Four
Over the next few days, Cardan said very little and spent most of school watching Jude. His back hurt still, the nerves not fully healed where Balekin had beaten him and he felt extremely sorry for himself.
He also felt clearer-headed. Such was the way it always was. When Balekin had punished him heavily, Cardan knew there would be a short respite from it all. And he tried to make the most of those respites, tried to relish the calm.
"She is a disgrace," said Nicasia once, catching Cardan staring at Jude. "She ought to be punished."
Cardan said nothing. It was the kind of thing he might have said in the past himself, a type of conversation he had often indulged in about any number of folk who he had perceived to have slighted him.
Though he rarely followed through and today he had no taste for it.
And what could he say anyway?
He dreamt not of Jude's punishment, but of her kindness. Her fingers brushing softly over his skin, her lips pressing gently into his neck, her tongue whispering that she would keep him safe.
It was a fantasy, but he had never wished anything to be more real.
-O-
Perhaps Cardan should have paid Nicasia's words more attention than he did, because the next day, Nicasia slapped Jude during lessons and it was so sudden, Cardan didn't know how to react.
And then he felt furious. A fury he had not felt before except in Balekin's presence.
There was something so very wrong about it. Nicasia hurting Jude. Nicasia who had betrayed him. Nicasia who had no loyalty. And Jude who had too much.
And then Valerian grabbed a golden apple and Cardan's body told him to get up. Told him that Nicasia and Valerian may have had a coversation that he had not been a part of. A conversation about how to punish Jude for Cardan's benefit.
And he had no doubt it was for his benefit. Nicasia had been trying to ingratiate herself with him for weeks, as though he would just forget she had chosen Locke over him if she just laughed too much at his jokes or nodded too frequently at his plans.
As Valerian stalked over to Jude, Cardan followed not sure what Valerian was going to do and also not sure what the consequences of it would be. For Jude and for him. Valerian seemed to hate Jude more than any of them.
Valerian bumped into Jude and Cardan's veins fizzed. And then whilst the rest of the class were looking up at shooting stars, Valerian forced the fruit against Jude's mouth.
At first, Cardan didn't know what to do. It was a cowardly sort of act — using the weakness of mortals against them.
And he did not crave it. He did not crave Jude beyond herself, out of her mind, ensorcelled by word or by taste.
It was no victory if she could not surrender.
Jude gurgled an undignified snort, trying to wipe the apple away. Then she fumbled furiously for her basket. Her salt. To save herself.
Cardan got a sudden urge to help her, even with all these folk watching him, but Nicasia pulled the basket away and Valerian grabbed Jude's arm, forcing her down against the grass, pushing the golden fruit against her teeth.
Cardan watched horrified.
This was not what he wanted.
Not at all.
"Do something!" someone shouted.
And Cardan surprised himself by acting. He kicked Valerian in the side with a satisfying clunk.
"Enough," growled Cardan as Valerian guffawed, rolling off Jude.
Cardan thought suddenly of catching Jude around the waist again, of taking her somewhere safe — perhaps his rooms in Hollow Hall so she could recover.
He grabbed the salt from her basket, overcome with longing and desire and fear. He could take her there now.
But Valerian rounded on him. "Ruin my fun will you?" he growled.
Cardan realised suddenly that he had put himself in danger. For Jude.
Jude who was laughing.
What was he thinking? She wouldn't thank him for this. He would make enemies of his friends, ruin his reputation for cruelty — the only shred of power he had.
All for fantasies that were not real. Fantasies that Jude would laugh at him for.
If he gave her the salt, she would still hate him. If he took her to Hollow Hall, she would probably leave.
She would not kiss him. Or caress his back between Balekin's wounds.
He wished she would, but she would not.
He opened the salt shaker and threw the contents into the air with a self-mocking laugh. What a fool he was sometimes? What a pathetic, weak fool?
Valerian growled again and Cardan looked at him. "What's wrong with you Valerian?" he sneered. "If she dies then your little prank is over before it begins."
It was the only protection he could allow himself to give Jude. Perhaps if she had truly come to his rooms, perhaps if he truly believed she would behave as she did in his fantasies, he could have done more.
It was hard to tell exactly what he might do for someone who promised to protect him the way he had always craved he would be protected.
He looked down at Jude.
"I'm not going to die," she said, smiling magnanimously.
It was strange for her to look at him like that. Unguarded. Happy. Like in his fantasies when he would look down at her and her lips would tug at the corners.
It was a look he craved. Not like this though. This was a perversion of his fantasy.
He truly hated ensorcellment. Nothing honest could be gained from it.
"Prince Cardan," said the teacher, breaking through his thoughts. "She ought to be taken home."
Cardan glanced over at Noggle. Though Cardan had often thought he was a fool, the teacher was right.
Jude was in no fit state to represent herself. She ought to be taken home.
Cardan ought to take her home. Clean the sticky juice off her face and lie her down until she had recovered.
And then if she did not leave, if she did not laugh at him, perhaps he could show her other kindnesses.
No, he was getting carried away again.
"Everyone is so dull today," he said.
But he could take her.
The teacher had told him to so he did not have to lose face. He would have to take her to the general not to Hollow Hall, but perhaps he could show her great concern at Madoc's door, let the general and his wife and the servants tell Jude of his concern when she recovered herself.
Then he would not be there if she laughed at him. But perhaps he could sow the seeds that would change her mind about him. Perhaps he could leave a request that she come to Hollow Hall when she recovered, safe in the knowledge that the general might well make her go. And perhaps he could leave her with a gift of some kind.
Something thoughtful.
Something…
"Oh Noggle," said Nicasia. "She doesn't wish to go."
Cardan could have thrown Nicasia in a river of nixies in that moment. Jude agreed with her and Cardan felt lost, his plans evaporating like morning dew.
Jude smiled at him, wide and happy and elated. It was a cruel twist of fate.
That was the smile he wanted. But not like this.
Never like this.
He wanted her whole and hale.
He wanted her to be herself.
Noggle then left and Cardan felt even more lost. Why hadn't their teacher protested more? Why hadn't he told Cardan to take her anyway?
Why did nobody in this whole school except Jude seem to have anything resembling a spine?
Cardan supposed he could still take Jude away by himself, but now everyone would see it was him who desired her safe return.
Not Noggle.
They taunted Jude. All of them.
"Which of us would you like to kiss?" asked someone. "All of you," replied Jude. And Cardan hated every single one of them in that moment. She did not want to kiss all of them.
He could not abide it.
She was ensorcelled. She wasn't thinking straight.
He was the only person here worthy of her affection. And he wasn't sure he was worthy of her affection.
"You're wearing too many clothes," said Nicasia. "And they've grown dirty. You should take them off."
Cardan fisted his hands by his sides. This was not right. It should not be like this. He should undress Jude. In Hollow Hall. Away from all these spineless sycophants. He should undress her after she asked him to.
After she told him to do with her whatever he wished.
Even Taryn did not step in as Jude unclipped her dress. Cardan looked away.
This was not how it was supposed to be. But they were all giggling.
"Come lick my hands clean," said Nicasia.
Cardan would not stand for this. He hated seeing Jude like this, so unlike herself, robbed of her defiance. Her only defence, her only consolation.
"No," he said loudly and every eye turned to him.
Through the fog of fury and fear, he knew he had to perform for them. Give them all something else to giggle about. Something less demeaning, but demeaning enough that they would be satisfied and he would still appear cruel.
He toed off the shoe of his boot. "Jude will come here," he said, his voice wobbling only slightly. "And kiss my foot. She said she wanted to kiss us. And I am her prince after all."
Jude did not even protest. It was horrible. She crawled to him on her hands and knees. Laughing.
As she looked up into his eyes, he tried to communicate with his gaze that he did not want this. At least, not like this. In his head, he promised himself and her that he would do this if she ever came to his rooms at Hollow Hall.
He would humiliate himself like this too so he could atone for making her do this.
"Well, be quick about it," he said, avoiding her gaze now. "Kiss my foot and tell me how great I am. Tell me how much you admire me."
"Enough," said someone.
Locke, Cardan realised. Locke took Jude's shoulders. Of course, he would save her now. Not before. Not when Valerian was attacking her. Not when Nicasia was humiliating her. Only now.
Cardan worried briefly that Locke did not fear him as he feared the other two.
And he worried that Jude would not understand that it was he, Cardan, who had truly risked anything to save Jude. Not Locke. It was Cardan who had put himself in Valerian's way. It was Cardan who had intercepted Nicasia's humiliation.
It was Cardan who was submitting himself to this perversion of his fantasies so Jude would not have to suffer the larger cruelties of his friends and classmates.
"I'm taking her home," Locke told him.
Cardan sneered. He did not need to hide his anger because nobody would guess the true reason he was angry.
"Are you now?" said Cardan. Locke, the saviour. Locke who liked to pretend he was the good guy.
Locke the bastard who would now get in the way of Cardan taking Jude home himself.
Of Cardan showing his concern for her to the general and his wife and the servants. Locke who did not even want Jude, but Taryn.
"Interesting timing," said Cardan. "You like the savor of a little humiliation, just not too much."
Cardan should be grateful. Locke had saved Jude even from him, but Cardan was still furious.
"I hate it when you get like this," said Locke.
Cardan was the one who had tried to save Jude. Truly. Locke's reasons could be naught but manipulation.
And Cardan would not let Jude leave with Locke whilst she was still out of her right mind.
So Cardan pulled a pin from his coat and with a quick, emotionless gesture, he stabbed the sharp end into Jude's finger. She put it in her mouth.
That should do it.
As she walked away, he could see her come back to herself. Her muscles tensed. She looked back over her shoulder.
When Balekin lashed him that evening, Cardan thought for once he might deserve it. He did not fantasise about Jude that evening either.
He did not deserve to.
But he could not stop thinking about her.
So instead, he ended up writing her name. Over and over and over like a reminder. Like a taunt. Like a promise.
It was unfair really.
He doubted she was haunted by dreams of him.