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Jude was sharpening her sword while steadfastly ignoring a rather dry, rather lengthy report when the servant knocked at her door.
“Enter,” she called, kicking her feet off the desk. Her chair, which had previously been balancing on two legs, came crashing down without the added support. Jude inspected the length of Nightfell’s blade before sliding it into the sheath hanging from her sword belt, looped over the back of her chair. The servant peeked through the door.
“Your Majesty,” the girl greeted, dipping her head and revealing the dainty, curved horns peeking out of her hair as she curtseyed low, “the High King requests your presence in the throne room.”
“Tell him I’m coming,” Jude said with a wave of her hand. As the servant girl closed the door with a gentle click , Jude pushed her papers aside, stood, and stretched. Finally, a valid excuse to ignore them.
They were nothing important anyway, more a formality than anything else, sent from one of the lower courts to appraise the High King and Queen on trivial matters and goings on in their lands. Jude was glad to be rid of them.
Twisting enough to crack her lower back, she looped her sword belt around her waist, shoved the papers into a locked drawer, and extinguished her lamp as she exited the room.
As she walked, she idly wondered what Cardan might wish her for. He’d been quiet these past few days, scheming something, but she had yet to discover what. Perhaps today was the day she would find out.
When Jude reached the throne room the two guards standing on either side of the grandiose doors stepped aside to let her pass. People were scattered about the floor, drinking and talking and dancing, and her husband was lounging on his throne, one leg tossed over the arm, his chin on his hand.
He stood as she approached.
“Wife,” he greeted her, dark eyes dancing with some mix of amusement and love that set Jude’s face blushing.
“Husband,” she said in return.
He stepped off the dais and took her hand, his palm smooth against the rough calluses of her own.
“I hope I did not interrupt anything important.” In the past, Jude might have taken the words as a jibe, but not now. Now she knew them for genuine consideration, a sincerity he rarely showed anyone besides her.
She smiled up at him. “Not in the slightest. Was there something you needed?”
“Hm. Yes, walk with me.”
As he led her out of the hall and down the corridors, he said, “Do you know what day it is?”
“Sunday?” she hazarded, not quite sure where he was going with this.
Her husband hummed in return, gazing around thoughtfully before turning his eyes to her face. “Vivienne wrote me a handful of weeks ago and informed me of a human holiday which celebrates love.”
“Valentine’s Day?”
Cardan nodded. “I prepared a surprise for you.”
“Oh? All by yourself?”
Another nod, this time accompanied by the sweetest, brightest smile. Jude’s heart swelled at the sight.
Recently, the Faerie High King had become fascinated with human culture and had hounded Jude about celebrating every human occasion she could remember. So far, they had gone trick-or-treating, eaten a Thanksgiving feast, and celebrated Christmas. She should have guessed Valentine’s Day would be next.
“This is the first human celebration I have heard of that makes a shred of sense,” Cardan admitted, face earnest. “The others were fascinating, of course, but I fail to truly see the point. A holiday for love, however…”
There was a devilish twinkle in his eye that made Jude’s heart pound and her face warm. She tried to think of a response that wouldn’t make her seem foolish, but words failed her.
Cardan squeezed her hand to draw her to a stop. “I need you to close your eyes now.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“So you don’t see where I take you, obviously.” Emphasis lay heavy on the last word, making Jude want to roll her eyes.
“And why can’t I know?”
“Well, you can know,” he conceded, “later, when we get there. But the entire point of a surprise is that it surprises you, and you can’t be surprised if you can see the surprise coming.”
“I don’t like surprises,” Jude said, and Cardan sighed.
“You’ll like this one. Please, Jude? Do you trust me?”
“You know I do,” she said, “with all my heart.”
Her husband grinned, pecking her on the lips before instructing her to close her eyes once again.
This time, Jude cooperated, although she still counted the steps and turns they took.
“Are we going into the west wing?” she asked after a minute of silence. It was one of two guesses she had.
“Are you peeking?”
“So we are,” she sang smugly.
Her husband’s only response was to sigh and squeeze her hand. “I am trying to surprise you, love. Why must you make this difficult?”
But she could hear the smile in his voice as he said the words.
“I’m going to guess where you’re taking me,” she announced.
His answering chuckle was deep and warm. “And I’m not going to respond.”
“I am trying to figure out your surprise for me, love,” she said, repeating his words from earlier. “Why must you make this difficult?”
He stayed silent for another moment and then said, “Jude, if you don’t shut up, I’ll have to occupy your mouth in other ways.”
She arched an eyebrow. “That’s not a very good incentive, Cardan.”
He tugged her to a halt and planted his mouth firmly on hers. She squawked in surprise, which caused him to laugh, and so she muttered a few choice words against his mouth. When she opened her eyes, he pouted, and she eyed those lips until he blew in her face.
“Hey!” She swatted at him but he caught her hand and kissed the tip of her nose.
“You’re terrible at this surprise thing, you know?” he said.
“Yeah. And so are you, because I know exactly where we’re going.”
“You’re lying.”
“Maybe.”
“Please humour me, Jude, dearest. I worked hard on this.” The look on his face could have very well melted her heart—and it did—so she huffed and closed her eyes.
He kissed her nose once more before taking her hand and leading her off to wherever his surprise awaited.
When a warm wind whispered across her face, carrying with it the sweet scent of flowers, Jude knew they had stepped outside. The ground beneath her feet sloped upward and the High Queen of Faerie clung to her husband’s hand as they climbed. She tried to keep her eyes shut tight—truly, she did—but occasionally she stumbled and peeked.
They were on a steep path, lined with tall brush and bordered by roots.
“Are we climbing the hill?” she blurted.
“Are you peeking?” Cardan shot back.
“No. Well, maybe a little, but it was an accident.”
“Hm.” He hummed, then declared, “I would very much like to be mad at you right now,” to which she laughed.
“Are you asking my permission?”
“No, it was merely an observation. It is considerably harder to be angry with you these days than it was this time last year.” He slowed as the ground began to level out beneath their feet. “You may open your eyes now.”
His voice was almost nervous, which Jude found unbearably endearing. The thought fled her mind, however, as she took in the view afforded to her.
The predawn sky was paling, its stars fading above them as the sun peeked over the horizon, setting the distant ocean alight with a million shades of blue and purple and gold. To the south, the tallest of the Milkwoods were stretching up to bask in the growing light, and above her, the leaves of the giant tree whose roots harboured the palace of Elfhame were fluttering softly. Beneath her boots, the grass sparkled with beads of dew like tiny crystals. She had never seen a landscape more beautiful.
“Jude.”
Jude turned toward her husband’s voice. He was sitting on a large blanket, stretched out between the massive roots of the tree, one long leg extended before him, leaning back on his hands. A selection of assorted foods was spread out around him—cheese and meat, bread and fruit and little pastries.
She approached slowly, as though it were a dream that she was afraid to shatter, removing her boots before crawling onto the blanket and allowing him to draw her in.
“Do you like it?” he asked, and there was that sincerity, that timidness, as though he were afraid she would scold him for having done it all wrong.
She nestled against him, laying one hand over his heart to feel its steady beating.
“It’s perfect,” Jude breathed, her heart swelling. “I love it. I love you .”
She reached up and pulled his mouth down to hers, and when their lips met she felt the worry drain from him. She pulled back just enough to ask, “Were you that anxious I wouldn’t like it?”
He seemed to think for a moment before saying, “Yes. I was nervous that it wouldn’t be good enough for you.”
She heard the unspoken fear behind his words. I was worried that I wouldn’t be good enough for you.
“Cardan,” she began slowly. “I know we didn’t begin our union out of love, but marrying you was the best decision I have ever made. And if you asked me, I would do it again in a heartbeat.”
Reaching up, Jude cupped her husband’s face, her expression serious. “There is nothing you can do to make yourself unworthy of my love.”
Cardan kissed her then, gently, sweetly, and she melted against him, revelling in the warmth of his lips on her own, the peace of his arms wrapped around her. She slid her hand around his head, her fingers slipping into the silk of his hair, and when she pulled back to breath, he didn’t move away.
He tipped his forehead to hers, brushing a thumb over her cheek. Their breath mingled in the still air as he murmured her name.
“My wife, my villain, my queen,” he said. “You are everything I have ever wanted and more than I could ever deserve.” His eyes shone with the intensity of his confession, sparkled with the light of his adoration. “You are my entire world, Jude. You are the reason I breathe and the reason I live. You are my heart and my blood and my soul. You are the only one I have ever needed.”
Jude’s chest tightened, her own heart hurting with how much she loved him, and she wished she had a better way with words so she could tell him exactly that. Instead, she settled for a truth she knew so deep in her bones that it ached, the simple, unadorned words spoken with such intensity as they passed from her lips to his:
“I am yours. Entirely and completely.”
His smile against her lips as he kissed her was enough to make her heart burst, and she revelled in how he could still give her butterflies, even after over a year of marriage.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, wife,” Cardan whispered, and Jude’s eyes sparkled with her own smile.
“Happy Valentine’s Day.”