The Cruel Prince (The Folk of the Air #1)(100)

I give Oak what I hope is an encouraging smile. I have often wondered if my past is the reason I am the way I am, if it has made me monstrous. If so, will I make a monster out of him?

Vivi won’t, I tell myself. Her job is to help him care about things other than power, and my job is to care only about power so I can carve out room for his return. With a deep breath, I head toward the doors out into the hallway. I pass the pair of knights and turn a corner, out of their sight line. I gulp down a few breaths before unlatching the windows.

I wait a few hopeful moments. If the Roach and the Ghost climb through, I can explain the crown’s location. But, instead, the doors to the banquet open, and I hear Madoc order the knights off. I move so that he can see me. When he does, he comes toward me with purpose. “Jude. I thought you came this way.”

“I needed some fresh air,” I tell him, which is indicative of how nerved up I am. I have answered the question he hasn’t yet asked.

He waves it off, though. “You should have come to me first when you found Prince Cardan. We could have negotiated from a position of strength.”

“I thought you might say something like that,” I tell him.

“What matters now is that I need to speak with him alone. I’d like you to go inside and bring him out here, so we can talk. All three of us can talk.”

I move away from the window, into the open space of the hall. The Ghost and the Roach will be here in a moment, and I don’t want Madoc to spot them. “About Oak?” I ask.

As I had hoped, Madoc follows me away from the window, frowning. “You knew?”

“That you have a plan for ruling Elfhame yourself?” I ask him. “I figured it out.”

He stares at me as though I am a stranger, but I have never felt less like one. For the first time, we are both unmasked.

“And yet you brought Prince Cardan here, right to Balekin,” he says. “Or to me? Is that it? Are we to bargain now?”

“It must be one or the other, right?” I say.

He’s growing angry. “Would you prefer no High King at all? If the crown is destroyed, there will be war, and if there’s war, I will win it. One way or another, I will have that crown, Jude. And you stand to benefit when I do. There’s no reason to oppose me. You can have your knighthood. You can have all the things you’ve ever dreamed of.” He takes another step toward me. We are in striking distance of each other.

“You said, ‘I will have that crown.’ You,” I remind him, my hand going to the hilt of my sword. “You’ve barely spoken Oak’s name. He is just a means to an end, and that end is power. Power for you.”

“Jude—” he begins, but I cut him off.

“I’ll make a bargain. Swear to me that you’ll never raise a hand against Oak, and I’ll help. Promise me that when he comes of age, you will immediately step down as regent. You’ll give him whatever power you’ll have amassed, and you’ll do it willingly.”

Madoc’s mouth twists. His hands fist. I know he loves Oak. He loves me. I’m sure he loved my mother, too, in his own way. But he is who and what he is. I know he cannot promise.

I draw my sword, and he does, too, the scrape of metal loud in the room. I hear distant laughter, but here in the hall, we are alone.

My hands are sweating, but this has the feeling of inevitability, as though this is what I was careening toward the whole time, my whole life.

“You can’t beat me,” Madoc says, moving into a fighting stance.

“I already have,” I say.

“You have no way to win.” Madoc flicks his blade, encouraging me to come toward him, as though this is just some practice bout. “What can you hope to do with one missing prince, here in Balekin’s stronghold? I will knock you down, and then I will take him from you. You could have had anything you wanted, but now you will be left with nothing.”

“Oh, yes, let me tell you my whole plan. You’ve goaded me right into it.” I make a face. “Let’s not stall anymore. This is the part where we fight.”

“At least you’re no coward.” He rushes at me with such force that even though I block the blow, I am thrown to the floor. I roll into a standing position, but I am shaken. He has never fought me like this, full out. This will be no genteel exchange of blows.

He’s the High King’s general. I knew he was better than me, but not how much better.

I cheat a glance toward the window. I can’t be stronger than him, but I don’t need to be. I just need to keep on my feet a little while longer. I strike out, hoping to catch him by surprise. He knocks me back again. I dodge and turn, but he expects the blow, and I have to stumble inelegantly back, blocking yet another heavy chop of his blade. My arms hurt from the strength behind his blows.

This is all happening too fast.

I come in with a series of techniques he’s taught me and then use a bit of swordplay I learned from the Ghost. I feign left and then land a clever slice to his side. It’s a shallow hit, but it surprises us both when a line of red wets his coat. He thrusts toward me. I jump to one side, and he elbows me in the face, knocking me back to the ground. Blood gushes over my mouth from my nose.

I push myself dizzily to my feet.

I’m scared, no matter how I try to play it off. I was arrogant. I am trying to buy time, but one of his blows could split me in half.