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Now, I know your heart, I know your mind
You don't even know you're being unkind
So much for all your highbrow Marxist ways
Just use me up and then you walk away
Boy, you can't play me that way
Well, I guess what you say is true
I could never be the right kind of girl for you
I could never be your woman (White Town, 'Your Woman', 1997)
‘Why did I let you talk me into this, Taryn?’
‘Shush. It’ll be worth it. Maybe everyone will be a bit more… relaxed here.’
I roll my eyes, but keep my mouth shut. She knows and I know that had I truly not wanted to come to the fête, I’d have made some excuse. Madoc and Oriana would have had no objections to leaving me alone. I suppose they are not properly ashamed of Taryn and I, but we do make things a bit more complicated for them.
Our half-blood sister Vivi, fits in very well. I watch her holding hands with our baby brother Oak, as he erupts into fits of giggles. I can’t help but smile. And then… I’m envious. He’s got the childhood I wished I could have had. I should have had.
Taryn senses what I’m feeling, and squeezes my hand. ‘Come on,’ she says, ‘let’s go circulate.’
It’s dusk, and the weather is perfect. We walk through the grassy fields, dotted with vendors and kiosques, all selling their wares. The foods smell amazing, but we daren’t sample any, lest they contain faerie fruit. You never know when someone will find it terribly amusing to forget to tell a human there’s fae fruit in the scone they’ve just taken. But even with rumbling stomachs, Taryn and I enjoy the crafts proffered by the various artisans. There are leather-bound books, exquisite jewellery, and intricate wooden carvings. I let Taryn pull me from kiosque to kiosque, and for a little while, I forget everything that ails me. I forget about my new alliance with Prince Dain; I forget about his evil youngest brother. On this warm summer night, nothing can vex me but…
‘Ahhh, the human daughters of Madoc.’
I don’t have to turn around to recognise the owner of that drawl. I start to walk away, but Taryn, ever polite, greets Cardan. I pretend to be deeply invested in the multi-coloured pearls on display, and ignore the two of them. ‘Jude,’ says Taryn pointedly, ‘Cardan is here.’
I keep my eyes on the pearls. ‘So he is.’
‘I wonder what it’s like to have such a polite sibling, Taryn.’ I bite my tongue to stop myself responding. Just ignore him, I think, and he’ll go away. ‘I came over here to see if Jude would take a walk with me. Locke is over there, Taryn–’ he gestured off past the jewellery kiosques– ‘he’s more than happy to keep you company.’
At the same moment, Taryn said ‘that would be lovely,’ and I said, ‘no thank you.’ The curse of being a twin, I suppose. ‘Excuse us, just a moment,’ said Taryn with a smile. Cardan took a few, rather obsequious steps back, returning the smile.
‘Go with him!’ Taryn hissed.
‘Why should I?’
‘Maybe if you’re alone with him you two can come to some kind of understanding.’
‘You think if I take a stroll with him he’ll stop being a horrible, unrelenting bully.’
‘Well… it might make things better, Jude. Just try it. You never know. You’ve probably got more in common than you realise.’
‘More likely he’s setting me up for an ambush, Taryn.’
She looked around quickly before whispering, ‘I saw you strap on that knife; you’re pretty well-protected if that is the case.’ She waves Cardan over. ‘I hope you two have fun!’ she said brightly, before walking away to join Locke.
‘This way,’ says Cardan over his shoulder, practically speedwalking away. Drawing me away from the crowds, I think. Yet I follow him. He leads me past the outskirts of the field hosting the fête and toward an old vineyard. The trees, seemingly now barren, had been formed into a long, arched pergola, which stretched to, what looked like the crumbling farmhouse. I hesitated. He turned back, extending a hand to me, but I declined to take it, and instead forged on ahead. I had a vague recollection of Dain telling me never to let an enemy operate behind me, but I wanted to have a good look at any potential traps. I couldn’t see anyone lurking; I scanned the vines above me, long-trained to form an arch. I saw no one, nothing, up there but leaves and branches.
‘I used to come here as a boy,’ he said quietly. ‘If I were feeling lonely or unhappy. It was greener then, the vines were alive.’
‘Fascinating,’ I drawled.
‘You’re such pleasant company. I suppose you have never felt alone in the world.’
‘Nope,’ I lied. Whatever this game was, I didn’t like it.
‘When one’s parents… that feeling of not being good enough, it’s quite potent,’ he said with a sigh. He looked more pathetic than I’d ever seen him. To be fair, I had never seen him appear anything but cocky.
‘I wouldn’t know Cardan, my parents love me.’ I thought I had seen him angry on earlier occasions, but apparently, I had not. His pale face grew whiter, and his mouth fell into a grim, lipless line.
‘You human filth,’ he spat. ‘You know nothing about our world, and you know nothing about me.’
‘I don’t want to know anything about you. I want to be as far away from you as possible at all times.’ I try to navigate away from him, but he blocks my path. We are so close now, less than a metre apart.
‘You are not being truthful,’ he chides, in a horrible, sing-songy voice. Before I can respond, he is leaning forward, pressing his mouth to mine. It is not a gesture of love, or even lust, I would have said– his tongue forces its way into my mouth, and I feel his arms cross around my waist, pulling me tightly to him. My hands find their way up his back, and, gripping his tail, I yank it. He yelps as he breaks away from me. ‘Why did you do that?!’ he seems genuinely hurt.
‘You can’t force yourself on me!’
He snorts. ‘You’re telling me you don’t want it too?’
‘It may be very difficult for you to believe, but not everyone in the world wants to fuck you, Cardan.’
‘But you do.’
‘I do not!’ I punctuate my refusal by shoving him in the chest. He grins.
‘I’ll push you right back.’
‘Coward.’ Coward he may be, but he is not a liar. With less force than I used on him, he reached forward and pushed me. I took a few steps back to steady myself. He pushed me again. Now I was up against the branches forming the pergola’s rounded walls. My heart was beating fast. He took another step toward me, so I reached out to slap him across the face. I thought he was about to return the gesture, but instead he gripped my hair, and once again drew my lips to his. This time, I opened my mouth to his, and let him take his pleasure there.
I pushed my hands up inside his tunic, and rested my palms on his chest. I could feel his equally rapid heartbeat, and the swift rise and fall of his chest under my palms. I dug my fingernails in gently at first, but then I applied greater pressure. He chuckled, his mouth still against mine. ‘I knew you wanted it too,’ he whispered, as his lips came to rest just above my collarbone. He alternated between nipping the skin, and prodding it with his tongue. To my own surprise, a moan escaped me, and I shut my eyes in pleasure. ‘My Jude,’ he whispers, barely perceptible. He pushes down the cowl neck of my dress, exposing my left breast. He kisses it briefly, then drops to his knees. Hastily bunching up the fabric of my skirts, he ducks his head underneath, and I hear a ‘huh,’ as he touches the knife. But it does not deter him long, and he quickly sets his tongue to work. His right hand lifts to knead my breast, and pinch the delicate nipple.
I am in an unforeknown state of bliss. But I can’t let him know that. ‘You– you’re the least worthy of your brothers,’ I stammer out, gripping tightly to the vines. ‘Worse than Balekin.’ He withdraws his tongue from my sex with a growl. Wiping his face on my skirts, he stands up again to his full height, and kisses me, deep and hard. He squeezes my breast tightly, until I whimper. With a last bite to my lower lip, he pulls away.
‘You talk of cowards,’ he says, pulling down the fabric to expose my right breast. ‘Balekin is the coward.’ He leans forward to kiss me again, but I turn slightly, and crane my neck up to take his earlobe in between my teeth. I feel his breath on my neck, as he rolls my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. ‘Balekin hasn’t the courage to take what he wants.’
‘And you do?’ I whisper. ‘You think you can take whatever you want?’
‘Yes.’ He sinks his teeth into my trapezius. I grip the hem of his tunic and thrust it upward; he releases my flesh to aid its removal. We kiss again, this time pressing bared torso to bared torso. I let my tongue enter his mouth, and I am a little disappointed that he tastes as good as he does– berry-sweet, like a fine summer wine. Gripping my shoulders, he turns me roughly around. I can feel him at my skirts again, grabbing them and rolling them up toward my waistband. I bend forward, and arch my back slightly. After a moment, I feel him at my entrance. He reaches forward to grab my breasts, and eases himself into me. I hold tight to the vines, my knuckles going white with the effort. He thrusts back and forth, in and out, and I worry my knees won’t be able to support me much longer. I feel myself building to a crescendo, and when I feel his lips on the back of my neck, I find my release. With a final, forceful, squeeze of my breasts, he groans as he finishes; emptying himself into me. He steps back, and as I ease myself upright, I notice my hand is bleeding– I must’ve found a thorn on the vine.
I turn to him, but in an oddly chaste move, he turns away from me to replace his black tunic. I notice the criss-cross of fresh welts on his back. I want to say something, but I don’t know what. So I fiddle with my skirts, and try to push some of the loosened hair back into its previous style. ‘Don’t follow me around at the fête,’ he says. I roll my eyes.
‘As if I would. Besides, you’re the one who brought me here.’
‘It was a mistake. I hated every second of it. Hated every inch of your body. I’ll never touch another human.’
‘See that you don’t.’