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Cardan Greenbriar considered very few things sacred in his life.
His clothes. The material of the fabric should be of great quality, meticulously made with careful skilled hands. The cutting should be precise too, fitting him just right; the sleeves cuffed at his wrists, his blouses and shirts and doublets hemmed with the perfect length to tuck into his breeches or perfectly at his waist. If there was such a thing as a religion for clothes, Cardan would undoubtedly join it. Perhaps he would begin a cult for it, and begin constructing an enormous altar.
No, if he were to build a structure of worship it would be for his wife and High Queen, Jude Duarte, the next thing he found sacred. He’d plant trees with bark the colour of her long tresses. Cardan would light fire with the fury of her murderous eyes and paint the columns a deep maroon after all the blood she’d ruthlessly spilled. He would also scatter delicate petals across the floors, to remind all that despite her fearsome appearances, Jude still had a gentle loving touch.
A loving touch she sometimes tyrannically abuses.
Cardan stared at the gilded jar, wrought from gold and carefully painted with textured vines. Such a magnificent container for such magnificent cookies. He reached his spindly fingers within them, plucking a single piece. Chips of chocolate were mixed with the dough, allowing an explosion of chocolate taste coating Cardan’s tongue. Then, the absolute best part, the sprinkle of Undersea salt, carefully extracted from the sea waters. A carefully balanced concoction of flavour, promising a kaleidoscope of sinfully delicious bursts of perfection with each careful bite.
The cookies had been a present from Vivi, the product of a half-mortal’s excellent idea of combining the humans’ favourite delicacy with the magic of Elfhame. He guessed Vivienne to be that innovative half-faerie to be no other than Vivi herself but she’d carefully skirted around the topic, neither admitting or denying and refusing to leave out any hints at all.
One act that Vivi did confess to commit, however, was this incredibly clever spell casted on this beautiful jar. Although an already incredible piece of work, an enchantment had been woven into the jar’s lid and the very cookies it contained. One that improved the already perfect give in a way even Cardan had yet to discover how.
For every cookie he consumed, another would find itself within the jar. “An infinity cookie glitch,” Vivi had mused, grinning from ear to ear. Proud with her invention. It had warmed Cardan’s worm-eaten heart to receive such a kind gift. Even more so when Vivi had pulled him into a hug and comforted him, saying, “Never forget we are still friends.” Though he had married her younger sister long ago, they had been friends longer. The only Duarte he could befriend since his late sister, Princess Rhyia was also good friends with Vivienne.
Beyond ecstatic was Cardan’s mood since he’d been gifted the jar. He’d expected Vivi to give her sister one too but she’d shaken her head and insisted Jude abhorred to receive chocolate chip cookies. (She was among those who deeply disliked cookies of any kind.) This newly found information had greatly disturbed Cardan’s state of mind, deep enough that he’d settled onto the bed beside Jude and held out the jar beneath her nose. So she could sniff the addictive aroma, so she would love the cookies just as much as he did.
Reluctantly, she’d taken a piece. Jude took a bite and Cardan anxiously watched her swallow the cookie only for her to pull a disgusted frown. “It tastes ridiculous, so much sugar!” Jude groaned, greedily gulping down water to wash out the taste.
He rolled his eyes and reached for another cookie, this time for his own consumption. But he realised something had occurred, the jar was the slightest gram lighter. (He’d know since he carried the golden jar wherever he met.) Eyeing its content, Cardan realised with slightly muted horror that there was one less than there usually was. If someone besides Cardan Greenbriar ate these cookies then they would not replenish. It was such a faerie enchantment he wondered why the twist had set him off so much. Noticing Jude was still staring at him, he pretended at normalcy though his nervous laugh must’ve given it away.
His wife’s eyes lit with familiar mischief. He would know, so often did he see the same mischief colouring his own expression. It soon faded though, not without a “Now I have suitable blackmail for when you mess up.”
Cardan had been walking on eggshells since then. He even commissioned for the servants to make him a satchel for his jar. So there would never be a moment where the jar was unattended, in case he’d wronged Jude without her knowing. But Jude always made it clear he’d know if he was under attack, he would be the first to know if he messed up, she had said. Cardan did know now, he knew it with every anxious beat of his pacing heart. He had messed up. It was supposed to be a harmless prank, Jude was supposed to look up at him with mirth not absolute fury. (He should’ve known not to mess with her armour next time though he doubted he’d live long enough to warrant a next time.)
He began noticing the missing cookies last night. Cardan did not entirely understand how. He’d gone to bed when she’d been fast asleep and woke up while she was still mumbling her incoherent sleep talk. The next few nights, he slept with the golden jar wrapped in his arms but still, the morning after, he would find that the cookies were beginning to lessen one by one. By the end of the second week, Cardan had marched up to his wife, still slightly frightened but feigning bravery for his beloved sea salt chocolate chip cookies.
“Stop taking my cookies,” Cardan warned. He twisted the lid open to reveal that the cookies left were half of what there used to be. “You did this, Jude. Admit it.”
Right then, as Jude shook her head with a smug, “No,” did Cardan really begin to despise how humans could lie so easily.
“What do you even do with them? You find them disgusting so I know you would not eat them, not even to spite me. So I ask you, dear nemesis, where are you keeping my cookies hostage?” Jude shrugged her shoulders, the fabrics of her gauzy skirt twisting with the nonchalant movement. He would find out, he would reclaim his beloved cookies.
So the morning after, he’d tied Jude up against the bed post and searched for all the weapons he knew she’d scattered around the room. Often did Cardan warn her to minimise the daggers and knives (an incident involving the tearing of a favourite shirt influenced this warning) but Jude always shrugged him off, insisting she only had her favoured sword and the two knives she kept near her when she slept, the one beneath her pillow and the other hidden in the lamp.
Cardan had the rough locations of each one, it was not hard to think of where his wife would hide such things. She’d know he’d search for the least obvious places first so all he had to do was go against this expectation. It did not take long to locate each dagger, or at least each blade that he could find. Even then, there were a whole lot, each, he knew, held deep sentimental value. He carefully placed them in a box and shoved them within the box of ruffle blouses he’d purchased her. The one box she would never touch.
“Cardan, why am I tied up?” Jude asked, voice hoarse from just waking. Then, more panicked, “Cardan, what did you do!” Cardan had no doubt whatsoever she had a radar for these things.
“Tell me where you hid my cookies,” Cardan demanded, settling beside her atop the bed. When she refused to speak, he lowered his mouth to smother her neck with kisses. “Please, Jude?” He kissed her again and again and again. It didn’t help that he poked her hips a few times either, eliciting a few gasping giggles. “If you won’t tell me, I am holding your knives hostage.”
“You what?” Cardan did not realise his wife was equipped with the skill of untying ropes single-handedly. He should’ve known though, at least then he wouldn’t be entirely stunned when she gripped his arms with the strength of a thousand faerie trolls. “You tell me where you hid those blades, Cardan. They have no place in this quarrel, it stays between us.”
“They have everything to do with this quarrel, they are the hostages of war. You involved them the moment you involved my cookies!”
“Fine, I actually ate them, okay?” Jude released her grip on his arms, leaving behind little crescent-moon divots. “They were actually so good. There was a sweet aftertaste in my mouth and I couldn’t resist having more. Now untie my ankles so I can take back my babies,” she grumbled.
As Cardan gently undid the ties, he looked up at her, confused. “I never told you where I hid them, how would you know?”
“I just do, Cardan. I just do.”