This is something I desperately needed to write because that scene in The Wicked King left a lot of unanswered questions for me (I'm sure you know what I mean) and I decided to write an important scene from Cardan's perspective. I'm kinda mad that FanFiction doesn't have a Cruel Prince section, they desperately need to make that. Anyways, here's my shot at trying to match the perfection that is Holly Black's writing.
(I don't own any of the Folk of that Air characters, thought I wish to everything holy that I did)
The moment Jude left, Cardan continued vomiting up his guts. He racked his brain on who poisoned him, but all he could think about was Jude. How he missed her when she was spirited away to the Undersea. How he'd wanted to run his fingers through her hair. How she looked in that dress. How she tasted when he kissed her. He'd give anything to be poisoned again, just to be kissed by her once more.
His gaze landed on the unstoppered vial of clay The Bomb had given him. Hopefully she or Jude would be coming back with the antidote soon, for he didn't know how much longer he was going to last. He could feel the wraithberry slowly breaking down his blood. Soon, that blood in his body would cease flowing to his brain.
He didn't know how long he was laying on the floor, his head hunched over the bucket. He'd lost track of the amount of times he'd dry heaved, when he heard the door to Jude's chambers creak open to reveal pale hair, The Bomb.
In her hand, she carried a small vial containing what he hoped was the antidote. If he wasn't so drained from the poison, he would've snapped at her, asking what took so long. At this point, all he wanted was to drink himself into a stupor with more bottles of sickly-sweet alcohol than he could count on his own two hands.
At this moment, Cardan's body decided it was an opportune time to begin coughing, ones that coursed through his body. The Bomb frowned, her delicate features twisting into a look of mild concern. Cardan wanted to bark out a laugh - he didn't need her pity, nor her comforting words - but he knew it was foolish.
All he could do was tip his head back so it rested against the couch behind him, and try not to feel the roiling in his stomach. The Bomb muttered some words to him, and the only thing he could make out was, "Jude will be here soon." If Dain were still alive, he'd laugh if he saw the predicament Cardan was in, and he wouldn't blame him. Never in a million years did he think a mere mortal would be the cause of his troubles.
He'd been the one to swipe the drink from Balekin's rough hand, he'd brought the goblet to his lips. All because of the drunkard he was and that he couldn't get his mind off Jude. Jude, Jude, Jude, Jude, Jude.
The Bomb instructed him to open his mouth to let the antidote into his system. He reluctantly obeyed. He felt the first drop of the thick, bitter, honey-like concoction on his tongue and greedily opened his mouth wider. Cardan felt the instant relief hit him like the harsh winds of Insweal, and The Bomb guided him onto the couch.
Just as he was able to fully settle on the chaise, a guard burst into the room, asking for the Bomb, saying there was an emergency. She left immediately.
It was some time, but the door opened again and he was hit with the smell of her. He couldn't describe it, but the smell was distinctly her. It was nothing like the powdery perfume smells of the courtly ladies, those smells itched his nose.
"I need to ask a favor of you," her voice came out small, as if she were trying on a pair of her mother's shoes as a child, awkward and out of place. As if she wasn't sure of herself. Which Cardan found strange, Jude was always sure of herself, in whatever situation she was in. That was one of the things he liked best about her. He shook it off as the poison making his brain do odd things.
"Yes, Jude dear, your wish is my command," a quicksilver smirk forming on his face. "Or should I say, your command is my command?" His grin was sharp now, like the edge of the blade she'd pressed up against his throat after the butchering of his entire family.
Even facing away from her, Cardan could feel the pressure her eyes left on his back, and turned around. He stopped, something was different about her. But no, she still had the same luminous brown eyes, long dark lashes, slightly flushed plump lips, red-brown hair that looked soft to touch.
His words toward her the evening of the Hunter's Moon came flooding back. "Some among us do not find mortals beautiful. In fact, some of you might swear that Jude is unlovely. But I believe it is only that her beauty is...unique. Excruciating. Alarming. Distressing." As soon as the words came from his mouth, he instantly regretted them, but he couldn't take them back, least not in front of the whole Court.
It wasn't that he found her mortal beauty unique, it was much more than that. He found her resplendent, alluring, breathtaking. Unlike anything he'd ever seen in his life spent in Faerie, and there were lots of beautiful Fae to tempt him, but no one else made Cardan's heart skip a beat the way Jude did. She made him catch his breath whenever he was around her. And to be honest, he feared her.
So what made this time any different. She had changed out of her dress, into a much more Jude-like outfit with a doublet and tight-fitting pants, but there was something that he couldn't place his finger on.
"I-I have a plan of sorts." Her voice came out wobbly but she suddenly righted herself. "I would like you to grant my father a half of your army and to give him full indepence over it. But to do so, you must free him of his vows to the crown." Her eyes flashed and he suddenly noticed a peculiar set of earrings dangling from her lobes. A moon and a star.
Even with all the doubt coursing through his veins, he trusted her. He trusted Jude. The mortal girl who made him tear out his hair in frustration at times. The same Jude who betrayed him the moment she placed that crown on his head.
He paused, drinking her in. "I'll do it. For you, Jude. But may I warn you that this is the first and only time I do something like this. Do not expect me to grant you any more boons."
The look on her face shifted between satisfaction and uncertainty. Perhaps, he shouldn't have agreed, maybe he was a fool. A fool in love, like the mortal saying. Jude nodded swiftly and backed out of the room, letting the door fall closed with a soft click.
Cardan finally allowed himself to bring his head into his hands and let out a low groan. His head was pounding, the feeling similar to the morning after a night filled with multiple bottles of wine and spirits.
After a while, he heard the door open and close. Heard their footfalls on the floors below and turned to see Jude again. But this time, she was back in the dress she was wearing at the beginning of the night. And, the light may have been playing tricks on him, but he could've sworn there was a splatter of blood on her left sleeve.
If he'd had the energy, he would have quirked a brow and given a smart remark about how she would be great in a one-woman show, changing out of all her ensembles. But, all he could do was muster a grimace of pain. "Your dress. You put it back on."
She looked at him in confusion and the expression on her face was genuine. A heavy stone settled itself deep in Cardan's stomach but he fought to acknowledge it.
"Did something happen?" she asks.
Did something happen? he thought, well I sure hope so. I just granted your father a rather important boon. I ensured his safety.
The confusion on her face morphed into complete and utter bafflement and he realized he'd voiced the statement aloud. He made a note to himself to drink less often around Jude, less all his secrets come tumbling out onto the floor for her to scrutinize.
She came to sit beside him on the couch, near his feet. His body screamed at him to make her sit closer to him, to just be near. But if he gave into that part of himself, he'd have to give into every other brazen desire he'd had about her, and he won't do that.
The more she spoke to him, the more Cardan became troubled and so he tried to explain what happened when she came in earlier. As he continued explaining, her face began to mirror how he felt inside; the stone in his stomach settled even further until it was too painful to ignore.
He flashed back to when she first appeared in his room, asking for the favor. The way she nervously shifted her weight to one side, very unlike Jude. The way her voice was unsure, very unlike Jude. The puzzle pieces in his brain finally came together in the crippling realization of what had just happened.
"Taryn." It was Taryn who had come into his room asking him to grant Madoc freedom from the crown. The gravity of the situation poured down on him like a harsh winter storm. He'd just given Madoc an invitation to make his move against the crown.
The despair must've shown on his face for her brows moved together and she tried to regain her composure. "But how did she make you agree? She had no power."
"I trust you. She didn't have to command me, Jude. Or use any kind of magic. I trusted you."
She looked as though he'd hit her with a ton of bricks. He could practically see the thoughts running through her head. While he was poisoned and disoriented, Madoc made his move against the crown, and he did it with his daughter, Taryn, by his side.
Whoo, that was something, let me know what you think.