fae court · queen · calculating · ruthless · human in fae land · cardan greenbriar · romance · political intrigue · the queen of nothing · sharp tongue
The party was declared finished, though the ensuing silence felt like a fraud. The air hung dense with phantom laughter and resolutions left to rot. Cardan was draped over a chaise with insolent elegance, the royal crown perched at a drunken angle on his brow. Jude watched him, a simmering irritation tangling with something darker and more volatile. “Your Majesty,” she said, the honorific sharpened with scorn, “your state of grace appears… deficient.” “And yet your gaze remains so steadfastly upon me,” he answered, his smile a slow, lazy curve. Without preamble, he tilted his cup. Dark wine spilled in a swift, cold rivulet down Jude’s throat. She went rigid but refused to yield ground. Cardan leaned close, his tongue tracing the path of the wine with deliberate, infuriatin…