Wanna Be Yours

chapter five: cardan

August 12th

The taste of Jude's cigarette lingered on Cardan's tongue as he sat at the table next to his nephew. Cardan ignored the dizziness within him, the sickening sensation that he had been at the mercy of Jude Duarte. He tried to process the scene, he felt like he could vomit. There were too many mixed emotions, his mind was dazed in the memory of it. Jude's hands on his face, her lips so close to his own, her dares, her comments.

Her comments.

Annoyance grew heavy over his head. What was it she had said? That just because he was rich, he could get his parents to buy his way to the top? Who did she think she was to comment on such a thing? She had no clue. He had no money, actually! His family hated him! Of course, it was easy to talk when your father was an ex-musician and was probably very supportive of you.

Cardan sighed; his turbulent emotions utterly confused. Though more than anything, he felt riled up and extremely vengeful. He had proposed a game and Jude had accepted it. She had made her move, and now it was his turn. And when it came to performances, to challenges, and to being better than somebody else, Cardan knew his ways of playing dirty.

Was it unkind? Perhaps, but The King was not one to play nice. He had never been.

He wasn't a fool to believe Jude wasn't either.

His memories reeled to her hands on him, her cigarette smoke entering his lips, her eyes deeply focused on his. Though he'd never admit it, in that moment she could have asked anything, and he'd done it. It was Jude's charm and Cardan's weakness. And he hated it. There was nothing he hated more than being controlled, and Jude had such a swift way to go about it. He'd show her. He wasn't her puppet. He never would be. She wanted a game, a competition, and she'd get it. He wasn't leaving until he got his last words.

Without making any more efforts to sort his very intense emotions, Cardan served himself a glass of wine and downed it in three chugs. Yes, this was much better than thinking. He was pouring himself another glass when Oak leaned and spoke to him.

"Did your smoking trip go wrong?" There was a wicked grin on his stupid little face.

"Yup," Was all Cardan managed, sipping on his wine.

"What happened?" Ghost asked to the other side of Oak.

Cardan, as usual, made a show of everything. He sighed dramatically, ran his fingers through his hair, sipped his wine, and then spoke, "Jude Duarte." It was all he said, letting the tension reach his band's bones. Of course, he wasn't going to put anything other than a smug look on his face. Any other worries, any other emotions that didn't show how cool, calm, and nonchalant he was about this situation weren't allowed.

He was The King. He had an image to uphold!
"Damn," Roach said, sipping on whatever he was drinking.

"Jude?" Oak laughed, "Dude, there is no way you're so chill about this."

Putting his best act, Cardan shrugged, winking at his nephew, "It wasn't much."

"Jude wasn't much?" Ghost furrowed his brows, "I bet she was livid!"
"Not really, we spoke, war was declared, nothing new." Cardan sipped on his wine, hoping it would help the dryness in his throat. Hoping it would calm his exploding chest.

"Declared war?" Oak gawked, "I knew it. She's definitely out for us now."

"Do not fret!" Cardan said as he played with his hair, "Sure she's a big competition, but we're Court of Shadows."