelings as Cardan traces the shape of my curves with a finger. Around the swell of my breasts and then down and over the dip and swell of my waist and hips.

"Curse the fullness of you, Jude. Which caught my eye when they first began to take shape on you." His hand, and then with intense surprise, his mouth close over parts of me that cause my fingers to dig into his flesh.

I always found shame in the shape of myself and Taryn, the women and the men of faerie are of such a willowy build, long and lean. I disliked my full breasts, hips, and thighs. Not anymore.

Cardan urges me to my back, he pauses to meet my eyes. But before he can ask I pull him over me, pull that wicked mouth down to mine, thread my fingers into his hair.

I want this, I think.

I want him, I admit.

I think I've wanted him for a very long time. And it's incredulous to think we are even here right now, doing what we are doing , in secret. In the quiet hours just before daylight. Cardan's kiss has turned feverish in a way that has made me gasp when he pulls away. I am caged in his arms and he is looking down at me naked beneath him. His eyes tell a thousand stories of lust. Of all the ways he could devour me.

"This is definitely the worst idea we've ever had." I whisper lightheartedly.

"Oh, it is." He agrees with a breathless laugh.

I pull at the laces of his loose linen trousers and he makes a sound in his throat akin to a whimper. Our eyes lock.. I dare myself to push down on the waist band. He smiles. A slow, knowing smile. An arrogant, prideful smile.

A sinful smile as he removes them completely.

How has this cruel prince, now king, who hated me so thoroughly, and I him, made me his queen? How have we come to this?

Cardan urges my legs apart by sliding his knee between them. I let him. I let him settle there like that. Propped up on trembling arms, he guides my hand down between us, to him, to touch him.

And then I guide him to me, pulling him down to me, letting him put his weight against me because I need his kiss, I need to taste him, to claw at his back and into his dark mess of tousled hair when our bodies connect.

Because with each slow and careful movement he makes I find it impossible to bite back those embarrassing sounds. Those moans and sighs and whimpers and the pant of my breath. Can't I quiet myself?

I feel almost as intoxicated as I'd had a drink of faerie wine...to share this intimacy with someone, this closeness, this connection...

Over Cardan's shoulder the ceiling flourishes in blooms—from new green buds to full fragrant blossoms. Soft, pale petals began to rain down around us but Cardan doesn't seem to care or notice for his gaze is intent on my face, the flush of my cheeks, the sheen at my brow, my teeth sunk into my bottom lip.

"Are you okay?" He speaks softly against my ear.

With simply a nod, I urge him to continue by pressing against his lower back. Something soft and warm brushes my leg beneath the sheets. Cardan's tail curls against me. Intrigued, I slide my hand down the length of it, down to the furred tip. At that, his weight presses down on me and his hand tightens nearly painfully on my hip before quickly letting go.

After a moment he moves to his back and urges me to his side. I can feel his heart thundering with exertion. The flowers and the petals catch his attention then, brows raised in surprise. Both of us are nearly covered in petals but pays he chooses to ignore it, instead he turns to me in the near dark, black eyes searching mine and asks again, "Are you okay?"

"Yes." I reply but he is nearly asleep already. As am I. I'm drawn under a dreamless sleep by the overwelling events of this night. And tomorrow Cardan will learn of Balekin. He will know I spilled his brother's blood. And he will be displeased with me.

Disclaimer: All characters and direct quotes belong to Holly Black. A large portion contains direct quotes from "The Wicked King" and I do not claim them as my own.

Thank you for reading :)