Work Text:
I Jude duarte the High Queen of Elfhame in exile. Standing by the apartment's main door, I stare at my reflection in the mirror ,tucking a few wild strands of hair behind my stubbornly rounded, human ears.
I wear a tight black turtleneck, a dark burgundy miniskirt that cuts across the middle of my thighs, and low-heeled boots reaching just below my knees.I look mortal. Far too mortal. It feels like a charade, a cheap masquerade, as though I am playing some game of Halloween dress-up.
It feels like I am trapped in a skin that no longer fits even If I curse Cardan for what he did to me, I must curse myself twice over. I was the fool who walked willingly into his trap .
My fingers close around the golden chain, tracing the heavy shape of the small ruby ring hanging from it. When I was cast out, I swore I would never wear it again,I promised myself I would fling it into the sea and watch the waves swallow it forever. Yet, every time I try to rid myself of it, my hands refuse to let go So, I raided Vivi’s drawer for a simple gold cord—a relic she brought back from Elfhame. I threaded the ring through it. Now, I wear it token against my skin, tethered close to my heart.
I am utterly pathetic
With a heavy sigh, I grab my autumn coat from the peg beside the mirror, snatch my keys, and call out to Vivi that I’m leaving.
It is good to have work.The needs of the Folk here in the mortal world are different from their whims in Elfhame. Here, they want nothing more than petty spying or shoplifting—tasks that require no magic, only the willingness to lie and steal on their behalf and that is my job for today.
I met Bryern a week after my banishment. He is a phooka, a creature with a goat-like face and unsettling yellow eyes. He is my handler, more than a boss in the traditional sense; he hands me assignments, and I get paid. The higher the risk, the higher the coin. Since my sister, Heather, my little brother, and I were all crammed into the same suffocatingly small apartment, we decided to lease a larger, better place in the same complex.
Heather objected at first, claiming I could easily sleep on the kitchen floor. I refused, of course.
But because the new apartment is spacious and far more modern, the rent doubled. To cover her share, Heather decided to sublet her old place to her painter friends, giving them a space to find their muse while she pocketed the rent money. As for me, I am left scrambling for odd jobs among the free-roaming Folk here just to scrape by.
Heather is sweet—entirely too innocent, Sometimes I wonder how my sister could deceive someone like her so many times, and how Heather could find it in herself to forgive.
Then again, I wonder if I have any right to judge.
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After two hours
My work done, my pockets lined with mortal cash, I walk through the looming streets of the human world toward the pier. Here, mortals gather, some jogging, others perched on wooden benches staring out at the water, letting the biting wind whip through their hair as they watch waves shatter against the rocks and drag themselves backward.
Every evening at sunset, I stand there, staring into the vast expanse of the sea, letting the cold air tangle my hair.It is autumn in Maine. The late afternoon sun casts a harsh, glaring light across the endless water before me.Every day, I watch the waves break, drowning in the spiral of my own thoughts until the sun sinks and forces me home. But today, I cannot linger. Oak, my little brother, has a surprise for me. He begged me—pleaded with me—to come back by afternoon so he could show it to me.Oak is a strange, tender child, and I suppose all children his age are strange, whether they are mortal or faerie. Still, it is a comfort that he gets to live a normal childhood, far from the toxic glare of the High Court. He laughs at everything, stuffs his mouth with neon-colored cereal, and cannot stop spitting it at my face every single morning.At least my sacrifice—giving up absolutely everything—bought him this peace.
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I push open the apartment door, welcomed by the familiar, heavy warmth of the space.There is no sign of Heather; she is away on holiday with her parents and cousins, wanting to spend a few days with them. Because Heather had witnessed my complete unravelling—my desperate, hollow weeping during those first raw weeks of exile—she and Vivi had tried endlessly to drag me out of my wreckage, forcing me into various human activities.It wasn't that I could actually blend in, but I went along with it, if only to show some shred of gratitude for their efforts.Heather was the one who helped me trim my split ends and lent me the modern mortal clothes I wear now.
The apartment is deathly quiet. I wipe my boots and step into the living room, only to freeze. Vivi is sitting on the couch, her face buried in her hands.'
"Vivi!" I cry out, dropping to my knees beside her, cupping her face between my palms.To see my vibrant, unstoppable sister broken like this is a rarity—and a rarity always means danger.I shake her gently "Vivi, what happened? Tell me."She looks up at me, her eyes bloodshot and raw "It all happened so fast. I never expected this"
''Expected what? Talk to me"I demand, the panic in my chest clawing its way up with every passing second
"It’s Oak.'"