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“You want to know what I did to make him raise me up?' I ask, leaning toward her, close enough that she can feel the warmth of my breath. 'I kissed him on the mouth, and then I threatened to kiss him some more if he didn't do exactly what I wanted.' 'Liar,' she hisses. 'If you're such good friends,' I say, repeating her own words back to her with malicious satisfaction, 'why don't you ask him?”

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Book:The Wicked King
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“Whatever you do to me,' I say, too angry to stay quiet, 'I can do worse to you.' 'Oh,' he says, fingers tight on mine. 'Do not think I forget that for a moment.' 'Then why?' I demand. 'You believe I planned your humiliation?' He laughs. 'Me? That sounds like work.' 'I don't care if you did or not,' I tell him, too angry to make sense of my feelings. 'I just care that you enjoyed it.' 'And why shouldn't I delight to see you squirm? You tricked me,,' Cardan says. 'You played me for a fool, and now I am the King of Fools.' 'The High King of Fools,' I say, a sneer in my voice. Our gazes meet, and there's a shock of mutual understanding that our bodies are pressed too closely. I am conscious of my skin, of the sweat beading on my lip, of the slide of my thighs against each other. I am aware of the warmth of his neck beneath my twined fingers, of the prickly brush of his hair and how I want to sink my hands in to it. I inhale the scent of him- moss and oakwood and leather. I stare at his treacherous mouth and imagine it on me. Everything about this is wrong.”

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Book:The Wicked King
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“I have difficulty imagining what trouble the High King got into in his own rooms, but it doesn't take me long to discover. When we arrive, I spot Cardan resting among the wreckage of his furniture. Curtains ripped from their rods, the frames of paintings cracked, their canvases kicked through, furniture broken. A small fire smoulders in a corner, and everything stinks of smoke and spilled wine. Nor is he alone. On a nearby couch are Locke and two beautiful faeries- a boy and a girl- one with ram's horns, the other with long ears that come to tufted points, like those of an owl. All of them are in an advanced state of undress and inebriation. They watch the room burn with a kind of grim fascination. ... 'Carda-' I remember myself and sink in to a bow. 'Your Infernal Majesty.' He turns and, for a moment, seems to look through me, as though he has no idea who I am. His mouth is painted gold, and his pupils are large with intoxication. Then his lip lifts in a familiar sneer. 'You.' 'Yes,' I say. 'Me.”

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Book:The Wicked King
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“Taryn seemed well enough tonight,' he says. 'Roses in her cheeks and merriment on her lips.' 'Let's be sure she stays that way,' I say. His brows rise. 'Would you like me to seduce her away from Locke? I could certainly try. I promise nothing in the way of results, but you might find amusement in the attempt.' 'No, no absolutely not, do not do that,' I say, and do not examine the hot spike of panic his words induce. 'I just mean try to keep Locke from being his worst self when she's around, that's all.' He narrows his eyes. 'Shouldn't you encourage just the opposite?' Perhaps it would be better for Taryn to discover unhappiness with Locke as soon as possible. But she's my sister, and I never want to be the cause of her pain. I shake my head. He makes a vague gesture in the air. 'As you wish. Your sister will be wrapped in satin and sackcloth, as protected from herself as I can make her.' I stand. 'The council wants Locke to arrange some amusement to please Grimsen. If it's nice, perhaps the smith will make you a cup that never runs out of wine.' Cardan gives me a look up through his lashes that I find hard to interpret and then rises, too. He takes my hand. 'Nothing is sweeter,' he says, kissing the back of it, 'but that which is scarce.' My skin flushes, hot and uncomfortable.”

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Book:The Wicked King
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“Cardan steps close to me, his gaze devouring. I am not sure I can bear his cutting me down again. Luckily, he seems at a loss for words. 'I hate you,' I whisper before he can speak. He tilts my face to him. 'Say it again,' he says as the imps comb my hair and place the ugly stinking crown on my head. HIs voice is low. The words are for me alone. I pull out of his grip, but not before I see his expression. He looks as he did when he was forced to answer my questions, when he admitted his desire for me. He looks as though he's confessing.”

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Book:The Wicked King
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“Cardan was left to be suckled by a little black cat whose kittens came stillborn.' 'He survived on cat milk?' I exclaim. ... I think again of the globe I held in Eldred's study, of Cardan dressed in rags, looking to the woman in my chamber for approval, which came only when he was awful. An abandoned prince, weaned on cat milk and cruelty, left to roam the palace like a little ghost.”

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Book:The Wicked King
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“Sometimes I think about Cardan when I am lying there. I think about what it must have been like to grow up as an honoured member of the royal family, powerful and unloved. Fed on cat milk and neglect, To be arbitrarily beaten by the brother you most resembled and who most seemed to care for you. Imagine all those courtiers bowing to you, allowing you to hiss and slap at them. But no matter how many of them you humiliated or hurt, you would always know someone had found them worthy of love, when no one had ever found you worthy. ... I would be stupid to think I knew Cardan's heart from his story. But I wonder at it. I wonder what would have happened if I'd admitted he wasn't out of my system.”

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Book:The Wicked King
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“I slip in to Cardan's room. Though it is not yet dawn, I am lucky. The room is empty of revelry. No courtiers doze on the cushions or in his bed. I walk to where he sleeps and press my hand over his mouth. He wakes, fighting against my grip. I press down hard enough that I can feel his teeth against my skin. He grabs for my throat, and for a moment, I am scared that I'm not strong enough, that my training isn't good enough. Then his body relaxes utterly, as though realizing who I am. He shouldn't relax like that. 'He sent me to kill you,' I whisper against his ear. A shiver goes through his body, and his hand goes to my waist, but instead of pushing me away, he pulls me in to the bed with him, rolling my body across him on to the heavily embroidered coverlets. My hand slips from his mouth, and I am unnerved to find myself here, in the new High King's new bed- one I am still too human to lie in, beside someone who terrifies me the more I feel for him. 'Balekin and Orlagh are planning your murder,' I say, flustered. 'Yes,' He says lazily. 'So why did I wake up at all?' I am awkwardly conscious of his physicality, of the moment when he was half awake and pulled me against him. 'Because I am difficult to charm,' I say. That makes him give a soft laugh. He reaches out and touches my hair, traces the hollow of my cheekbone. 'I could have told my brother that,' he says, with a softness in his voice I am utterly unprepared for.”

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Book:The Wicked King
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“I have thought and thought since you were gone, and there is something I wish to say.' Cardan's face is serious, almost grave, in a way that he seldom allows himself to be. 'When my father sent me away, at first I tried to prove that I was nothing like he thought me. But when that didn't work, I tried to be exactly what he believed I was instead. If he thought I was bad, I would be worse. If he thought I was cruel, I would be horrifying. I would live down to his every expectation. If I couldn't have his favour, then I would have his wrath. 'Balekin did not know what to do with me. He made me attend his debauches, made me serve wine and food to show off his tame little prince. When I grew older and more ill-tempered, he grew to like having someone to discipline. His disappointments were my lashing, his insecurities my flaws. And yet, he was the first person who saw something in me he liked- himself. He encouraged all my cruelty, inflamed all my rage. And I got worse. 'I wasn't kind, Jude. Not to many people. Not to you. I wasn't sure if I wanted you or if I wanted you gone from my sight so that I would stop feeling as I did, which made me even more unkind. But when you were gone- truly gone beneath the waves- I hated myself as I never have before.' I am so surprised by his words that I keep trying to find the tick in them. He can't truly mean what he's saying. 'Perhaps I am foolish, but I am not a fool. You like something about me,' he says, mischief lighting his face, making its planes more familiar. 'The challenge? My pretty eyes? No matter, because there is more you do not like and I know it. I can't trust you. Still, when you were gone I had to make a great many decisions, and so much of what I did right was imagining you beside me, Jude, giving me a bunch of ridiculous orders I nonetheless obeyed.' I am robbed of speech. He laughs, his warm hand going to my shoulder. 'Either I've surprised you or you are as ill as Madoc claimed.”

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Book:The Wicked King
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“I have thought and thought since you were gone, and there is something I wish to say.' Cardan's face is serious, almost grave, in a way that he seldom allows himself to be. 'When my father sent me away, at first I tried to prove that I was nothing like he thought me. But when that didn't work, I tried to be exactly what he believed I was instead. If he thought I was bad, I would be worse. If he thought I was cruel, I would be horrifying. I would live down to his every expectation. If I couldn't have his favour, then I would have his wrath. 'Balekin did not know what to do with me. He made me attend his debauches, made me serve wine and food to show off his tame little prince. When I grew older and more ill-tempered, he grew to like having someone to discipline. His disappointments were my lashing, his insecurities my flaws. And yet, he was the first person who saw something in me he liked- himself. He encouraged all my cruelty, inflamed all my rage. And I got worse. 'I wasn't kind, Jude. Not to many people. Not to you. I wasn't sure if I wanted you or if I wanted you gone from my sight so that I would stop feeling as I did, which made me even more unkind. But when you were gone- truly gone beneath the waves- I hated myself as I never have before.' I am so surprised by his words that I keep trying to find the trick in them. He can't truly mean what he's saying. 'Perhaps I am foolish, but I am not a fool. You like something about me,' he says, mischief lighting his face, making its planes more familiar. 'The challenge? My pretty eyes? No matter, because there is more you do not like and I know it. I can't trust you. Still, when you were gone I had to make a great many decisions, and so much of what I did right was imagining you beside me, Jude, giving me a bunch of ridiculous orders I nonetheless obeyed.' I am robbed of speech. He laughs, his warm hand going to my shoulder. 'Either I've surprised you or you are as ill as Madoc claimed.”

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Book:The Wicked King
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“The Roach clasps his hand on the back of my neck with a laugh. 'You did good, kid, you know that? You came out of the sea even tougher than you went in.' I have to look down because I am surprised by how much I wanted to hear someone say that. When I glance back up, Cardan is watching me carefully. He looks stricken. I shake my head, to keep him from saying whatever he's thinking.”

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Book:The Wicked King
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“His raven's-wing hair falls over one eye. 'So, are we at war?' For a moment, I think he is talking about us. 'No,' I say. 'At least not until the next full moon.' 'You can't fight the sea,' Locke says philosophically. Cardan gives a little laugh. 'You can fight anything. Winning, though, that's something else again.”

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Book:The Wicked King
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“I follow him behind the throne and off the dais, where a small door is set against the stone wall, half hidden by ivy. I've never been here before. Cardan sweeps aside the ivy, and we go in. It is a small room, clearly intended for intimate meetings and assignations. Its walls are covered in moss, with small glowing mushrooms climbing them, casting a pale white light on us. There's a low couch upon which people could sit or recline, as the situation called for. We are alone in a way we have not been alone for a long time, and when he takes a step toward me, my heart skips a beat.”

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“You shouldn't be alone,' I say, because if the Undersea is going to strike, then we must not give it any easy targets. 'Not tonight.' Cardan grins. 'I hadn't planned on it.' The offhand implication that he's not alone most nights bothers me, and I hate that it does. 'Good,' I say, swallowing that feeling, though it feels like swallowing bile. 'But if you're planning on taking someone to bed- or better yet, several someones- choose guards. And then have yourselves guarded by more guards.' 'A veritable orgy.' He seems delighted by the idea.”

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Book:The Wicked King
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“You could still be lying,' says the Roach. He turns to Cardan. 'Try her.' 'Your pardon?' Cardan says, drawing himself up, and the Roach seems to suddenly remember whom he's speaking in such an off-handed way. 'Don't be such a prickly rose, Your Majesty,' the Roach says with a shrug and a grin. 'I'm not giving you an order. I'm suggesting that if you tried to glamour Jude, we could find out the truth.' Cardan sighs and walks toward me. I know this is necessary. I know that he doesn't intend to hurt me. I know he can't glamour me. And yet I draw back automatically. 'Jude?' he asks. 'Go ahead,' I say. I hear the glamour enter his voice, heady and seductive and more powerful than I expected. 'Crawl to me,' he says with a grin. Embarrassment pinks my cheeks. I stay where I am, looking at all their faces. 'Satisfied?' The Bomb nods. 'You're not charmed.”

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Book:The Wicked King
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“After our kiss, I am such a fool over you that I can hardly contain myself,' I tell him with as much sarcasm as I can muster. 'All I want to do is nice things that make you happy. Sure, I'll make whatever bargain you want, so long as you kiss me again. Go ahead and run. I definitely won't shoot you in the back.' He blinks a few times. 'Hearing you lie outright is a bit disconcerting.' 'Then let me tell you the truth. You're not going to run because you've got nowhere to go.”

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Book:The Cruel Prince
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“I stand in front of the polished wood door, lit by two lamps of trapped sprites who fly in desperate circles. They illuminate a carving of an enormous and sinister face. The knocker, a circle piercing its nose. Cardan reaches for it, and because I have grown up in Faerie, I am not entirely surprised in to a scream when the door's eyes open. 'My prince,' it says. 'My door,' he says in return, with a smile that conveys both affection and familiarity. It's bizarre to see his obnoxious charm used for something other than evil.”

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Book:The Cruel Prince
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“Cardan looks at me with helpless rage... The fury in his eyes is familiar, the glitter of them like banked fire, like coals burning hotter than flames ever could. This time I deserve it. I promised he was going to be able to walk away from the Court and all its manipulations. I promised he would be free from all this. I lied.”

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Book:The Cruel Prince
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“His grin widens, shows teeth. 'I don't think I will be a good king. I never wanted to be one, certainly not a good one. You made me your puppet. Very well, Jude, daughter of Madoc, I will be your puppet. You rule. You contend with Balekin, with Roiben, with Orlagh of the Undersea. You be my seneschal, do the work, and I will drink wine and make my subjects laugh. I may be the useless shield you put in front of your brother, but don't expect me to start being useful.' I expected something else, a direct threat, perhaps. Somehow, this is worse. He rises from the throne. 'Come, have a seat.' His voice is replete with danger, lush with menace. The flowering branches have sprouted thorns so thickly that petals are barely visible. 'This is what you wanted, isn't it?' he asks. 'What you sacrificed everything for. Go on. It's all yours.”

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Book:The Cruel Prince
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“What did he offer you?' I ask, like we're all in on the same joke. Yes, it's a gamble. Maybe Cardan didn't offer them anything at all. I try not to seem like I'm holding my breathe. I try not to show how small Cardan makes me feel. The Ghost gives me one of his rare smiles. 'Mostly gold, but also power. Position.' 'A lot of things he hasn't got,' said the Bomb. 'I thought we were friends,' Cardan says halfheartedly.”

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Book:The Cruel Prince
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“What do you want to know?' 'I found a piece of paper with my name on it,' I say. 'Over and over, just my name.' He flinches a little but doesn't say anything. 'Well?' I prompt. 'That's not a question,' he groans, as though exasperated. 'Ask me a proper question, and I'll give you an answer.' 'You're terrible at this whole "telling me whatever I want to know" thing.' My hand goes to the crossbow, but I don't pick it up. He sighs. 'Just ask me something. Ask about my tail. Don't you want to see it?' He raises his brows. I have seen his tail, but I am not going to give him the satisfaction of telling him that. 'You want me to ask you something? Fine. When did Taryn start whatever it is she has with Locke?' He laughs with delight. This appears to be a discussion he isn't interested in avoiding. Typical. 'Oh, I wondered when you would ask about that. It was some months ago. He told us all about it- throwing stones at her window, leaving her notes to meet him in the woods, wooing her by moonlight. He swore us to silence, made it all seem like a lark. I think, in the beginning, he did it to make Nicasia jealous. But later...' 'How did he know it was her room?' I ask, frowning. That makes his smile grow. 'Maybe he didn't. Maybe either of you would have done as his first mortal conquest. I believe his goal is to have both of you in the end.' I don't like this. 'What about you?' He gives me a quick, odd look. 'Locke hasn't gotten around to seducing me yet, if that's what you're asking. I suppose I should be insulted.”

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Book:The Cruel Prince
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“He made me a story, and now I am going to make a story out of someone else. 'So I am to sit here and feed you information,' Cardan says, leaning against a hickory tree. 'And you're to go charm royalty? That seems entirely backward.' I fix him a look. 'I can be charming. I charmed you, didn't I?' He rolls his eyes. 'Do not expect others to share my depraved tastes.”

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Book:The Cruel Prince
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“The crossbow is where I left it, in the drawer of Dain's desk. I draw it out, cock it back, and point it at Cardan. He draws a ragged breath. 'You're going to shoot me?' He blinks. 'Right now?' My finger caresses the trigger. I feel calm, gloriously calm. This is weakness, to put fear above ambition, above family, above love, but it feels good. It feels like being powerful. 'I can see why you'd want to,' he says, as though reading my face, and coming to some decision. 'But I'd really prefer if you didn't.' 'Then you shouldn't have smirked at me constantly- you think I am going to stand being mocked, here, now? You still so sure you're better than me?' My voice shakes a little, and I hate him even more for it. I have trained every day to be dangerous, and he is entirely in my power, yet I'm the one who is afraid. Fearing him is a habit, a habit I could break with a bolt to his heart. He holds up his hands in protest, long bare fingers splayed. I am the one with the royal ring. 'I'm nervous,' he says. 'I smile a lot when I'm nervous. I can't help it.' That is not at all what I expected him to say. I lower the crossbow momentarily. He keeps talking, as though he doesn't want to leave me too much time to think. 'You are terrifying. Nearly my whole family is dead, and while they never had much love for me, I don't want to join them. I've spent all night worrying what you're going to do, and I know exactly what I deserve. I have a reason to be nervous.' He's talking to me as though we're friends instead of enemies. It works, too; I relax a little. When I realise that, I am nearly freaked out enough to shoot him outright.”

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Book:The Cruel Prince
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“Tell me, could you love me?' he asks, seemingly out of nowhere. 'Of course.' I laugh, not sure of the answer I am supposed to give. But the question is so oddly phrased that I can hardly deny him. I love my parents' murderer; I suppose I could love anyone. I'd like to love him. 'I wonder,' he says. 'What would you do for me?' 'I don't know what you mean.' This riddling figure with flinty eyes isn't the Locke who stood on the rooftop of his estate and spoke so gently to me or who chased me, laughing, through its halls. I am not quite sure who this Locke is, but he has put me entirely off balance. 'Would you forswear a promise for me?' He is smiling at me as though he's teasing. 'What promise?' He sweeps me around him, my leather slippers pirouetting over the packed earth. In the distance, a piper begins to play. 'Any promise,' he says lightly, although it is no light thing he is asking. 'I guess it depends,' I say, because the real answer, a flat no, isn't what anyone wants to hear. 'Do you love me enough to give me up?' I am sure my expression is stricken. He leans closer. 'Isn't that a test of love?' 'I- I don't know,' I say. All this must be leading up to some declaration on his part, either of affection or of a lack of it. 'Do you love me enough to weep over me?' The words are spoken against my neck. I can feel his breath, making the tiny hairs stand up, making me shudder with an odd combination of desire and discomfort. 'You mean if you were hurt?' 'I mean if I hurt you.' My skin prickles. I don't like this. But at least I know what to say. 'If you hurt me, I wouldn't cry. I would hurt you back.' His step falters as we sweep over the floor. 'I'm sure you'd-' And then he breaks off speaking, looking behind him. I can barely think. My face is hot. I dread what he will say next. 'Time to change partners,' a voice says, and I look to see that it's the worst possible person: Cardan. 'Oh,' he says to Locke. 'Did I steal your line?”

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Book:The Cruel Prince
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“Looking up at Cardan, though, something strikes me wrong. His eyes are glittering with fury and desire and maybe even shame. A moment later, he blinks, and it's just his usual chilly arrogance. 'Well? Be quick about it,' he says impatiently. 'Kiss my foot and tell me how great I am. Tell me how much you admire me.' 'Enough,' Locke says sharply to Cardan. He's got his hands on my shoulders and is pulling me roughly to my feet. 'I'm taking her home.' 'Are you now?' Cardan asks him, eyebrows raised. 'Interesting timing. You like the savour of a little humiliation, just not too much?' 'I hate it when you get like this,' Locke says under his breath.”

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Book:The Cruel Prince
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“I wonder what would happen if I said the words: Nicasia humiliated me. Valerian tried to murder me. They did it to impress Prince Cardan, who hates me. I am scared of them. I am more scared of them than I am of you, and you terrify me. Make them stop. Make them leave me alone. But I won't. Madoc's anger is fathomless. I have seen it in my mother's blood on the kitchen floor. Once summoned, it cannot be called back.”

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Book:The Cruel Prince
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