He really hopes that was a warning shot and not a miss.
“Prince Oak,” says Jude. “You’re making some very dangerous decisions lately.”
He takes a deep breath. “I understand why you’d think I was planning to betray—”
“Answer me on the field,” Jude says, cutting him off. “Ready for our duel?”
Wren steps forward. The rain has plastered her long, wild hair to her throat and chest. “Oak, wait.”
Bogdana grabs her arm. “Leave them to sort out their own family affair.”
Wren wrenches free. “I warned you. You can’t keep me your thrall. Not without Bex.”
“You think not?” says the storm hag. “Child, I will have my revenge, and you are too weak to stop me. We both know that. Just as we know that the falcons will listen to me once you collapse. And you will—you overextended yourself when you broke the curse on the troll kings and again on the ship, and you’ve used your power twice today already. There’s not enough of you left to face me. There’s barely enough of you to remain standing.”
Jude is adjusting her dress, slicing it so that she can tie the sides of the skirt into makeshift pants. What is her game?
Had they not been isolated on Insear, the army of Elfhame would have easily cut down Bogdana and Wren and her falcons. But so long as Bogdana’s storm keeps them isolated, so long as Wren stops arrows, Jude won’t be able to keep them from Cardan’s tent forever.
Jude will never abdicate, though. She will never run, not even if Cardan is dead.
Of course, if Cardanisdead, Jude might well blame Oak.
He wants to see hesitation in his sister’s face, but her expression reminds him of Madoc’s before a battle.
Someone is going to kill you. Better it be me.
Oak thinks about being a child, spoiled and vain, making trouble. It shames him to think of smashing things in Vivi’s apartment, crying for his mother, when they took him there for his protection. It shames him more to think of ensorcelling his sister and the delight he felt at the red sting of her cheek after she slapped herself. He knew it hurt and, later, felt guilty about it.
But he didn’t understand Jude’s pride and how he shamed her. How that was the far worse crime.
Jude attributes most of her worst impulses to their father, sparing Oak’s provocation. Sparing Oriana, too, who never made room in her heart for a little mortal girl who lost her mother.
Still, that anger and resentment have to be in her somewhere. Waiting for this moment.
“I heard that Madoc offered the High King a duel,” says Bogdana. “But he was too much a coward to accept.”
“My father should have asked me,” Jude says, unbothered by the insult to her beloved.
“I don’t want to fight with you,” Oak warns.
“Of course you do,” Jude says. “Van, bring me my favorite sword since Wren ruined the other one. I left it where I changed clothes.”
The prince looks over to see the Roach, his mouth grim, walk toward the tent. A few moments later, he returns with a sword wrapped in heavy black cloth.
“I wasn’t part of Randalin’s conspiracy,” Oak tries again.
But Jude only gives her brother a grim smile. “Well, then, what a wonderful opportunity for you to prove your loyalty and die for the High King.”
The Roach unwraps a blade, but Oak can barely pay attention. Panic has taken hold of him. He cannot fight her. And if he does, he absolutely cannot lose control.
“There are twin swords,” Jude says. “Heartseeker and Heartsworn. Heartsworn can cut through anything. It once cut through an otherwise invulnerable serpent’s head and broke a curse. You can see why I’d like it.”
“That hardly seems fair,” Oak says, his eye on the sword at last. It’s finely crafted, as beautiful as one might expect one made in a great smith’s forge to be. And then he understands. He lets out his breath in a rush.
Jude moves into an easy stance. She’s good. She’s always been good. “What makes you think I am interested in fairness?”
“Fine,” says Oak. “But you won’t find me an easy opponent.”
