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Their extravagant chambers had never felt more like a sanctuary until now, as Jude slowly sank into the bed next to Cardan with a heavy sigh, feeling such a bone-deep exhaustion wash over her. Being the High Queen of Faerie was no small feat; she was expected to be constantly ready for possible threats. The Fae had grown accustomed to her ruthless, yet just reign with the High King for over eight years now, observing her sometimes maniacal ways of dealing with the last dregs of Madoc’s long-forgotten army, with scuttling hags and mortal-hating Fae. Jude’s often primary solution, she liked to admit, was to cut the throats of her enemies, utilising her Court of Shadows with spectacular ease. Cardan said she reminded him so much of Madoc, which she wouldn’t dare deny.
Jude had picked up her fathers love for power. But it was only out of survival, really.
If these past long few months dealing with her brother, Oak, had demonstrated anything, is that she was exhausted. And probably needed some sort of a vacation.
Oak had gotten wrapped up with Queen Suren, who Jude had tried to help at the very beginning of her reign, but it seemed had done little to quell the Court of Teeth’s wickedness. Oak had foolishly gone after their father, who was a prisoner in the North, leaving Jude with such a sense of frustration at her brother. Why must he be so wild and reckless? Perhaps it had been the resemblance to Locke, fox-ish and conniving. Or perhaps he’d got it from Jude herself, who excelled in lying and reckless schemes. Who knows.
Then they’d gotten betrothed, and suddenly everything went to hell. The Ghost was poisoned; then turned into a tree by Cardan, leaving Taryn lost without her lover. Oak found out of Garrett’s involvement with Liriope’s death, Randalin of all Fae tried to stage her and Cardan’s assassination, for god’s sake. That hob had had it out for Jude since her first ever involvement with the High Court.
Watching those two piercing arrows whistle towards her had installed a new kind of festering fear within her, but Cardan had proven faster. He’d lifted his cloak made by Mother Marrow to shield her, in the process taking a knife to the chest. The moment he staggered forward onto her, clutching his chest, sluggishly muttering “Jude,” she felt rage and fear she hadn’t felt in a long time. Not since the Battle of the Serpent, where she cut the head of her lover off, restoring the High King.
Jude had lifted her husband down to the hard ground, watching terrified as the pearl-white colour of his clothing stained with ruby-coloured blood. Her sharp, destructive anger had coursed through her veins, and she had lifted her head up with a mountainous glare of wrath, grabbing Nightfell from its sheath and pointing it at the snivelling hob. Jude lifted the sword up with a long stretched-out arm, still on her knees next to Cardan, and gritted through her teeth, “For that, I am going to slit your filthy, traitorous throat.”
The Roach and The Bomb had looked at her, and Jude noticed the strike of fear cross their faces. It had thrilled her.
But then Oak. Oak had picked up a sword, and began swinging with controlled, and clear practice, wiping out every guard who came swinging. Jude had watched in horror as her little brother murdered so brutally, where she saw Madoc clear as day. His training to kill. Before she knew it, Oak had put his blade through Randalin’s stomach, killing him with such ease.
But then he’d continued on, searching for the next kill. Jude had stood, holding her sword close, turning to Madoc and screaming with such fury, “What have you done to Oak?”
The old redcap had lifted to gaze at Jude lazily, looking seemingly enthralled with the entire situation. “Me?” he’d laughed, “He’s good with a sword.”
Oak had come closer to Jude, sword still up, and she shielded Cardan with her body, pushing against Oak’s blade with Nighfell, yelling, “Oak! Stop!”
The look in her brother’s face as he’d slowly become aware of what he’d done made her heart clench with despair and pity for him. He’d clearly lost control. Jude had wondered if it’d happened before. How much of a killer Oak really was.
The room watched him stumble over apologies, and he had turned to Oriana, who was clutching Taryn’s son, Leander, closely, shielding him from Oak’s wrath. He’d looked so pained.
But then Cardan had given orders shakily, and Oak had left, trying to help Queen Suren once more.
After that, Jude had aided Oak in the end, and as she watched the love he had for Suren, it reminded her how much she missed Cardan. How scared she’d been at the mere chance of losing him again.
So, hence the bone-deep exhaustion.
The velvet sheets pooled underneath her muscled body, causing her to sink even deeper into the soft, feathered mattress. Jude felt the hard press of Cardan’s body next to her, a grounding force that made her limbs sag from days of tense brinks of war, after extreme dueling practice with The Ghost. She missed him. The way his sandy hair that seemed a touch too long these days kept dangling in-front of his eyes, causing Jude’s win after win due to the ridiculous distraction. She’d laughed, called him a fool and demanded re-match after re-match.
Closing her eyes, she felt the sting of grief hit her.
“Jude?” Cardan murmured lovingly from beside her. He’d clearly noticed her shaky breaths and squeezed shut eyes. “Darling, what’s wrong?”
Another long, grief-addled sigh escaped her. Jude shook her head, not wanting the tears to escape. She hated this weakness.
“My sweet wife,” Cardan whispered in her ear, “It is okay. Do not fear anymore, Oak is safe, everyone is well.”
That was true, in the sense of physical harm, it was only Cardan still injured.
“No,” She muttered, voice shaky. “I cannot think. I cannot breathe knowing my foolishness nearly cost you your life, and–” Jude cut herself off. She couldn’t have known of Randalin’s plan for The Ghost, but it nonetheless haunted her. “I miss Garrett. I hate this weakness that has wormed its way into me.”
Her husband sighed, and Jude noticed the twinge of sadness in it. “Jude, you couldn’t have known of the plans Bogdana made. Randalin was nothing more than a conniving, idiotic fool; which he paid for with his life. We are to rest now, darling. We are to grieve and find our paths back to our Kingdom, back to our home.”
Cardan’s comforting words pushed Jude over the cliff she’d been dangling dangerously over the edge on for so very long. A single tear escaped the crook of her eye, and her body shifted, turning to her side to face her adoring love. “I was so scared,” Jude confessed, like the mere word ‘scared’ meant she was weak, and unworthy of the crown.
Cardan looked to face Jude, and she noticed the point of his ears; the shape of his perfect lips; the dark abyss of his eyes. He was as beautiful as ever, and there was a moment she thought she’d never see this again.
More tears escaped her traitorous eyes, gliding down the heat of her cheeks.
“Oh, sweet Jude.” Cardan hummed. “I am okay, I will never willingly leave you,” he paused to lift his slender hands up, cupping her cheeks and wiping her tears so softly, it made her heart ache with love. He’s the only person she could be vulnerable with like this. The only person she loves with her entire heart. Jude knew she was much the same to him. “It would take all the gods and earths to pull me away; even then, I would still fight my way back to you.”
Jude let out a small laugh over her tears. “Always one for the dramatics, aren’t you, husband?”
“You know me well, my darling wife. Now come closer so I may hold you.”
Lifting her head into the crook of his neck, Jude let out another shaky breath.
“It is alright to cry, Jude. Just let it all go.”
With that, and her face pushed into Cardan's bare neck, safe from the rest of the world, Jude cried.
“There you go, darling. That’s it,” His comforting praise made her feel even warmer, even more secure.
He had been so horrid in the past, so cruel to her. But now, Jude couldn’t imagine her life without Cardan as her husband, whispering sweet nothings in her ear and making her feel so loved. How much they’d grown in the past years never failed to amaze her.
“Hey Jude,” Cardan began, in a soft, quiet cadence in her ear. “don't be afraid, you were made to, go out and get her,”
When on earth had he learnt Hey, Jude? She wondered, had Vivi introduced him to the Beatles somehow?
He continued, “The minute you let her under your skin, then you begin to make it better.”
“You know the Beatles?”
Cardan huffed a small laugh. “Vivi showed me this song long ago, sweet wife, when we were merely enemies at school. I hated how it reminded me of you, and how much you had already clawed your way into my head.” Jude could feel him shake his head fondly. “I hated how much the curved roundness of your ears enticed me, how you left physical evidence in the ground you stood in, like you were demanding to be known. You troubled me so.”
He pressed a small kiss on the top of her head, just above her hairline, and he began again, “Anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain, don’t carry the world upon your shoulders.”
With the comforting silence mixed with the small hum of her husband's voice, Jude fell into a sleep, just barely capturing the three words she needed.
“I love you.”