Chapter Text

Chapter 1

I have always despised the palace. All of the fanciful courtiers and the revelries excluded, it was a dreadful place. Not that anyone other than myself should ever find that particular resentment out. Why should I even be thinking such things at the moment? There's a goblet of my most beloved spiced wine in my right hand, my left occupied with holding me up as I lean against a table in a shadowy alcove of the great hall, tuning out whatever argument Nicasia and Valerian are engaging in. My eyes track the movements of the room. The night is young with it not even having reached midnight yet, and I myself have been taken aback with how this is only my second cup of the spiced drink.

The people of court have already become heady with their dancing and their drinking, indulging in tonight's pleasantries while I have resigned myself to my circle of  “friends”. If the other members of the Gentry were to find out truly how little trust we had in each other than I am sure they wouldn’t fear us as they do now, which is dangerous because we must hold all of the power. 

It is amusing, I suppose. Watching them cower. Especially the circle of worms. A sneer appears on my face when I notice them hiding behind a large mass of shimmering rock that juts out into a ledge just beside the second landing of stone steps. Looks like it's time for the fun to begin.

I throw back the rest of my wine rather than leaving it to waste, placing the now empty goblet onto the table. I quickly adjusted my clothes, my long black coat with a high, jagged collar, the whole thing stitched with a pattern of constellations was entirely fine, but I refuse to take chances with my outfits. I might be the youngest and least important of the High King Eldred’s children, but that didn’t mean I didn’t have a reputation to uphold. Not for my father’s sake of course, but for my own. 

“Quit your bickering, the both of you,” I ordered, giving them a bored look. Nicasia and Valerian whipped around to me, looking for all the world as though they were to continue their squabbling with me. “We must contend with the dirt.” I waved my hand as I spoke, a light chuckle in my words.

Now for the fun to begin.

I push through them, leading and wending our way through the crowd of dancing Faeries. Valerian and Nicasia trail closely behind me, the former in deep red with cabochon rubies sparkling on his cuffs, each like a drop of frozen blood. Nicasia is making a minor spectacle of herself,moving in ways with which she knows will bring the attention of others upon herself. Her cerulean hair is gleaming like the ocean, crowned with pearls to mimic seafoam, a glittering cobweb net covers her braids. She looks nothing short of radiant. Locke follows behind the pair, looking bored, his hair the precise colour of fox fur.

“Hiding now, are they?” Valerian smirks.

“I wouldn’t say they're hiding. Just keeping away like the filth they know they are,” Nicasia responds, and at that Valerian lets out a cruel laugh.

I roll my eyes. “Let’s just get down to business. I’m bored and would like for at least some entertainment.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll provide plenty of that,” Locke agrees, keeping at a slight distance. I ignore the urge to strangle him. He’s my friend, but that doesn’t mean I cannot have a deep and burning dislike for him at times. After all, if it weren’t for him I wouldn’t need to make the mortals miserable to be able to enjoy myself in one of my most favoured settings.

We near them, people fling into kneels, bows, and curtsies at our sides. Including them.

Despite them being identical I’ve never had much difficulty with identifying who was who. It was rather obvious to me. 

The elder twin, Taryn, always had the complete appearance of obedience and the glimmer of fear in her eyes, no matter where she ventured. Jude, on the other hand, was always forcing obedience. She always gritted her teeth and pure undiluted hatred simmered in her eyes when she was forced to kneel or curtsey in my presence. And always when we’re both around one another I could feel her mind reeling with thoughts of ending me, only for her to battle against it for her “fathers” sake. 

Madoc is my fathers General war lord. Jude and Taryn are his wife’s children from after she faked hers and the baby in her womb's death and ran away with her mortal lover. Or something like that. I’ve never really cared for the tale. It was a completely embarrassing thing for the General. The point is that is their reasoning for being thrust into the life of Faerie court. It was repulsive, to say the least.

We were at their side now, continuing this torturous moment for them. I continued ahead by a few paces, only to make the moment seem coincidental in a way.

Valerian pauses, grabbing one of Jude’s braided horns and yanks harshly. He sneers down at her and the corner of my mouth tilts up into a crooked smirk. “Did you think I didn’t see you there? You and your sister stand out in any crowd,” he says, leaning in closer to her. It might just be the wine I’ve consumed but I’m ready to burst out loud in laughter. Her hands ball into fists at her side and the wicked thoughts that I was sure to be fantasies of murder returned to the front of her gaze, making her almost terrifying to meet eye to eye with. I couldn’t be more glad that it was Valerian in that positioning rather than I. “No other head so dull, no other faces so plain.”

“Valerian,” I call. I was already back to glowering, but now that her eyes are on me, mine narrow even more at her.

He gives her braid a hard tug. She winces, her attempt to muffle it a failure. Seldom will I ever find her useless fury and pain to be hysterical. 

We have not made it so far for us to be unable to hear them speak. “What did he say to you?” Taryn asked, only for her question to go unanswered. 

I can feel Judes eyes on me, watching my every move. It makes something like a shiver run down my back and a feeling to gather in my stomach, making it feel full and empty all at once. Not that I’d ever show it. Or let another soul hear of it. 

I mentally gather my bearings and continue on, only stopping when a boy with long copper hair and a pair of small moth wings isn’t bowing. I give him a look, one filled with ire and revulsion. He doesn’t seem to take the hint and laughs in my face. Laughs. As though this was all just some amusing joke to him. Well I shall show him all that is humorous.

I lunge, and between one eyeblink and the next I’ve punched him, my knuckles aching as he lands sprawled across the floor. The revelry and merriment has taken a pause, everyone stanching their breath as they watch. For before the boy had even reached the ground I had grabbed ahold of his wing, the delicate thing tearing like paper. His scream is thin and reedy, his features contorting into a mix of agony, terror, and complete loathing. I do not believe wings like his grow back. I sincerely hope they do.

The courtiers around us all gape and teeter, and instead of allowing myself to freeze up and wonder at what atrocity I had just committed, I am forced to keep up my act. Their surprise only lasts a moment, and as I throw the wing back onto the boy they return to their dancing and their songs.

The four of us walk away, circling the hall as we return to our post where I’d left my goblet. I shouldn’t have done what I did. I regret it deeply. I don’t even know how I acted on it. How it even occurred. I’ve never truly thought myself so brutal as to rip another’s wing. I couldn’t imagine how I’d feel if someone tore off my tail. Not that they could. I’m not even sure many people know of its existence in the first place. 

Which, of course, is when my thoughts begin to roam back to the mortal girl we’d left behind against my volition. I’d gone swimming with her half sister Vivienne quite recently. Of course, her sister is half fey, which is why I tolerated her presence. Perhaps she’d told her and the whimpering one about it. I don’t know how that makes me feel. The prospect of her knowing gives me a rush, but it also makes me uncomfortable. Perhaps she’d rid me of it someday to take some sort of silly revenge against me. Not that I care much for it but the idea of the pain she could cause me is frightening. But she is human. Mortal. Easily charmed and glamoured. Why do I hold her in such high regard? She is nothing. She is mortal. Born to die. I am immortal. I am a Prince.

“Cardan,” Nicasia snaps me out of my thoughts. 

“Hmm?” I raise my brow.

“Where has your mind gone?” she questioned, sitting on the table in their alcove, feet dangling. She was exquisite. If I had drunk my wishful share of wine I’d have lost my head over it. Alas, she was no longer mine to fawn and dote over. That ship had sailed a while ago.

“Into the clouds, dearest Nicasia,” I respond nonchalantly.

“I doubt it. You’re not drunk enough yet,” Valerian blurts, handing me a Goblet newly filled to the brim with wine. I snatch it carefully and take it down in three gulps. The rush of it hits me immediately, addling my mind in the way I so dearly cherish.

“As I was saying while you weren’t listening,” Nicasia carried on, “I should like to dance, and neither of these two dimwits are very good on the floor.” I glance over at Locke and Valerian and see they both share the same expression of offence. They truly shouldn’t be. They aren’t exactly equipped with the abilities to do so in the manner Nicasia intends them to.

“As long as I get in one last drink. We are at a revelry. I would like to at least have a semblance of fun.”

She grins wickedly, jumping off of the table and stalking towards me in a most elegant manner. Snatching my arm in hers, we walk to the moving courtiers, ready to truly begin our night of fun.

I awaken to a pounding in my head that feels as though a bludgeon was taken to it, the bright sky of the mid afternoon, and some strange girl lying next to me, her amethyst hair ruffled and knotted excessively. I do not remember anything of the night before beyond dancing with Nicasia which means I’d have intoxicated myself entirely too much. Not that I complain.

Both mine and the girl’s clothes trickle the floor leading up to my bed and the blanket atop us is half falling off. I wonder what happened for a minute and not a second longer, dragging myself out and shutting the curtains instantaneously. It is too bright for my head and I will not have it.

I wrap myself up in a robe and call out to one of the mortal servants to draw a bath as another brings me a tonic to cure me of this ache. In that time the girl picks herself up and leaves without speaking a word as I roam my collection of books. I would like to have something prepared to read tonight. There is only one thing better than languishing in all of the pleasures revelries satiate and that is to get lost into a fictional tale. I am told that my bath is drawn but it isn’t until I pick out a book to read.

After cleaning off and dressing myself I find that a breakfast tray has been left for me on my now made bed, the sheets and quilts having been changed and aired. Today I am dressed in a high coloured tunic embroidered with thorns, my fingers ladened with rings. I’ve kept my golden earrings on from last night, too tired to change them out. Besides, they go perfectly with the golden buckles on my boots.

As I’ve taken a bite out of my eggs I notice a note tucked under the plate, just barely poking out and I take it.

Turning it over in my hands I notice it’s my eldest brother, Balekin’s, script and resign myself to bothering to read his message.

I swear to you, brother, if I do

 not hear better things concerning

you I shall have your heart.

I roll my eyes. Of course he’d send me some vague warning about something I do not remember nor care to. I know for a fact that this isn’t about the wing incident from last night. No, he’d have clapped my back and congratulated me for actually being a monster. What this is about is entirely unknown to me.

I take my time finishing my breakfast and wash it down with a cup of wine, not caring that it is too early to be doing so. I then make my way reluctantly to my lesson in the woods. It is in the middle of a clearing where I see my friends, sprawled in the grass with a few others of the Gentry. Locke is smirking in that way that makes me want to rip him to shreds, Nicasia and Valerian are laughing with others. I approach, making it to the ground in an annoyed manner. I’d prefer the tower over this. No matter. I shall force myself to have a merry time. Not a moment later does Poesy come around, her deer horns shimmering in the remaining sunlight of the late afternoon, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

“Your Highness.” She bobs her head as she sits at my side, too close for comfort. I nod in her direction, acknowledging that I’ve seen and heard her so she may not have to repeat herself over and over again, which would only result in my head ache returning, tonic or no.

“It’s some splendid weather that we are experiencing, do you not agree?” she tried to engage me in light conversation, to which I barely responded. So needy that one was. 

“Now, now,” Locke said assuredly. “It won’t be a mistake. Especially after I’ve ensured she could be one of us.”

“Who could be one of us?” I ask, my interest piqued.

“One of the mortals,” Nicasia scowled in disgust. I cringed.

“Why bother with one of them?” Valerian inquired. “They’re practically dead as it is. And they’re not even all that appealing.”

“Because, I enjoy watching the drama unfold.” He explained his plan and we all sent uneasy stares to him and laughter flitted through the air.

“Looks like you were wrong, Valerian. He isn't just going to take one of the filth. He’s going to do them both,” I smirked. It was unfathomable. Toying with the circle of worms in such a way? It would be hilarious to see their reactions, especially Jude’s. But for Locke to actually sleep with them and kiss them and whisper sweet nothings? The idea of it was sickening. And for the whispers of sweet nothings…We Faeries cannot lie.

“What’s wrong, Cardan?” Locke smiled as he asked his question.

“You actually like them!” I laughed out, baffled. “You actually find them attractive. The thought of that–” 

Poesy was the only one laughing along. Of course I didn’t care. What I cared about was the mortal’s in question appearing, taking in the clearing. Jude’s eyes snaked to mine immediately and her features shifted into an expression of clear aversion and barely composed hostility. Taryn tugged at her arm as she continued to a spot she found the most likeable and set up. I tracked them. Tracked her. She wears grey leather boots and a tunic with Madocs crest–a dagger, a crescent moon turned on its side so it rests like a cup, and a single drop of blood falling from one corner embroidered in silk thread. Half of her hair is up in her signature horn style, the other trickling down her shoulders and back just as last night. It’s mostly straight but there are some waves in it, as though she’d slept with it in braids, the willow colour mixing in with the forest background.

Her twin wore her hair similarly, only instead of horns half of it was tied back into a braid which ended in a blue ribbon.

Personally I wouldn’t opt to marry Taryn. She’s too boring in comparison to Jude, who is arguably the more attractive twin–Wait what?

The lecture begins as a series of argumentative thoughts enter my head, all in one voice. Mine. What is going on in there?

The lecture involves the history of the delicately negotiated peace between Orlagh, Queen of the Undersea, and the various Faerie kings and queens of the land. Nicasia is Orlagh’s daughter, sent to be fostered in the High King’s Court. Many odes have been composed to Queen Orlagh’s beauty, but having met her and compared her daughter side by side with her, I’d have to say that the princess is much more resplendent. Ten times more bewitching. 

Nicasia gloats rightfully throughout the lesson, proud of her heritage, and it plucks a thread within me, soothing me from my agitated state. Once the instructor moves on to whoever else the lesson covers I tone him out. Instead I unconsciously begin staring, and not at Nicasia. 

Her eyes are the colour of the most perfect walnuts, and they’ve taken on a content gleam. Her hand is moving, her pen with it as she swishes it and slashes with it as though it were a sword. It’s barely noticeable from where we are, but of course I’d notice as I notice everything about her. Her tongue is wedged between her lips, just barely, but enough to part them as she fantasises, and it’s the cutest thing I’d ever seen. Her head tilts to the side slightly, her gaze shifting towards the trees at her right as she continues. 

I am taken aback. The lesson has ended. Was I truly so enamoured with her that my attention wandered for so long? 

I feel disgust rise within me and I think of something to do to her for making me this way. She and Taryn take out their meals from their baskets as the sun dips below the sky. I act then.

She’s buttering a piece of toast when I do it. Passing them, I kick dirt onto her food right before she puts it in her mouth. The others laugh.

She looks up to see me watching with cruel delight, like a cat toying with its meal. This is so much better. I feel so much better. 

No longer do I think of how much she enamores me, but of how much I can make her suffer. I despise her. She is much like the dirt I’d just kicked on her food. Afterall, she comes from it, does she not?

My smirk fades into a sneer and she grits her teeth, probably thinking that if she weathers this out that I might leave. But I won’t. I don’t intend on letting her torment ever end without making her feel as horrible as I do.

“Something the matter?” Nikasia chirps, wandering up and draping her arm over my shoulder, the contact sending sparks of electricity through me. “Dirt. It’s what you came from, mortal. It’s where you’ll return soon enough. Take a big bite.”

“Make me,” she challenges, instant regret blooming on her face. Taryn looks nothing short of startled.

“I could , you know,” I say, grinning because nothing could please me more content. I could ensorcell her so that she would think the dirt was some kind of delicacy. Of course, knowing Madoc, both she and Taryn were probably wearing a string of rowan berries. But were they not, only their father’s position would give me reason to not so much as dare. Dealing with the wrath of the general is not something I would consider enjoyable.

Jude glances in the direction of the day’s lecturer, but the elderly phooka has his nose buried in a book.

“You don’t want that, do you?” Valerian asks with mock sympathy as he kicks more dirt onto their lunch. I hadn’t even noticed him come over. No matter. “What if we promise to be nice to you for the whole afternoon if you eat everything in your baskets?” His smile is wide and false. “Don’t you want us for friends?”

She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t look down like her sister does. Instead she meets my gaze, the strong jut of her chin showing that she feels confident in protecting herself, foolish as that may be. There is nothing she could truly say to stop us and it’s clear that she knows it. Obviously she can’t choke down her anger like usual. Intriguing.

Nicasia pulls a pin from Jude’s hair, causing one of her horned braids to fall into the rest of her hair. She swats at the princess but it’s too late.

“What’s this?” I admire the golden pin with its tiny cluster of filigree hawthorn berries at the top. “Did you steal it? Did you think it would make you beautiful? Did you think it would make you as we are?”

I bite the inside of my cheek, not wanting to hear this. I wanted to cause them misery, not make myself miserable. I disagree with Nicasia. Jude was beautiful. Unnaturally beautiful, especially for a mortal with such a soft face. Oh how I resent her more than anything. I hate her. I hate her so much that sometimes when I look at her, I can hardly breathe.

“You’ll never be our equal,” Nicasia continues.

Of course she wouldn’t. She was beneath them entirely.

“Oh, come on,” Locke says with a careless laugh, his hand going around Nicasia’s waist. If looks could kill he’d have been six feet under when I first heard his play for a mortal rather than a future queen. Breaking her heart like that–

Perhaps I’d break my oath to never take a soul just this once.

“Jude’s sorry,” Taryn says quickly. “We’re both really sorry.”

“She can show us how sorry she is,” I drawl. “Tell her she doesn’t belong in the Summer Tournament.”

“Afraid I’ll win?” she asks, which isn’t smart. 

No. I’m afraid you’ll hurt–Don’t even finish that thought.

“It’s not for mortals,” I inform her, my voice chilly, even in my own ears. “Withdraw, or wish that you had.”

She opens her mouth, but Taryn cuts in in her stead. “I’ll talk to her about it. It’s nothing, just a game.”

Nicasia smiles dangerously and Valerian leers at her curves. “It’s all just a game.” 

I stare directly in Judes eyes, not shying away. I want to see her plan. How things will turn out.

During the mock war that afternoon Valerian trips her and I whisper foul things in her ear, the prospect of even doing something as simple as whispering to her sets something flying in my stomach, making me feel queasy. By the time I return to Hollow Hall I still feel uneasy and empty.

“Crawl to me, you dirty mortal liar,” I order, staring her down. She does as I say, her loathing clear on display and visceral. 

“Yes, my prince,” she spits, making her way to me on all fours, slowly, seductively, past my shelves full of books and tomes of different sizes and colours. Right to my bed. She stands so she may get on it. I give her a look and she smirks, hatred still shining in her eyes. She places her hands on the edge of the mattress, leaning her weight on them as she swings one leg over me and within a heartbeat she’s straddling my lap. Only then do I notice we are both bare of our clothes.

She sits there, waiting. I reach up, one hand wrapping around the back of her neck, the other wrapped around her waist as I pull her down, slamming her lips to my own. She lets out a moan of surprise and something deep in my throat sounds in approval. 

I release her and she sits back up, her eyes dilated, her face revealing how much she wants.

“Beg. Grovel. Make it pretty,” I say in response to her features. She opens her mouth–

A nightmare. It was just a nightmare. I inhale deeply, running a hand down my sweaty face and exhale.

A nightmare. That was all that was.

It’s a good thing I can still lie to myself in my head.