I've always found the idea that Cardan had fantasies about Jude very interesting. So this story explores what that might have meant in the less obvious sense.

One

Cardan could remember the day he'd first fantasised about Jude. She'd bothered him for some time with her unshakeable command of her sword and her insistence on answering all the questions in class.

And by bothered, of course, he meant that he feared her. It was a stupid feeling. It made no sense. She was a mortal. A mere drop of water in an ocean.

But even he could not deny her swordsmanship. He'd never cared much for sword-fighting himself, but he'd known since he'd learnt of the mock war they would have to participate in that Jude would be a threat to him.

It wasn't that he cared much for her beating him. Truly, he did not care much for himself at all. But he had learnt long ago that how people perceived him was more important for his fragile illusion of power than what he said or did.

If Jude beat him in the tournament or knocked him down, Balekin would never let him live it down. The beating he'd get for his weak swordsmanship would be twice fold what he usually suffered — perhaps even ten fold.

So Cardan decided he had to get Jude to quit. It was the only way to save himself the humiliation. The only way to save himself the extra lashings.

He was too proud to ask the teachers to put him and Jude on the same side. He'd tried. Multiple times.

He'd approached every teacher in the palace school with the words on the tip of his tongue. He knew he wouldn't have to explain himself, merely ask and it would be done.

It was a small request after all.

But each time he drew a teacher aside to speak to them, he found his tongue heavy like it was dusted with iron.

He could not get out the words. He could not manage the curious looks the teachers gave him as they waited nor could he stomach the knowing looks he suspected they'd give him once he asked.

They would know he was afraid of Jude. Of what she could do to him on the field.

It only took one loose tongue for the information to get around the palace school or back to Balekin. And then Cardan would be undone anyway.

So every time he'd tried to ask a teacher, he'd sneered instead and told them he thought their methods were tiresome and boring and they should speed up the lessons. The looks they gave him were contempt thinly veiled as submission.

But Cardan much preferred those looks to the knowing looks they would have given him if he asked about Jude and so he had to go to his second plan. He had to force Jude to quit the tournament.

Like with the teachers, he knew there was a nice way he could do it, but asking her not to participate because of Balekin was too much… How could he even begin to explain? How could he even attempt to command her fear and respect again if he confessed to her?

It was out of the question.

So he started his campaign of cruelty. He had always been cruel — it made him feel less powerless and though it was a hollow sort of power, he did not know any other way — but he had rarely directed his cruelty towards Jude in such a targeted way.

She kept her head down most of the time. Her and that twin of hers kept themselves to themselves. Sometimes, they got caught in his general cruelty, but he did not target them specifically.

It was a risk to go after Jude. She could hurt him if she wanted to. He was relying on her self-concern and her concern for her twin to ply her to his needs.

It seemed like it could work. It seemed like a safer plan than asking the teachers or asking Jude herself to spare him in the mock war and he knew cruelty. He had learnt it from Balekin himself.

So he started by kicking mud into her food. Their food, he supposed though Taryn was mostly collateral.

Jude looked up at him with fierce eyes and his collar felt suddenly tight. At first, he thought she might defy him immediately, but she seemed to be fighting herself.

He'd always admired that about her — the defiant streak he detected within her that reminded him of himself. Though sometimes he thought it was hatred. The burning kind of hatred that made you get up off the floor even with bleeding gashes in your back.

Normally, it thrilled him to see it bubbling under Jude's surface. And she was pretty enough too so it was never a chore to look at her.

But today, her defiant streak set his nerves jangling.

"Something the matter?" Nicasia asked Jude, draping her arm around Cardan's shoulders. He wished she wouldn't sometimes. It always felt like an insult these days. "Dirt, it's what you came from mortal. It's what you'll return to soon enough. Take a big bite."

Jude scowled and Cardan's breath caught. He knew in that moment he may have miscalculated. "Make me," she spat.

Cardan sneered, grinning to hide the sudden rush of blood in his ears.

"I could you know," he said. Though he'd never ensorcelled a mortal to do his bidding in that way before. Balekin ensorcelled mortals. Cardan occasionally stole them back to the mortal world. And Cardan had always thought ensorcelling mortals was the sign of weak folk. After all, the truly powerful did not need to command people to love and respect them.

They just did.

But Jude did not know he had never ensorcelled a mortal before. As far as she knew, he was as evil as he hoped he seemed.

Jude glanced at their useless teacher.

"You don't want that, do you?" said Valerian next to Cardan, kicking more mud onto Jude's food. Cardan's collar felt tight again. Of course, involving his friends made him more intimidating and therefore made Jude more likely to concede, but he could not always control the worst excesses of his friends the way he could control his own.

"What if we promise to be nice to you for the whole afternoon if you eat everything in your baskets?" said Valerian. "Don't you want us for friends?"

Cardan sneered again. Though they were deviating from the purpose of harassing Jude. Not that he could blame them — he hadn't confided in any of them his fear of Jude or his plan to get her out of the tournament.

For all they knew, he was just being his usual cruel self. Picking on the mortals because they were mortals.

That made sense.

That was not weakness.

Taryn looked down at her lap and it seemed to have some mitigating effect on Jude. She shrunk a little, though her shoulders were still taut like she hadn't fully decided against defiance yet.

She met Cardan's gaze and he barely dared to breathe.

The hatred was there. Burning. Thrilling. Terrifying.

He was seized by a sudden urge to grip her shoulders and shake her and tell her what was at stake for him, but he did not move.

He could not.

Nicasia reached for Jude's hair at that moment, distracting them both. A pin slid out. Golden with hawthorn berries.

"What's this?" said Nicasia as Jude's hair tumbled around her face. "Did you steal it? Did you think it would make you beautiful? Did you think it would make you as we are?"

Jude looked mortified, her gaze flicking between the four of them. Though Cardan thought she looked at him longest. He had often flattered himself that she might find him pretty too, but he could never be sure if it meant anything. Mortals were said to be strongly affected by attraction to the folk. And many of the folk were beautiful. Far prettier than Cardan, though he would never admit it.

Sometimes, he had wished to ask Jude what she thought of his features though he did not like to examine that impulse too closely. He suspected it was his vanity. Or his attempt to abate his fear. If she found him beautiful after all, it meant he had some advantage over her since he could not beat her in a fight and he could not be sure he was more intelligent either.

"You'll never be our equal," sneered Nicasia.

"Oh come on," said Locke, like he was bored. "Let's leave them to their misery."

He wrapped his arm around Nicasia's waist and Cardan blotted the bitterness that rose in his chest. He could not allow himself to show weakness now in front of Jude and he couldn't leave yet.

He hadn't put his demands to her.

But she still didn't look like she would necessarily heed him if he demanded anything.

"Jude's sorry," blurted Taryn suddenly. "We're both really sorry."

Cardan had forgotten she was there. He might have felt assured by her words if he didn't already know that Taryn was a spineless sort of creature and that Jude did not always follow her grovels.

"She can show us how sorry she is," Cardan said as lazily as he could, injecting his next words with as much insouciance as he could summon. "Tell her she doesn't belong in the Summer Tournament."

"Afraid I'll win?" asked Jude.

Cardan felt like he couldn't breathe. It was like she could see right through him. See into his weak and blackened heart and see how he feared her.

But of course, she could not. She knew nothing of who he was. He was a cruel prince to her. Nothing more.

"It's not for mortals," he said coldly. Though his palms were sweating now and he felt a little dizzy. "Withdraw," he continued in the same cruel tone. "Or wish that you had."

Jude held his gaze.

It wasn't going to be enough. He hadn't been cruel enough. And for a moment, he thought she might physically attack him.

"I'll talk to her about it," said Taryn quickly. "It's nothing, just a game."

Cardan's jaw twitched, but Jude at least was staying silent now. Silent, he realised, so she didn't have to concede.

He would have to apply more pressure, but right now he was out of ideas. So he just held Jude's gaze, pouring every ounce of fury and cruelty he could dredge into his expression. He hoped it would be enough.

He wasn't convinced.

And that was the first day he fantasised about Jude.

It was a tame fantasy really, nothing explicit. As he returned to Hollow Hall, passing Balekin's office where his brother was dealing with paperwork, Cardan could think of nothing but Jude and the Summer Tournament.

He went over and over the conversation they'd had. Over and over the defiant looks she'd given him. He changed little in his fantasy. Only the ending.

She apologised to him. She promised she wouldn't enter the tournament. She gave him her word.

And for some reason, he imagined giving her his word that he would spare her his cruelty in exchange.

I will be posting a few more of these over the coming months. Mostly, we'll be following events of 'The Cruel Prince' from Cardan's POV with a focus on his fantasies about Jude and how they evolve over time.