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“Jude.” Cardan called up to the tree in which I perched. He was not angry, exactly. But he was surely displeased.
“Shh,” I whispered sharply at him. Now was not the time for his disapproval. Not when any more sound from either of us was likely to scare off my target. Cardan just crossed his arms and glowered up at me. I tried not to think of how much I liked that look on his face.
Honestly, I was a little surprised he hadn’t discovered me sooner. I had been up here for an hour already, waiting for the harpy I was hunting to appear. The creature was a mischievous little thing that had been preying on the marketplace for over a fortnight. And, given that I was skilled enough with a bow to be able to handle the problem from a distance with very little risk to myself, I gladly robbed one of our knights of the glory of taking the little pest down.
Cardan, of course, was utterly exasperated at my conveying a plan to capture this newest inconvenience to the crown. ‘A task for which we have knights,’ he’d said. Indeed, it was. But I am no knight. Madoc made sure of that.
No, I am the Queen.
I had to remind myself of that, sometimes. That I had power here, and that I could choose to use it if I wished. And despite Cardan believing otherwise, I would never feel like I didn’t need to earn my place beside him.
Besides, every monster that I hunt down was one less threat that the crown faced. Threats that could hurt me, or hurt Cardan. I may be feared in this land—for my viciousness, my reputation. I may even be disliked for my mortality. But Cardan was positively adored by the Folk, and I would always protect him. Once as his seneschal, now as his wife. As his Queen.
He thinks me brash and unpredictable, that I am doing this because I seek the thrill of it. And, perhaps he is right. But he is also wrong.
I do it because I love Elfhame, and I love him, and they are one and the same now. I know he is clever enough to understand this, but I think sometimes that he chooses not to. I think, sometimes, that be believes he must earn me, too.
He doesn’t.
He’s had me entwined around his heart of ice far longer than I’d ever care to admit. It was his cleverness that I saw first, a knack for scheming and design that is truly unparalleled; a feat in the land of the Folk. It was his grand scheme that got me here in the first place. I wonder, then, if I’ve taken the time to remind him of that recently. Of how much I am impressed by him. Of how I believe that he is a great King.
I steal a glance down at the High King of Elfhame, now lounging against the trunk of the tree below. His legs are crossed at the ankles, and he is sitting peacefully, reading a small book that he must have pulled from his pocket. It looks to be no bigger than his palm. An odd sort of thing.
Despite his casual demeanor, I can tell that he was irritated by my decision to come here today. Not because I chose to do it. But because I chose to do it, yet I’d told him just yesterday that I wouldn’t.
In my defense, I did mean it when I told him that I wouldn’t hunt the harpy. I just neglected to inform him that I’d changed my mind.
I pulled the string of my bow tighter, trying not to think about how I’d still deceived him, and how a pit of guilt yawned open in my stomach at the thought. The wood of the bow groaned beneath my hands.
In the periphery of my vision, I saw what I’d been waiting for. My head snapped over, gaze locking on the little monster as it dangled its head over the drapery of a shop.
“Got you,” I whispered, and let my bolt fly.
It struck true, exactly where I had intended it to go. The harpy yelped as it was suddenly pinned to the building it had been resting on, the bolt pierced straight through its shambly excuse for a shirt. Quickly, I raised myself to balance on my feet, then jumped unsteadily to the thickest limb of a nearby tree. And although he said nothing, I could practically hear Cardan holding his breath. I knew he was watching me.
From the thicker branch, I leapt down to the small balcony on the side of the shop, then scaled the gutter up to the roof. Quick. Easy. I was walking towards the harpy within a few seconds of shooting it down.
The creature still wriggled and squirmed as it tried to rip its way out of its clothes. But it stopped fighting as I reached it, looking down.
It was a small, ugly little thing, with terribly sharp teeth and a vicious face set in a snarl. It glared up at me, eyes bright and hateful.
“Mortals do not rule me,” it spat, “and you are not my queen.” I just smiled down at it.
“Perhaps you may think they can’t rule you. But they certainly can catch you, can’t they?”
The creature just thrashed and snarled. From her perch across the roof, the Bomb made her way nimbly over to us, carrying bindings in her hands. She would detain the harpy and then haul it down to the ground, where the Roach no doubt stood waiting.
I turned to leap from the surface just as the Bomb began her work. I heard the creature still writhing as my feet met the balcony below. “Struggling will only make it harder for you,” the Bomb’s childlike voice sounded over the edge.
With a heavy sigh, I hauled myself to the ground and began walking over to where Cardan still sat, legs crossed and back to reading his book under the tree. When I approached, he looked up at me and closed the book. He raised his eyebrows, inviting me to speak. ‘Well?’ He seemed to say.
“I’m sorry that I changed my mind,” I said abruptly as I stopped before him. I didn’t want him to have the chance to call me a liar. I wasn’t one. Not exactly. Not today, at least.
“Ah,” was all he said, arms crossing at the last bit of my sentence. Changed my mind.
“I see you’ve mastered yet another of our ways.” He was, of course, referring to the Folk’s uncanny ability to mislead you with a simple turn of phrase. Something true, but not quite the truth you were asking for.
“And,” I said, lowering myself down to sit beside him. I reached my hand out and let my fingers graze the skin on his neck. It was unfathomably soft. “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about it,” I finished my earlier apology. Cardan rolled his eyes, but in that moment, I could tell from the resigned sigh he made, the way his arms went around my waist and he pulled me onto his lap, that he decided to let himself believe what I was saying. And just because he’d opened his heart enough to allow that—something that was still so foreign to him and the effort of which was not lost on me—I resolved in that moment to push my way into his heart even further.
“And,” I lifted my hands to cup his face and look into his eyes. The ring of gold seemed to shine brighter as I spoke to him. “I love you.”
He blinked at me, a curious expression crossing his face.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked.
He just shook his head and laughed. “I’m certain that you’ll never stop surprising me. Here I was, prepared to have it out with you. A nasty little row that would likely end in you scratching claws across my face. Yet here you are, telling me something quite nice.” I shoved his shoulder and he laughed again.
But then I remember my earlier thought—about telling him that he’s clever. About letting him know, making sure he knew, just in case he needed to remember it for himself sometimes; just like I had to constantly remind myself that I was worthy of being the Folk’s Queen.
I made my face serious again and looked at him. His laugh guttered out as he beheld the expression on my face. His eyes began searching mine.
“I want to keep fighting monsters,” I whispered to him. “I want to keep fighting for Elfhame.” He listened patiently.
“And I want you beside me while I do it. On every adventure I go on.” Cardan’s eyes darted back and forth between my own.
“Because you are clever,” I said, starting to smile, “and funny.” His face slowly lights in a smile that spreads across his gorgeous face. He is recalling our earlier words all that time ago, when we were alone after his curse was broken. The first time that I told him I loved him. The first time that I told him why.
“And so unfortunately handsome,” I drawl, and kiss him. His lips are soft, and the kiss is tender.
I remember my vow all those months ago—my vow to myself that if I could not be better than the Folk, then I would strive to be worse than them. I think of how much has changed, and how I no longer want what I thought I wanted then. I do want to be better, but in a different way. And, I think, I am now.
“But mostly,” I say, and move to kiss the soft skin of his neck. “Because I am so much better with you by my side.”
He raises his eyebrows at that.
I do not give him the chance to doubt my words. I am not lying.
I lean close to him as if I’m going to kiss him again, but stop just before I do. “Will you always come with me?” I breathe against his mouth. “I want us to fight the monsters together. Always by each other’s side.”
He smiles against my lips, and it is warm, and sincere, and something out of a dream I could’ve had when I hated that I wanted him, but wanted him all the same. A smile that I doubt many of the Folk in Elfhame have ever seen.
His eyes are bright. “For as long as you ask it of me,” was all he replied. He kissed me then, and we held each other in the grass. We kissed and kissed under the cover of the trees, hidden from sight by the shadows they cast as the sun moved its way across the sky. The High King and his Queen, exchanging silent promises to each other in the breeze.