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It had taken Cardan longer than it should to notice that his shadow, his Seneschal, was no longer standing behind the throne, behind him. He took a swig from the goblet in his hand, eyes narrowing, as he looked across the hall trying to spot her amongst the crush of bodies.
He frowned to himself, annoyed that she’d managed to slip away without him noticing. Gazing across the hall, he smoothed his features to a semblance of boredom and drained the contents of the goblet. That really is good wine, too good to share, he thought absently.
He stood up, swaying only slightly as the wine went to his head, before sweeping into an elegant bow and shouting above the music, “Friends, I know it will break your hearts, but you must continue dancing without me!” A few of the Fae booed, but the music didn’t slow and the dancers didn’t even miss a step.
The music became muffled as the doors shut behind him. He paused his steps, his guard almost stumbling into the back of him. “Now where could my Seneschal be?” he pondered to himself, tapping his lip with his finger. What mischief are you up to?
He closed his eyes for a moment, expanding out his senses into his connection with the land. He’d started to notice that he could feel the life of Elfhame and had absently wondered, (while sitting through another boring Council meeting earlier that day), if he could pick out individual people through that connection. Now seemed a good a time as any to try it out.
The mass of bodies in the hall glowed with a bright, shimmering golden light behind his closed eyes, his guard a pair of tiny silver dots behind him. More faintly, dots of lights, like sprites, flitted around the palace. He was pretty certain that none of them was his Seneschal. A flicker of red in the corner of his vision caught his attention. Eyes still closed he looked up. A bright, deep red dot of light hung above him. A blood-red star. As he opened his eyes he smiled. “Found you,” he murmured.
✨✨✨
Telling his guard to wait for him at the base of the mound that made up the palace, Cardan scrambled up the grassy wall. He used the curve of the hill to hide his approach, the Roach had been teaching him slyfooting and he wanted to see if he could surprise his Seneschal.
He was certainly not silent, (or particularly steady on his feet, as his muddy knees could attest), but he’d eventually reached a clump of trees growing out of the hill. Hiding in their shadows, he looked back down the hill and could see a figure lying stretched out on the grass looking up into the sky.
Cardan looked down at his Seneschal, she hadn’t noticed him yet, or (more likely), was pretending that she hadn’t noticed him yet. It was a form of lying that Cardan was now beginning to recognise, but still struggled to spot quickly. He leant against the trunk of a tree, tucked in its shadows, and watched her.
She was gazing up at the sky, a slight smile on her face. Cardan looked up, trying to see what she was looking at, but all that was there was a moonless, star-filled night sky. His gaze moved back down to her. It was strange seeing her look so unguarded. Usually, her brows were creased in a small frown, eyes flashing with either annoyance or exasperation, or, (if Cardan tried really hard), both at the same time.
His mouth curled into a smile as he watched her watching the sky. This was a side of his Seneschal he hardly ever got to see, and in the quietest corners of his mind he could whisper to himself that it is a side of her that he’d like to see more often.
“You really need to work on your slyfooting if you think you’re going to be able creep up on me.”
Damn.
Unbidden, his traitorous feet pulled him out of the shadows of the trees and towards her until he was stood over to her. He leant forward, blocking her view and grinned widely down at her. “My Seneschal!” he declared, brightly. “You were missed at the revel. It was suggested that you were off throwing knives at someone and thought it best to make sure you weren’t turning some poor courtier into a pincushion.” That was me, I suggested that.
Jude frowned up at him before letting out a tiny snort of laughter. “As you can see, Your Majesty, all your courtiers are safe and sound.” She narrowed her eyes, “unless, that is, you’re offering yourself up as tribute. If you don’t get out of the way I’ll happily turn you into a hedgehog.”
Cardan laughed and flopped onto the grass next to her. Using his arms as a pillow he stared up into the sky. “I think I’m the last person who needs to worry about being murdered by you.” After all, you need me around, that at least keeps me safe from harm, by you at least. That doesn’t really shorten the list though.
“Bold of you to assume that I’d just murder you. Where would the fun be in that?” Cardan could feel her eyes on him, he carried on looking up into the sky, ignoring the shiver that went through him as she spoke.
They lay in companionable silence for a while. Cardan traced out the different constellations with his eyes. He liked this. Liked not arguing or sniping at each other. Liked the proximity to her. Not that he could say it out loud. Mainly because “liked” is not truthful enough, truth be told.
Sometimes he completely forgot that he hated her.
Cardan snuck a look at Jude, she was still looking up into the sky, a thoughtful look on her face. He rolled onto his side facing her, resting his head on his bent arm. “Penny for your thoughts, my Seneschal?” he asked, reaching out and pulling a coin from behind her ear. It wasn’t just slyfooting that the Roach was teaching him.
Jude let out a genuine laugh and grabbed the coin from his fingers. “My thoughts are worth more than a penny. Is the Roach is teaching you all his bad habits?”
“Well,” he dragged out the word with a wink. “That would be telling.” The Roach had, in fact, been teaching him lots of things, and it turned out that, unlike his lessons, it was something he excelled at. (Lockpicking, sleight of hand, freeing himself from all sorts of knots). He’d spent a lot of time in the dimly lit rooms of the Court of Shadows over the last couple of months and spent more time practising outside of them. He was also fairly certain that his Seneschal knew exactly what he’d been up to. That’s what you do, after all. Make my business your business.
Jude clumsily rolled the coin across her knuckles, cursing as she dropped it.
“No, you need to balance it there,” Cardan repositioned the coin on her hand, his fingers brushing hers, accidentally, of course. “Anyway,” he continued, ignoring the strange feeling in his stomach, the tingling in his fingers, Jude’s slight intake of breath, “I believe that I’ve paid for your thoughts.” He raised an eyebrow and looked at her expectantly.
Jude rolled the coin across her knuckles again.
“Well?” Cardan prompted.
Jude sighed and turned her gaze back to the sky. “Sometimes…” she started, before trailing off into silence again. A breeze whispered across them, ruffling their hair. Cardan breathed in the smell of her, a smile hovering on his lips. He could feel the vibrations of the revel through the hill, a distant whisper. He idly wondered if he could feel it without the connection to the land. Another experiment for later.
“This is very unlike you, my Seneschal, at a loss for words,” he tapped his finger on his lips, trying to look thoughtful. “Although,” he continued, “that would explain why you prefer poking things with your knives.”
“I’ll poke you with a knife,” Jude muttered, not looking at him, the coin glinting dully every so often as it flipped across her fingers.
Cardan barked out a laugh. “My Seneschal!” he exclaimed, clutching a hand to his heart dramatically. “You wound me so, after all not five minutes ago did you say that you wouldn’t murder me.”
“That’s not what I said,” Jude pointed out, looking sidelong at him. “I said that there would be no fun in just murdering you. I swear you only hear what you want to hear.”
“I have to admit that I am rather partial to keeping my insides on the inside and avoiding my murder where I can,” Cardan shrugged, using the movement to roll onto his side again and look at her. “And you, my Seneschal, are rather partial to avoiding my questions. Which makes me extremely intrigued. What secrets are you keeping in that pretty little head of yours?”
“Pretty?”
Damn. Again. Probably shouldn’t have necked the rest of that wine. “Just a figure of speech. Stop changing the subject.”
Jude closed her eyes, the coin in her hand stilling.
“When I was younger,” she started, eyes still closed. “My dad - not Madoc - my actual father, he used to take Vivi, Taryn and I out into the backyard of our house on clear nights like this.” She opened her eyes, blinking rapidly, not looking at him. “We’d lie on the grass on a red and white picnic blanket, wrapped up in blankets off our beds and he’d tell us stories about the constellations.” She paused, smiling sadly. Cardan held his breath, not wanting to disturb her. This was not what he’d expected. He thought that she’d been scheming up a plan to keep him firmly sat on his somewhat precarious throne. Not this.
Jude brushed angrily at her eyes, Cardan realised that she was wiping away tears. Oh.
“I can’t even remember what he looked like, not really. I wish we’d thought to take a picture of them with us when we left.” She scrubbed at her face again before looking back up into the sky with a frown, hands back along her sides. “I can’t remember his face, but I can still remember his stories. When we first came here, the three of us would huddle under the blankets of Vivi’s bed and tell the stories over and over again.” She pointed to a line of three stars. “Orion was my favourite.” She lapsed back into silence again. Cardan, still watching her closely, could see the unshed tears shining in her eyes. Oh, Jude.
He reached out and gently took one of her hands. “Would you share that story with me?” he asked, quietly. He rubbed gentle circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. Jude was silent for so long, he started to wonder if she’d even heard him ask, then she started to speak.
“Orion was a mighty giant, with hands that could crush rocks and footsteps that would rattle the glass in the windows. He was broad of shoulder and long of leg. But he was also a fine hunter, the best in the land. He could tiptoe through the woods and not a leaf would rustle; he could stalk through fields of corn and not an ear would bend at his approach,” Cardan noticed that she’d got a half smile on her face as the familiar words took her back to happier memories.
“With his black dog, Sirius, he would lead the villagers out on the hunt and every hunt was successful. He was a master of blade and bow and could even sing the fish out of the river. The villagers never went hungry, even in the depths of winter, and they loved their hunter very much. The children would ride Sirius, laughing as he leapt around the streets and meadows, their hands tangled deeply into his fur.”
Jude paused, a faraway look in her eyes.
“News of this great hunter came to the ears of the goddess Artemis, and intrigued by the stories of a hunter as mighty as herself, disguised herself as a villager and went to join him on the hunt. This particular hunt went on for days, they were tracking a mighty white stag, antlers wider than this!” she sat up and threw out her arms wide, her hand still in Cardan’s. “Antlers mightier than the biggest oak, hooves that shone like silver, fur whiter than the purest snow and eyes the same colour as Vivi’s.”
“What Orion didn’t know, and Artemis didn’t care to tell him, was that the stag was one of the Old Ones, who’d walked the earth long before even the gods and goddess trod upon the land. She was so caught up in the thrill of the chase that when the stag was cornered she didn’t see the danger that was barrelling down towards them like an avalanche until it was too late. Orion nocked his bow and shot the stag right in the heart. It reared up with an unearthly scream and cursed the hunter that had slew him. Artemis was screaming too when she realised what had happened and shedding her disguise ran to the stag, but it was too late.”
“Gaia, the mother of the Earth, felt her stag’s screams, heard his curse and was filled with a fury that set off earthquakes and tidal waves, so strong was her grief for one of her children. So furious was she that she sent a silver scorpion to Orion and it stung him on the ankle. A tiny sting, so small he barely felt it but it caused his doom nonetheless. Soon shivers wracked his body and his eyes dimmed. He lay down next to the stag and closed his eyes, his breathing stilled and there the mightiest hunter died, killed by one of the smallest creatures.”
“Artemis was heartbroken. She picked up his body and flew up to the heavens, to the borders of the night sky. She lay his body down and it transformed into stars, into what you see there, even now, above your head. Orion watches over all the hunters, those who stalk the night. See, he is still broad of shoulder and long of leg, his belt tight around his waist. If you wait patiently you may even see his tear for the life he took, a shooting star in the sky,” Jude’s voice broke as she tried to stifle a sob.
It took Cardan a couple of moments to realise that he was sitting up now too and pulling Jude to him, wrapping his arms around her while she cried into his shirt.
They sat there for what felt simultaneously as an age and also as not long enough. Jude’s crying stopped, although Cardan didn’t loosen his arms around her, just propped his chin on the top of her head.
“Thank you,” he murmured. “Thank you for sharing your story with me.” ‘Thanks’ were a very human thing, bereft of bargain and trickery, but Cardan was fully aware that faerie words were not what was needed right now.
Jude pulled away, wiping her eyes on the corner of her sleeve and Cardan reluctantly let her go. She smiled weakly at him, looking slightly embarrassed. “Shouldn’t you go back to the revel?” she said quietly. “I’m quite sure that by now the High King will be missed.”
Cardan threw himself back onto the grass and grinned up at her. “Nonsense,” he retorted. “The wine is flowing so freely that the Bomb could blow up the throne and no one would pay it any mind.” He stretched out one of his arms and folded the other under his head making himself comfortable. “Anyway, I’ve got an important meeting with my Seneschal.”
Jude frowned, confused. “We’ve not got a meeting.”
Cardan laughed and beckoned her with the fingers of his outstretched hand. “Quite to the contrary, dear Jude, your coin skills are severely lacking and I can’t have a Seneschal who can’t even roll a coin over her knuckles.”
Jude smiled back and shuffled closer, the coin pinched between her thumb and forefinger.
“I mean, how are you going to distract your enemy before you punch them in the face? Right then, let’s start with holding the coin properly…”
Sometimes he completely forgot that he hated her.
Sometimes he was completely aware that he felt something more…