Chapter Text
Jude Duarte awoke on her royally gigantic bed. Just as she had for every night in the five years since her official coronation as High Queen of Elfhame. No one has yet to transform into another snake, nor has anyone bothered to wage any consequential wars. (Jude was thankful for this, eager to spend the rest of her days buried by blankets.) And because of these monotonous (an arguable adjective) days, Jude became quite the expert in recognising what was expected of her now that she held this prestigious title. To adhere to these expectations, Jude created The Schedule.
She staunchly followed this rigid routine, a religious practice that began with her gaze meeting that of a giant snake’s. At first, The Schedule did not begin with this horrible woven art but Cardan had persuaded her, adamantly insisting that this seemingly worthless piece was meant entirely more than what meets the eye. Eventually she caved in, writing this new addition to her plan. Jude wished she did not. The black snake sowed a mournful bitterness within her heart, unearthing the feelings she’d desperately buried the day before. It was all for nothing though, the Pandora box of feelings still exploded and even Jude’s Schedule could not aid the mess the following day would soon become. As she stared into the off-putting tie-dye, glancing at the sword and the snake’s scales, Jude decided that the Schedule would no longer do her any good at all.
She neglected to count anything though she did remain on her back a while longer.
She wished someone would stir beside her, wished that someone would shift his position and groggily reach for her. But nothing happened, nothing at all. The room was quiet too, just the sound of her own breathing and the hushed shuffling of the knights outside her chamber doors.
Cardan always prided himself to be unpredictable and to an extent, Jude’s husband was impossible to divine. She thought of him in the bath, wondering if he was perhaps biding his time to wake. Just so he may utilise the element of surprise fully and shock the living hell out of her when she was naked and covered in soapy froth. Cardan did no such thing though, a grim disappointment that etched a frown on her face as she began dressing for the day. When she began hoping he’d walk in on her lacing her boots, Jude decided that this was no longer strategically placed guesses and instead simply delusion. When her mind prompted the idea that perhaps he may be awaiting her outside the chamber door, Jude entirely ignored it and walked through the subsequent hallway with her eyes closed.
So the knights would not have to see her disappointment. So she could squeeze her lids and prevent the drops of any tear.
At last when the heels of her shoes sunk into the muddy garden grass and no longer the frivolous carpets did Jude finally pause her hurried stride. A knight stopped beside her, prepared for his daily order. “Tell the Bomb to half the audience today.” He doesn’t inquire why and I do not provide him a reason. The Bomb would understand, she’d be overjoyed probably but she would also demand a reason as to why she’d suddenly changed her mind. To that question Jude would never answer aloud, not when so many ears readily listen. If there would be half the usual amount of royals to hear their pitiful pleas then there would be half the usual amount of fucks given. Cardan would find it amusing, Jude knew. But he was not awake yet, she would tell him when he did.
Folk bowed as she passed, their conversations hushing before resuming to their normal volume. They should not have bothered, Jude caught it all the same.
They were anxious of their High King’s health. What it may mean for the land, what it may mean for the High Queen still reigning alone. Oak was too young still, he would not want this title and Jude was not eager to shove this responsibility atop her baby brother. There would be no solutions to this ordeal, only continued perseverance to trudge on through the day. Besides, any coup would be thwarted. Perhaps Cardan was idiotic enough to be near someone with a huge sword but Jude could not allow herself such negligence. Should she disable herself or worse, perish, Elfhame would truly be in tatters. And even in death would Jude badger herself over the failure.
Breakfast matched today’s grim theme. The pastries smelled of rosewater but their tastes left a warm wet taste that inclined Jude to believe it had not spent adequate time within the oven. Even the scrambled eggs, something that should have been so easily accomplished, had been ruined entirely. The yolk was tinged with a peculiar shade of green, not that of crushed herbs but something else. Pushing around the green sludge, she decided hunger was better than potentially suffering through the harrowing day with a troubled stomach. She’d get the cooks to concoct a heartier meal than they originally planned for today’s lunch. Though that meant risking another depressing series of dishes which Jude decided would further derail her already horrible day.
As the maids begin collecting the plates of untouched food, Jude impulsively settles on an idea she knew her unconscious husband would approve of. Before she could execute it though, a familiar head of dandelion white bows down before her throne-like chair.
“My Queen,” she murmured. Jude heard the sarcasm laced in her tone. There was a thin line between subject and friend when it came to the Court of Shadows, that line became a jump rope. Once the maids finally left and they were the two breathing entities present (the breathing part is absolutely necessary as there was a beheaded bear nearby, another one of Cardan’s purchases. “I cancelled the entire audience for today.”
I blinked. Confused.
“If this is another ploy to get me to rest I don’t need it, Bomb.” Jude truly did not. She wasn’t avoiding the thought of Cardan anymore, at least not entirely. And besides, the letter she found tucked beneath her plate promised her that Cardan’s condition had significantly improved. (The physician decided against meeting the High Queen again would be unwise for the time being.) “And besides, I have something to do.”
“Would it be related to that devilish grin you had before I walked in? Sometimes even I forget of your mischievous nature. Cardan married you for a reason.”
“A motive to escape servitude? That was part of it.” At Bomb's chuckle, Jude rose from the chair, eager to relieve her senses from the lingering scent of weird eggs. “Why come here at all? If you wanted to ask me about the audience then send a note. I understand your mission is far from accomplished.”
“I'm here to tell you Cardan is beginning to stir—”
Jude heard nothing that came after, all sound replaced by an insistent rush of blood thrumming through her ears. She couldn't feel her feet either, not when they began running through the palace halls. Neither could she feel her hands when she'd slammed the double doors open. Although Jude did hastily demand Cardan to be displaced, it did not mean she hadn't tucked the knowledge of his new location in the corner of her mind.
Bomb was not mistaken, Cardan had begun to twist, the blankets tangled with his limbs. “Oh sweet stupid husband of mine,” Jude murmured, settling on the armchair beside his bed. He seemed to mumble some gibberish, turning closer to her as if he senses her presence. She should've known his magic would come through sooner or later. Jude was only glad it was not later. “You had to approach the human with a huge sword, didn’t you?”
“Are you reminiscing about how we met or how I got stabbed?” The musings of a madman, Jude noted, thinking it was the Cardan who lived within her head, the realisation delayed by disbelief.
“You idiot,” Jude yelled, assaulting him with a too-tight hug. He was clothed in some silky garment, the sort of thing I'd expect him to wear to a gala not his deathbed. His trembling hands hugged her back, gently patting down the gauzy material of her dress. “I was so worried,” she whispered, though it sounded too much like a raspy sob. He was still bandaged, she felt the raised bump beneath his shirt. “Why must you risk your life so stupidly?” She felt him grin against her shoulder.
“How else would I get my dear nemesis to care?”
The emotions resurfaced unbidden but not unwelcome. She choked on a sob, aggressively wiping at a tear before hitting Cardan’s shoulder, pushing him away. “Of course I care, why would I not? I missed you so much. Did you know how many of the Folk I almost killed in your name?”
“From you, that is quite the romantic proclamation,” Cardan mused, adjusting his position so his legs were hanging from the edge of the bed. “If you are done, I wouldn’t mind consuming some food. Perhaps something with a lot of courses to make up for all the meals I was supposed to have with you…” he paused, thinking. “Why are you here and not entertaining an audience? Or wherever it is your Schedule dictates you to be.”
“I went against it… took an extra long bath too.” His eyebrows raised at this, surprised. Not a single time had she gone so blatantly against it. “Well, say something. I know you are simply dying to.” He rolled his eyes at the dry humour.
“Leave the terrible jests to me, my love. I’m only upset it took my almost-death to spur you against your beloved schedule. It seems you do love me more than that constructed planner.”
“I simply enjoy the art of whimsy more, I suppose. And while we are discussing it, how about we visit the mortal land for lunch. The kitchen tried poisoning their High Queen earlier and I am reluctant to allow them another chance.”
“They simply want us to share a death bed. A joint funeral would save the kingdom a lot of money. Save the coffers for something more worthwhile like wine perhaps.”
“Let’s go, Cardan. I’m already famished.”