It’s hard to sit in a dignified way on a cushion, and it would require her lowering herself very far beneath me. Of course she refused my offer.
I think of Cardan and the way he wore his crown askew, the way he lounged on the throne. It gave him an air of unpredictability and reminded everyone that he was powerful enough to make the rules. I have resolved to try to emulate his example where I can, including with annoying seating.
“You are bold to come here,” I say.
“Of all people, you should appreciate a little boldness.” Madoc’s gaze goes to Vivi and Taryn and then back to me. “I mourned you. I truly believed you died.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t wet your cap in my blood,” I say. At my side, Grima Mog’s eyebrows rise.
“I cannot blame you for being angry,” he says. “But we have been angry at each other for too long, Jude. You’re not the fool I took you for, and for my part, I don’t want to hurt you. You’re the High Queen of Faerie. Whatever you did to get there, I can only applaud it.”
He might not want to hurt me, but that doesn’t mean he won’t.
“She is the queen,” Taryn says. “The only reason she didn’t die out in the snow is that the land healed her.”
A murmur moves through the Folk around us. Lady Nore looks at me with open disgust. I note that neither she nor her husband has made a proper bow, nor used my title. How it must gall her to see me on even this approximation of a throne. How she must hate the very idea that I have a claim to the real one.
“It is the nature of the child to achieve what a parent can only dream,” says Madoc. Now he looks at Oriana, eyes narrowing. “But let us remember that much of this family disagreement came from my attempt to put Oak on the throne. I have always been as happy to rule through my children as to wear the crown myself.”
Anger flares up inside me, hot and bright. “And woe to those children if they will not be ruled by you.”
He makes a gesture of dismissal. “Let us think through your next moves, High Queen Jude. You and your army, led by your formidable new general, clash with mine. There is a great battle. Perhaps you win, and I retreat to the North to make new plans. Or perhaps I am dead.
“Then what? There is still a serpent king to contend with, one whose scales are harder than the hardest armor, whose poison seeps into the land. And you are still mortal. There is no more Blood Crown to keep the Folk of Elfhame tied to your rule, and even if there were, you could not wear it. Already Lady Asha is gathering a circle of courtiers and knights around herself, all of them telling her that as Cardan’s mother, she should be regent until his return. No, you will be fending off assassins and pretenders for your entire reign.”
I glance over at the Bomb, who did not mention Lady Asha in her list of things I needed to know. The Bomb gives a slight nod of acknowledgment.
It’s a bleak picture, and no part of it is untrue.
“So maybe Jude quits,” Vivi says, sitting upright on the cushions by sheer force of will. “Abdicates. Whatever.”
“She won’t,” Madoc says. “You’ve only ever half-understood anything Jude was up to, perhaps because if you did, you couldn’t continue to act as though there are easy answers. She’s made herself a target to keep the target from being on her brother’s back.”
“Don’t lecture me,” Vivi returns. “This is all your fault. Oak’s being in danger. Cardan’s being cursed. Jude’s nearly dying.”
“I am here,” says Madoc. “To make it right.”
I study his face, recalling the way he told the person he thought was Taryn that if it pained her that she murdered her husband, then she could put the weight on him. Perhaps he sees what he’s doing now as something in the same line, but I cannot agree.
Lord Jarel takes a step forward. “That child at your feet, that’s the rightful heir of the Greenbriar line, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I say. “Oak will be High King one day.”
Thankfully, this once, my brother doesn’t contradict me.
Lady Nore nods. “You are mortal. You will not last long.”
I decide not to even argue. Here, in Faerie, mortals can remain young, but those years will come on us the moment we set foot in the human world. Even if I could avoid that fate, Madoc’s argument was persuasive. I will not have an easy time on the throne without Cardan. “That’s what mortal means,” I say with a sigh that I don’t have to fake. “We die. Think of us like shooting stars, brief but bright.”
“Poetic,” she says. “And fatalistic. Very well. You seem as though you can be reasonable. Madoc wishes us to make you an offer. We have the means to control your serpent husband.”
I feel the blood rush behind my ears. “Control him?”
“As you would any animal.” Lord Jarel gives me a smile that’s full of menace. “We have a magical bridle in our possession. Created by Grimsen himself to leash anything. In fact, it will fit itself to the creature being restrained. Now that Grimsen is no more, such an item is more valuable than ever.”
My gaze goes to Suren and her scars. Is that what she was wearing? Did they cut it off her to give to me?
Lady Nore speaks, taking up her husband’s theme. “The straps will slowly sink into his skin, and Cardan will be forever yours.”
I am not sure what she quite means by that. “Mine? He’s under a curse.”
“And unlikely to ever be otherwise, if Grimsen’s words are to be believed,” she goes on. “But were he somehow to be returned to his former state, he would still remain eternally in your power. Isn’t that delicious?”
I bite down on my tongue to avoid reacting. “That’s an extraordinary offer,” I say, turning from her to Madoc. “By which I mean it sounds like a trick.”
“Yes,” he says. “I can see that. But we will each get what we want. Jude, you will be the High Queen for as long as you like. With the serpent bound, you can rule unopposed. Taryn, you will be the sister to the queen and back in the good graces of the Court. No one can keep you from claiming Locke’s land and estates for yourself. Perhaps your sister will even throw in a title.”
“You never know,” I say, which is dangerously close to being drawn in to the picture he’s painting.
“Vivienne, you shall be able to return to the mortal world and have all the fun you can conjure, without the intrusion of family. And Oak can live with his mother again.” He looks at me with the intensity of battle in his eyes. “We will do away with the Living Council, and I will take their place. I will guide your hand, Jude.”
I look over at the Court of Teeth. “And what will they get?”
Lord Jarel smiles. “Madoc has agreed to marry your brother, Oak, to our little queen, so that when he ascends the throne, his bride will ascend with him.”
“Jude …?” Oak asks nervously. Oriana takes his hand and squeezes it tightly.
“You can’t be serious,” Vivi says. “Oak shouldn’t have anything to do with these people or their creepy daughter.”
Lord Jarel fixes her with a look of furious contempt. “You, Madoc’s only trueborn child, are the person of least consequence here. What a disappointment you must be.”
Vivi rolls her eyes.
My gaze goes to the little queen, studying her pale face and her oddly blank eyes. Although it is her fate we are discussing, she does not look very interested. Nor does she look as though she has been well treated. I can’t imagine tying her to my brother.
“Put the question of Oak’s marriage aside for a moment,” Madoc says. “Do you want the bridle, Jude?”
It is a monstrous thing, the idea of tying Cardan to me in eternal obedience. What I want is him back, him standing beside me, him laughing at all this. I would settle for even his worst self, his cruelest trickster self, if only he could be here.
I think of Cardan’s words in the brugh, before he destroyed the crown: neither loyalty nor love should be compelled.
He was right. Of course he was right. And yet, I want the bridle. I want it desperately. I can imagine myself on a rebuilt throne with the serpent torpid beside me, a symbol of my power and a reminder of my love. He would never be entirely lost to me.
It is a horrific image and just as horrifically compelling.
I would have hope, at least. And what is the alternative? Fighting a battle and sacrificing the lives of my people? Hunting down the serpent and giving up any chance of having Cardan back? For what? I am tired of fighting.
Let Madoc rule through me. Let him try, at least.
“Swear to me that the bridle does nothing else,” I say.
“Nothing,” says Lady Nore. “Only allows you to control the creature it’s used on—if you say the words of command. And once you’ve agreed to our terms, we will tell them to you.”
Lord Jarel waves forward his servant, who removes the bridle from the chest, throwing it down in a heap in front of me. It shines, golden. A bunch of straps, finely wrought, and a possible future that doesn’t involve losing what I have left.
“I wonder,” I say, considering it, “with such a powerful object in your possession, why you didn’t use it yourselves.”
He doesn’t answer for a moment that drags on just a little too long. “Ah,” I say, recalling the fresh scratches along the serpent’s scales. If I inspect that bridle, I bet there’s still drying blood on it from knights of the Court of Teeth—perhaps volunteers from Madoc’s army as well. “You couldn’t bridle him, could you? How many did you lose?”
Lord Jarel looks ill-pleased with me.