Chapter Text
Cardan had changed since the fire. Jude didn’t notice it right away, but she hadn’t seen him drunk since that day. Nor had he thrown any debaucherous parties in his new room. Instead, he entertained in the throne room. Courtiers lounged lavishly around the dais in various states of drunkenness and stupor, but Cardan remained clear eyed. Jude wasn’t certain how she felt about this new development. Yes, he was getting into less trouble lately, and she thought she should be happy with that. Still, it left her unsettled for reasons she couldn’t name. He looked too comfortable on the throne. The crown’s jaunty angle was too natural on his head. The imperiousness in his eyes as he gazed over the cluster of admirers was looking less and less like a mask to his insecurities.
Maybe Jude could name the reasons for feeling unsettled, after all.
It was late morning, which along with the fact that some of Cardan’s guests were asleep, suggested that this was the dregs of some gathering that had begun the night before. Jude stepped carefully around snoring figures as she made her way to the throne. Cardan had yet to acknowledge her. He was deep enough in conversation with a lovely fae woman with mossy green hair and lavender eyes that it was possible he hadn’t even noticed Jude’s arrival yet.
“What would do it, I wonder,” the woman purred, running her silvery fingers down Cardan’s cheek. “What would it take to catch the king’s eye?”
“Some would say it’s very easily caught,” Cardan replied. Jude could hear the laugh in his voice. She couldn’t tell if he was mocking the woman or flirting. One was nearly indistinguishable from the other when it came to him. “Whether or not it can be kept is, I suppose, the better question.”
“What I catch, I always intend to keep.” The woman leaned in as if she were going to kiss him. That was when Cardan noticed Jude. He waved the woman off and sat up straighter.
“Are you up early?” he asked Jude. “Or have you also not gone to bed yet?” The truth was Jude had accidentally fallen asleep in her office. She had been on her way to bed when wandered past the throne room. Suddenly, the fact that she had no real reason to be here made her feel exposed somehow.
“I heard something happening,” she said, nonchalantly. “I thought I would see if it was something interesting.”
“And is it?” Cardan leaned forward, lips curled into a mocking smile and a gleam in his dark, dark eyes. Jude raised her brow and looked around the room at the courtiers, asleep or passed out or simply still drunk. With one more very loud look at Cardan she turned to leave. Before she was out of earshot, she heard the woman speaking to Cardan again.
“Perhaps his majesty’s eye has already been claimed,” she said in that throaty purr. “Perhaps I should be jealous.”
“Jealousy is such a waste of an emotion, Merewen,” Cardan laughed. “Particularly when you have spent so long making yourself so lovely.” Jude rolled her eyes and sped up before she had to hear any more of their inane banter. It was late, and there was a revel that night. All Jude wanted was a solid few hours of rest.
-:-:-:-:-:-:-
The constant revels were becoming boring. Jude didn’t dare say that to Cardan, though, for fear that he might take that as a challenge to make them more entertaining. Besides, she suspected he was beginning to feel the same, if the expression on his face was anything to go by. His mouth was twisted into a sneer, his brows raised mockingly as his subjects approached the dais. Those who dared to address him were wary of inciting their king’s ire, but Jude wasn’t fooled by his mask. He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t paying any attention at all. Five more inquiries, Jude promised silently. Then she would let everyone know that the king was done receiving for the evening. He could go do whatever he pleased, and she would see if she could get one of the Court of Shadows to keep an eye on him.
Jude shifted slightly, moving discreetly as she could to tug at the hem of her bodice. It was strange that this new gown wasn’t sitting quite as it should. She would have to have the seamstress come and take her own measurements instead of relying on Taryn’s. Twins though they were, it was becoming clear that their measurements weren’t quite so identical anymore. Still, Taryn did have good taste. Whatever other unresolved grievances she had with her sister, Jude could admit that she knew how to use clothing to tell a story. The gown she wore this evening was a rich garnet red with gold embroidered leaves, and real gold eyelets for her stays. It spoke of quiet power, and as she stood beside Cardan’s throne like a crimson shadow, she could tell by the wary and admiring looks she got from that evening’s revelers that she cut an impressive figure. It was simply too bad that the dress was horribly uncomfortable.
She tugged at the bodice again, frowning. It hadn’t felt so restricting when Tatterfell had helped her into it earlier that night, but as the revel drew on, it began chaffing. It was growing heavy, too. It almost felt as if it were getting tighter. She hadn’t eaten enough to be bloated, had she?
“If you’d like to remove your gown,” Cardan drawled, “I’d be more than happy to offer assistance.” The words were lost on Jude. She suddenly felt as if she were being squeezed by some invisible hand. Spots exploded in her vision as she clutched at the back of the throne with one hand and pulled at her stays with the other.
“Something’s wrong,” she gasped. “I can’t…I can’t breathe.” Cardan leapt up, and Jude heard him calling for a physician before she lost consciousness.
Cardan knelt beside Jude and stared at her in horror. Her limbs twitched weakly, as though she were still trying to pull at her dress. The revel had come to an abrupt halt as they watched the king’s seneschal fight an apparently losing battle for her life.
“Jude!” The crowd parted to allow Taryn to rush up to the dais. She sank to her knees beside her sister and shook her shoulders.
“Don’t do that!” Cardan snapped. “She may have hurt her head or…or…” He floundered, trying to think what could be wrong.
“Her lips are turning blue,” Taryn gasped. “Is she breathing?”
At that, Cardan stiffened. He looked from Jude’s face- her lips were indeed turning blue- to her dress. He’d seen her tugging at it for at least the last hour. Now he saw that her waist was cinched impossibly small. It hadn’t been pulled nearly so tight when she’d arrived that evening, he was certain.
Acting quickly, Cardan ran his hands along Jude’s legs, ignoring Taryn’s protests. When he found what he was looking for, he reached under the skirt of Jude’s dress for a dagger she kept strapped to her ankle. The deadly edge was sharp enough that he barely needed to apply any pressure to slice through the tightly laced stays. The results were, thankfully, immediate.
Jude nearly arched off of the floor with the ragged breath she took in. She coughed, curling her arms around her chest protectively. After a few moments, the coughing fit turned into a groan of agony.
“I think I broke a rib,” she hissed. “What happened?”
“Where did you get this dress?” Cardan asked.
“What?” Jude looked down at her shorn dress in confusion.
“The dress, Jude,” Cardan pressed. “Where did you get it?”
“I-it was one of the dresses Taryn got me,” Jude said. Cardan turned his dark gaze on Taryn, who shrank away fearfully.
“That is not one of the dresses I commissioned,” she told him. “I’ve never seen it before.”
“It was lying on my bed when I went to get ready,” Jude said frowning. “I thought-“
“I didn’t send you this dress,” Taryn insisted. She glanced nervously at Cardan. “I swear!”
“Didn’t you?” Cardan asked. Jude turned to him sharply when she heard the glamour slip into his voice.
“I didn’t,” Taryn confirmed dreamily before Jude could snap at Cardan.
“What was that about?” Jude demanded. She looked between the two before realizing that they still had an audience. The revelers were watching them on the dais, like they were acting a play for their entertainment. Hushed whispers were rolling across the room, and from what Jude could hear, it seemed they were all very interested in her dress, too. Cardan motioned to someone, and suddenly, the Bomb was at her side.
“Get the others,” Cardan ordered. “We’ll be in Jude’s rooms.” With that, he pulled Jude to her feet and hurried her out of the brugh. Taryn followed close behind.
“Why did you glamor her?” Jude demanded when they got to her room. “Tell me what’s going on!”
“It’s okay, Jude,” Taryn assured her. “I’m fine.”
“Of course you’re fine,” Cardan scoffed. “I didn’t harm her, Jude. I was just confirming that this wasn’t some treachery on her part.”
“Treachery!” Taryn repeated incredulously. Cardan turned to her with one brow raised.
“It wouldn’t be the first time, would it?” Taryn’s mouth slammed shut, and her face colored a deep red. An uncomfortable silence fell over the room for a long moment, and Jude looked away from Taryn.
“Take the dress off.” Jude balked at Cardan’s tone, but with Taryn in the room, she couldn’t really do much else.
“Excuse me?”
“The dress is cursed,” Cardan told her. “Unless you’d like to see what other nasty surprises it may be hiding, I suggest you change out of it immediately.”
The memory of the moments before she blacked out came back at once. Jude gasped, pulling at her ruined gown, then she hurried into her bedroom to change. She tore the gown off, throwing it to the floor. It looked changed, somehow. The golden embroidery no longer looked as gilded. The fabric now seemed threadbare, like one of the Liriope’s lovely rotting gowns. With a shudder, she quickly threw on an old pair of sweats and a tee shirt she’d gotten in the mortal world some time ago. From her sitting room, she heard the arrival of the others. She gathered up the remains of the gown and went out to greet them.
Taryn sat primly on the corner of the couch while Cardan was bringing the others up to speed with what happened at the revel. All conversation ceased when Jude walked out. Everyone’s eye fell on her and for a moment, she wanted to go back into her room.
“Are you alright?” Taryn asked.
“I’m fine,” Jude said. “The dress didn’t come to life to strangle me…again.” She held up the pieces. “It’s changed, though. It looks dingier.” The Ghost came up and took the dress, examining the seams.
“There was a curse on this dress,” he said. “A fairly powerful one, from what I can tell.”
“Well, we guessed that much.” Cardan rolled his eyes. The Ghost didn’t seem to take offence, but Jude shot him a disapproving look before turning back to the Ghost.
“Who would give me a cursed gown?”
“Where did it come from?” The Bomb asked.
“It was on my bed when I came to get ready,” Jude said with a shrug. “I thought Tatterfell had laid it out for me.” Cardan exchanged glances with the Court. The accusation remained unspoken, but it reverberated around the room nonetheless.
“You don’t think Tatterfell is responsible?” Jude scoffed.
“Of course it wasn’t Tatterfell!” Taryn said hotly. “She loves Jude.”
“Well, I wouldn’t got that far, but no way Tatterfell is behind this.” Jude shook her head vehemently. “Not a chance.”
“I’d rather hear that from her,” Cardan said, raising his brow. He turned to the Roach. “See if you can find her.” Jude huffed and rolled her eyes.
“Don’t bother.” She went to a velvet rope next to the fireplace and tugged. A minute later, Tatterfell entered the room.
“Something you need?” she asked, sparing only the barest glimpse to everyone else.
“Do you know where the dress I wore tonight came from?” Jude asked her.
“It was laid out on your bed,” Tatterfell told her matter-of-factly. “I thought you had chosen it.”
“Did you know it was cursed?” Cardan asked.
“What?” Tatterfell normally staid expression fell into shock. She whirled back to Jude, her eyes wide. “What happened?”
“My dress tried to strangle me,” she explained. “I’m fine, though. I just have a bruised rib, I think.”
“You must know I had nothing to do with it,” Tatterfell said, now understanding why she had been summoned. Jude sighed and nodded.
“I didn’t think you had,” she assured her maid. “Cardan just wanted to be sure.” Taterfell eyed the king with an unreadable expression.
“That does leave us without any suspects,” the Bomb said. “Was there anyone unusual around?”
“I saw no one,” Tatterfell said. “I wasn’t here the entire day up to the revel, but while I was around, I didn’t see so much as a washer or runner.”
“And I was only in my room to get ready, so there was plenty of time for someone to slip in with the dress,” Jude surmised. “I’ve been receiving so many deliveries of clothes, it wouldn’t have been difficult, either.”
“Are you sure it was a powerful curse?” Taryn asked the Ghost. “After all, it wasn’t as if it was difficult to break.”
“It had to be a strong one,” he explained. “I saw the dress earlier, and it wasn’t so dingy as this.” He held up the gown. It had rapidly deteriorated. Now it was closer to the muddy brown color of dried blood than the crimson it had been when Jude had put it on. The gold thread had completely faded to a sickly yellow. Even the stitching looked haphazard. Whatever enchantment had been placed on it to make it look as beautiful as it had was worn off, and the fabric looked like it had come from a pile of refuse. Jude shuddered at the thought of it touching her skin all night.
“Only a powerful spell could have fooled all of our eyes,” the Bomb agreed. “But Taryn is right. It was far too easy to break for it to have been a serious attempt on Jude’s life.”
“Perhaps it was a prank,” the Roach suggested.
“Some prank,” Jude snorted. She folded her arms and glowered at the gown. “Who would do something so asinine?”
“Let’s see,” Cardan drawled, tapping his chin making an exaggerated show of thinking. “Who do we have in our acquaintance who would find the spectacle of you nearly dying mid-revel funny? Who could possibly be that eager for such wild and storied entertainment?”
“Locke did not do this!” Taryn jumped to her feet and glared at Cardan. For a moment, Jude thought her sister was going to hit him, but then Cardan turned his coldest stare onto her, and Taryn remembered who she was speaking to. She bowed her head and gave a quick, apologetic curtsy, and Jude fought the urge to roll her eyes.
“I only mean,” Taryn said demurely, “that Locke wouldn’t harm my sister that way.”
“We are all aware of how, exactly, Locke would cause her harm,” Cardan sniffed. “I would question him regardless. I assume he’s still here.”
“I believe so.” Taryn had yet to raise her eyes to Cardan again. Her voice was quiet, but Jude heard the edge in it. She was angry and trying very hard not to let it show.
“In that case we will find him now. Come with me.” Cardan nodded to the Court. He turned to leave, sweeping his slate grey cloak dramatically. Jude bit down on the inside of her lips to keep from snickering at him. Taryn fell into line behind them, determined to stand by her husband-to-be, it seemed. Cardan paused in the hall when he realized that Jude wasn’t with them. He shot her a quizzical look.
“Aren’t you joining the inquest?” he asked. Jude held her hand up and shook her head.
“I’ll pass,” she said. “This can only end one of two ways. Either he didn’t do it, and this is going to be a waste of time, or he did do it and I’ll be forced to stab him in front of Taryn.” Her twin gasped, but Jude ignored her. “I’m tired and sore. I’d really just like to go to bed.” Cardan looked as though he were going to argue, but he thought better of it and shrugged.
“We’ll send word when we find out,” he told her instead.
Tatterfell shut the door behind them and turned to Jude. She eyed her charge’s mortal clothing distastefully.
“You could be sleeping in silk,” she reminded Jude. “Or even linen, yet you choose…” She gestured to Jude’s sweats and tee-shirt (the one with the shrill green alien and his robot companion from a cartoon she vaguely remembered from years ago).
“I was nearly strangled to death by silk brocade,” Jude said. “I think I’ll stick with cotton and polyester.” Tatterfell let out a long-suffering sigh before ushering Jude to her bedroom.
“Well, off to rest,” she ordered Jude. “I’ll send for some tea to help you sleep. And something for your pain.” She fussed over Jude for another few minutes before finally leaving her to sleep, but as she drifted off, Jude could hear Tatterfell busying herself in the sitting room. She fell into a dreamless sleep with something like a smile on her face.
The next day, Cardan was up just after noon, startlingly early for him. He found Jude on her way to see to some preparations for the arrival of one of the more powerful of the Solitary Fae.
“It wasn’t Locke,” he told her without preamble. There was a grim set to his face, and if Jude didn’t know better, she would have thought Cardan was disappointed.
“It was a long shot,” Jude said, shrugging. “I could believe that Locke is vicious enough to do something like that, but the execution was far too subtle. I’m sure Taryn is grateful that I don’t have to kill him now.” She shut her door and started off down the hall. Cardan fell into step with her.
“Is that all?” He raised his brows.
“Is what all?”
“Is that all your reaction? Someone did just try to kill you.”
“And how am I supposed to react?” Jude asked. “Cry about it? It’s not like it’s the first time someone’s played a mean joke and nearly killed me. It’s only the most elaborate.” She glanced up to find that Cardan had stopped walking with her. He stood several feet behind her. “What is it?”
“I just-“Cardan shut his mouth and looked away. “We truly must have been awful for all of this to seem normal to you.” It was as close to an apology as Jude had ever gotten from him. Part of her wanted to absolve him, she realized with a start. To tell him she’d forgiven him at some point and didn’t even realize she had until just then. What a horrifying discovery.
“You’d be surprised what you can get used to,” she told him instead. Cardan let out a short, dry laugh.
“I supposed that’s true,” he agreed. Jude continued her way down the hall. After a moment, she heard Cardan follow.