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The Wicked King

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Holly Black
Holly Black

Holly Black, born on November 10, 1971, is a renowned fantasy fiction writer from the United States. Her works are known for their unique imagination and profound emotional depth, which have won her a large fan base. more

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“I watch grass grow between Nicasia's toes and wildflowers spring up all along the gently rising hills, as I notice the trees and brambles sprout, and as the trunk of a tree begins to form around NIcasia's body. 'Cardan!' she screams as bark wraps around her, closing over her waist. 'What have you done?' Orlagh cries as the bark moves higher, as branches unfold, budding with leaves and fragrant blossoms. Petals blow out on the waves. 'Will you flood the land now? Cardan asks Orlagh with perfect calm, as though he didn't just cause a fourth island to rise from the sea. 'Send salt water to corrupt the roots of our trees and make our streams and lakes brackish? Will you drown our berries and send your merfolk to slit our throats and steal our roses? Will you do it if it means your daughter will suffer the same? Come, I dare you.”

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“I am going to give you orders.' 'Oh, indeed,' he said. On his brow, the gold crown of Elfhame caught the light of the sunset. I took a breath and began. 'You're never to deny me an audience or give an order to keep me from your side.' 'Whysoever would I want you to leave my side?' he asked, voice dry. 'And you may never order me arrested or imprisoned or killed,' I said, ignoring him. 'Not hurt. Not even detained.' 'What about asking a servant to put a very sharp pebble in your boot?' he asked, expression annoyingly serious.”

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“The High King is tied to the land and to his subjects. A king is a living symbol, a beating heart, a star upon which Elfhame's future is written.' He speaks quietly, and yet somehow his voice carries. 'Surely you have noticed that since his reign began, the isles are different. Storms come in faster. Colours are a bit more vivid, smells are sharper. 'Things have been seen in the forests,' he goes on. 'Ancient things long thought gone from the world, come to peer at him. 'When he becomes drunk, his subjects become tipsy without knowing why. When his blood falls, things grow. Why, High Queen Mab called Insmire, Insmoor, and Insweal from the sea. All the isles of Elfhame, formed in a single hour.' My heart speeds faster the longer that Baphen talks. My lungs feel as though they cannot get enough air. Because none of this can be describing Cardan. He cannot be connected to the land so profoundly, cannot be able to do all that and yet be under my control.”

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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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“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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