A Night with the High King

You made me the High King, Jude. Let me be the High King. I lie awake unaccustomed to sleeping during the dark hours as they do here in the mortal world. I'm tormented by my foolishness. Cardan's words echo through my head. They play in a loop that seems to repeat with each ache of my heart. Each thrum of anger that pulses through my entire body.

When I shut my eyes I hear him. Marry me. Become the Queen of Elfhame. My idiocies sicken me. I should have known. I should have known Cardan plays dirty; laying low, acting as the drunken fool. A boy, made King. When all along he schemed just as much as was in my own nature. Striking when I was down.

I roll to my back with a sigh and stare up at the ceiling of Oak's room--Oak sprawled out beside me on the double bed, clutching some kind of action figure toy. He stirs at my movement. I don't want to wake him so I force myself to close my eyes and will sleep to come.

But the memories play out like vivid dreams....

"It's simple," He says, moving to the edge of the chair. "We pledge our troth. I'll go first—unless you wish to wait. Perhaps you imagined something more romantic." He slides my ruby ring off his finger. "I, Cardan, son of Eldred, High King of Elfhame, take you, Jude Duarte, mortal ward of Madoc, to be my bride and my queen. Let us be wed until we wish for it to be otherwise and the crown has passed from our hands."

Catching my hand, he slides the ring on. The exchange of rings is not a faerie ritual, and I am surprised by it. "Your turn," he says into the silence. He gives me a grin. "I'm trusting you to keep your word and release me from my bond of obedience after this."

My hand tightens on his as I speak, "I, Jude Duarte, take Cardan, High King of Elfhame, to be my husband. Let us be wed until we don't want to be and the crown has passed from our hands."

He kisses the scar of my palm.

I still have his brother's blood under my fingernails.

I don't have a ring for him.

Above us, the buds are blooming. The whole room smells of flowers. "Cardan, son of Eldred, High King of Elfhame, I forsake any command over you. You are free of your vow of obedience, for now and for always."

Cardan stands then. The light that emanates off the lanterns catches his eyes in a shine. I see no trickery or malice there as when I was mockingly crowned the Queen of Mirth.

I stand too, "Is that it then?" I ask feeling almost disappointed in the insignificance or simplicity of these vows. The only acknowledgment having been the few blooms that appeared in the vines over our heads as we spoke them.

He straightens out his loose, dark tunic in that arrogant way of Gentry. Tugs at an errant thread--a faerie way of lying, by deceiving in their mannerisms--feigning boredom, "Of course not." he replies nonchalantly, "The vows must be bound by consummation."

His eyes meet mine then with a mischievous gleam although his face portrays all seriousness.

I think my heart just stuttered. For a moment I thought he was surely mocking. But before I could laugh I quickly realize this was no jest at my expense. I hope that he cannot sense the fear that has spiked through me.

"Consummation?"

"Of course."

I look past Cardan's shoulder beyond the sitting room through the double doors, where the frame of his bed is just visible. I think of Taryn and Locke. Of how the guests of their wedding waited as their vows were exchanged in private. I think of Locke pressing my twin down into his bed and shudder. Then I think of Cardan and me in the room beside the throne room, how Cardan lay me back against the lounge, how I pulled him over me.