Work Text:
I wake up bathed in deep blue light, sun sunken beneath the horizon. Turning to lie on my other side, I find Cardan’s arm stretched towards me, hand curled a few inches from my face. He is fully dressed, shirt stiff with dried blood. I am disturbed until I remember the events of the revel last evening, and then I’m surprised to be alive. His face is angelic in sleep, until his brow furrows and he begins to whimper. It’s difficult to make out his speech, until his pleas rise in pitch. I realize that he’s saying a single, desperate word.
My name.
. . .
We lounged on our thrones, surveying the revel beneath us. Cardan’s shirt was partially unbuttoned; his taut abdomen was visible between the blue silk. I wore an ivory dress that reached my ankles and clung to me like melted wax. Intricate spirals were stitched into the fabric, and I’d been draped in jeweled chains that tinkled with every moment.
From a shadowed corner, I caught the Bomb’s glowing eyes. We exchanged a smile, and I inclined my head to the opposite corner where I knew the Roach was posted. She grinned and began to weave through the merry dancers, but she didn’t make it halfway before slamming to the ground as arrows whistled over her head. Several empty thunks met my ears, and I whipped my head around to see a slender ash arrow lodged centimeters from Cardan’s face. The next sound I heard were shrieks, and barked commands as the guards charged towards two solitary figures atop a banquet table. They both wore feathered masks, but I could tell that one was female, the other male. As I looked closer, I saw that their feet were crushing the lavish arrangement of fruit. A deep wine stain from a cluster of grapes began to run down the tablecloth. Crazed smiles took over their faces as they shot again, and Cardan and I slammed to the floor. I reached inside my boot.
As I heard the arrows strike, I stood and hurled my dagger with every ounce of force I possessed.
It stuck squarely in the male attacker’s chest with a resounding thud. Only the hilt was visible.
He staggered a step backwards, but there was nothing there. He toppled out of view.
His companion gave an enraged wail, and I swiped a second dagger strapped to my calf, but she leaped down after the man. I watched my dagger flash upwards, blood spraying in an arc. The next instant, the guards were on them, swords drawn. They did not need to use them.
The Bomb and the Roach arrived immediately after the guards, having sprinted nearly the entire length of the ballroom. The Roach glanced at our thrones and began to nod, but his face twisted in alarm. The revelers cowering beneath tables or behind pillars gasped and cried out. My first thought was Cardan. I whipped my head around.
He was wholly untouched, staring at me with an expression of deep horror. “Jude…”
When I looked down, I was met with an almost entirely red dress.
Just above a chain of sapphires, a slender arrow had lodged in my torso. Another must have grazed my arm, because it was coated in a sleeve of blood. A gentle, throbbing pain set in.
I felt myself being cradled, which was fortunate because I couldn’t feel my legs anymore. Cardan was carrying me through the halls.
I tried to touch his face, his beautiful face, but my fingers shook and dropped.
Agony bloomed in my abdomen as he took a flight of stairs at a sprint, jostling the arrow. I allowed my head to flop down, and before Cardan lifted it up and pressed me tighter against him, I saw the river of blood behind us.
I realized that I was going to die.
I reached for the magic of the land, as I had when Madoc stabbed me, but the roots evaded my weak grasp.
I slammed my eyes closed and mustered everything I had left. I begged the earth to help me.
My call disappeared into the darkness.
I didn’t want to die. I must have said something, because Cardan was speaking to me. And he was setting me on a bed.
Our bed.
“Shh,” he soothed. “You’re going to be alright.” But for how calm his voice was, his eyes revealed his terror. His hands grasped the neckline of my dress and tore it in half to expose my crimson stomach. He pressed one hand against it, bracing another on the arrow.
He was shaking worse than me.
“I’ll do it quickly,” he promised, and wrenched the arrow from my body.
I woke up a few seconds later. Everything I saw was red, except for the small blue flowers were blooming along the bedsheets. Forget-me-nots.
I wondered how long it would take Cardan to forget me.
I clawed violently at life, but the cliff was turning to sand.
I felt his hands pressing against my stomach. He was talking to me, but I couldn’t focus on the words.
The current tugged at my feet.
Numbly, I watched vines explode from the floor around us. Something came through the window to our left, and I tracked the rainbow spray of glass as it shot across the room. Sweat had beaded around Cardan’s forehead.
And the wound was closing.
My naked body was covered in drying blood, lying half inside my ruined dress. The small hole that should have killed me was now no more than a puckered scar.
Cardan looked up at me, hands braced on either side of me. His face was deeply concerned, almost humorous considering that his default expression is an arrogant smirk. I laughed, then remembered how much blood I’d lost.
His eyes were red. I stared up at the ceiling.
I felt his head fall against my sternum.
. . .
“Jude,” Cardan cries. “No, Jude, please.” His body twists, as if contorting itself in agony.
“Jude. Jude.”
His pained words transition to sobs. I am not sure what to do.
Briefly, I consider calling for the guards. Instead, I reach for his hand and press it to my lips. His skin is warm with sleep, but his fingers flex frantically against my mouth.
He flinches.
“Cardan,” I whisper. “Wake up.”
His eyes snap open almost instantly, wide and panicked. Then they focus on me. He looks deeply ashamed. “I’m sorry if I woke you,” he says quietly.
I shake my head. “Was that a nightmare?” I hate how condescending I sound.
He nods slowly, eyes darting downward. “They usually worsen after I experience terror, or stress. Sometimes after euphoria, too. They’re trying to warn me it won’t last.” He smiles grimly.
He smiles when he’s nervous.
“I’m alive,” I remind him. “You saved me.”
He stares at my stomach, eyes dark. I follow his gaze.
The skin is smooth and clean, no sign of scarring. He must have bathed me after I fell asleep. Yet he’s still wearing his bloody shirt.
I decide to be brave.
“I love you.”
He looks up at me, shock written plainly on his face. “Don’t say that.”
Embarrassment prickles in my stomach, and I know I shouldn’t have told him. I contemplate leaving, but my head still feels light and swirling. All at once, I feel the stinging humiliation that was so common before I had any power.
I cross my arms over my stomach and glare down at them.
“Sorry.” My voice is low and upset.
He’s silent. After a few minutes, he lets out a shaky exhale.
“No. I love you.” The words are barely a whisper. His hair falls in dark, messy ringlets that frame his narrowed eyes. I once mistook that look for cruelty. Now, I realize it’s trepidation.
There’s a sharp pain in my chest that wasn’t brought about by the arrow.
I reach for him, and he comes to me, lying between my legs. As his body settles against mine, a sob shudders through him.
Oh, Cardan.
His body is warm against mine. His hair is soft between my fingers. I comb through the curls, brushing against his scalp. It feels strangely intimate, touching a part of him that has never seen the sun.
“Please,” Cardan whispers into my sternum. “Please don’t leave me.”
His tail tightens around my calf, and a memory flashes across the bare ceiling.
The blank eyes of the human servant, and the crack of Balekin’s belt.
The desperate look on Cardan’s mouth as he lunged for his sword. Balekin’s cruel voice promising him mercy if he killed the human.
And Cardan’s quiet resignation: ‘I am no murderer.’
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I promise. He laughs softly, sending a hum through my body. His arms wrap around my waist as he buries his face against me.
It feels odd and a little ticklish to be so open with him, but I imagine we could get used to it.
I smile up at the ceiling.