The Gilded Game

The carriages stand waiting in the palace stables, their lacquered sides gleaming under flickering witch-light lanterns. The scent of hay and leather hangs thick in the air, undercut by something sharper—iron, perhaps, or the lingering magic of the Hunt’s steeds stabled nearby.

"You can go"
Jude tells the two servants hovering by her family’s carriage. The green embroidery on their uniforms catches the light as they shift uncomfortably.
"Tell Madoc and Oriana we’re going to Lilia’s."

One servant, a creature with bark-like skin, clasps his hands.
"But General Madoc expressly commanded—"

"Wait. Is tonight that dinner Oriana planned with... what were they called?"
Taryn interrupts, tapping her chin.

Jude’s eyes go distant, her fingers moving in that quick calculation she does when strategizing.
"Next week, I think. Unless—"
Her shoulders slump.
"No wait, it’s tonight."

The disappointment sits bitter on my tongue. My empty house looms in my mind, all those echoing rooms, the too-quiet library where even the fire crackles softly, as if afraid to disturb the silence.

"It’s no trouble"
I try forcing lightness into my voice.

Jude’s hand closes around my wrist.
"We’ll take you home."

The warmth of her grip feels like an anchor.

"That’s fine with me"
I hadn't told the coachman to wait for me anyway, I had originally planned to walk home.
No sooner has the door clicked shut than Jude pounces.

"Now"
she says, leaning forward me even if she's sitting next to me
"I'd like you to tell us what happened during the hunt."
Though her tone stays light, there's a blade's edge beneath it.

"What part?"
I try to mask my unease with irony, but it’s useless. I’d already planned on telling them, but now that I’m here, under their scrutiny, I feel as though I’m about to be interrogated.

"Everything!"
Taryn bursts out, her usual composure cracking with curiosity.
"Cardan looked like he'd swallowed a live eel when we passed you earlier. Tell me he didn't do anything—"
Her hand flies to her mouth.
"Or... did he—"

"Really?"
Jude tilts her head, studying me
"I'd say he looked rather...friendly toward her."

The word hangs between us. The carriage lantern sways, casting shifting shadows across their expectant faces.

I stiffen.
"Friendly?"

I take a deep breath, the scent of polished leather and Jude's rosewater perfume filling my nose.
Her eyebrow lifts in challenge, as if daring me to deny it.

"I can explain"
I begin, then falter. The memory of Cardan's actions of the whole evening prickle.
"Maybe."

Four eyes lock onto me, unblinking. Outside, the wheels hit a rut, jostling us together in the dim cabin. The world passes by in a blur of torchlight and shadow, but inside this carriage, time seems to slow, waiting for my confession.

"I’ll start by saying that I don’t know how to explain some of his behavior today either. He was... touchy in ways that made no sense."
I glance between them. Jude and Taryn exchange a look. They both seem surprised by my words, but their reactions are different. Jude narrows her eyes, analytical, skeptical. Taryn blinks at me, her lips parted slightly in astonishment.

"I suspect that the problem is this hair clip my mom gave me."
I pull the bow-shaped clip from my hair, turning it over between my fingers so they can get a better look.
"Madalyn said that its magic amplifies the beauty of whoever wears it."

"She has great taste"
Taryn breathes, reaching out but not quite touching it. Her fingers hover like butterflies near a flame.
"It’s really cute. I want one too."

"So you’re telling me"
Jude says,
"that when I saw Cardan picking you up, joking, laughing, touching you, that was because of this?"
She gestures to the bow in my hand, looking unconvinced.
"Lili, you’re always beautiful. I don’t see how an object with a little magic could have such an effect on him."

"He did what?"
Taryn’s head whips toward me.
"Was this before or after we met?"

I hesitate. I’m not sure who to answer first. I decide to do one thing at a time.

"I didn’t know it had this effect until Madalyn told me. It’s not like magical creatures can’t be affected by things like this, maybe he didn't realize it either."
I say to Jude before turning to Taryn.
"It happened after we met."

Jude studies me for a moment, then shakes her head.

"And you think he didn’t realize it?"
she asks, her voice measured, careful.
"I personally had no idea. I just noticed you seemed more radiant today, nothing that drastic. But the first thing faeries sense is magic. If he touched you, he knew. "

I frown. "What do you mean?"

"I mean" she says,
"that a behavior like that, from him, can only be dictated by something already planned."
Her expression darkens, brows furrowing.
"I’ve never seen him put his hands on anyone. Not even that time those pixies were all over him."
Her tone makes it clear that the memory is both serious and unpleasant.

"Now that I think about it"
Taryn muses
"I don’t think I’ve seen him do something like that even when he was with Nicasia."

At the mention of her name, I see Jude’s jaw tighten slightly.

"They were together?"
I ask Taryn. She’s never told me that before.

"Yes, not for long, though."
she says, tilting her head.
"I thought you knew. After all, you said he wrote her name on the card and then erased it. And also the token thing. They broke up a while ago, from what I understand."

"How do you know that? You didn't tell me either."
Jude demands, turning her sharp gaze on her twin.

Taryn shifts uncomfortably.
"Um… I overheard Locke and Valerian talking about it"
she admits.

Jude exhales through her nose, muttering something under her breath.
"That explains a lot."

Taryn, sensing she’s lost some ground in the conversation, is quick to redirect it back to me.
"Anyway, we were listening to your story"
she says, waving a hand.
"Go on. Actually, no—tell us about when they split us into groups. Start from there."

My fingers twist the hairpin absently as I search for where to begin.

"After my spectacular blunder about being.. bald"
I start, watching moonlight glint off the bow
"I thought he'd disappeared when they divided us into groups."
The memory of that moment - makes me pause. Then something occurs to me.
"Wait, did you know Locke and Nicasia are paired for the spring dance?"

Taryn nods, the pearls in her hair catching the light.
"We found out in class the day after the card reveal."
Her mouth twists slightly.
"Also, Valerian's with Martha."

Not that I care tough.

"They made an arrangement"
Jude adds darkly, her fingers tapping an uneven rhythm against her knee. I catch the unspoken meaning - a topic we can't explore with Taryn present.

"Oh, Okay"
I say quickly, steering us back.

"Anyway, Cardan appeared just as I was trying to sneak into your group, accusing me of abandoning him."
My eyes roll hard.

Jade's laugh is sharp as broken glass.
"I didn't realize the prince suffered from separation anxiety."

The carriage hits a rut, jostling us together in a tangle of limbs and laughter. When we settle, I continue
"We saw the first clue and went to the kitchens-"

"Oh right, you told me you got to eat some cake!"
Taryn's smile is bright with genuine delight.

Jude's expression could curdle milk.
"I had to climb a rotting oak where the branches snapped like dry bones, and your challenge was eating cake?"

"Same reaction"
Taryn tells her, nudging my knee with hers.
"Probably the perk of having royalty as a partner."

I snort. "Not sure about that, but yeah, our clues were suspiciously easy."
The hairpin's metal grows warm between my fingers as I hesitate.
"Anyway... Cardan fed me cake, then I fed him, and..."
My voice trails off as heat creeps up my neck.

Jade's eyes narrow to slits.
"I don't like where this is going."

"then the next clue involved a kiss".

"Uhhhh?"
Taryn's voice jumps an octave, her hands flying to her mouth.

"It wasn't planned!"
My palms lift in surrender, though the memory of Cardan's lips against mine burns brighter than any denial.
"The next clue required a kiss on the cheek. I only saw that part afterward."

Jade goes perfectly still.
"So he kissed you first." It's not a question.

"Technically yes"
I hedge, studying the carriage ceiling like it holds the secrets of the universe.
"Though not exactly... on the cheek."

Taryn's gasp could suck all the air from the carriage.
"WHAT?"

Jade lunges forward, her braid whipping over her shoulder.
"He did what?"

"...And it wasn't even the first time"
I mutter, suddenly fascinated by the passing scenery outside. The coachman seems to be taking the long way home as requested.
Jude's hand clamps onto my wrist gently.

"You cannot be serious."
Her eyes search mine with alarming intensity. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing nervously at the absurdity of it all.
"When?"
she demands.

"Riddle night"
I admit, the words tasting like a confession.

Taryn claps her hands together.
"So he's into you"
Her certainty hangs in the air like perfume.
"That explains it"

"Let's not exaggerate now"
I counter.
Jude's theory about calculated moves feels safer, even if part of me remembers moments that felt startlingly genuine. She rubs her temples like she's solving a complex equation.

"First he says vile things about you, then he... kisses you?"
Her fingers curl into fists.
"What kind of twisted game is he playing?"

"Believe me, I've asked myself the same thing"
I say, pointing at her in agreement.
"Though if it makes you feel better, before leaving tonight he made sure to note how unimpressed he is with my looks. So either he's-"

"He's just an asshole"
Jade spits, the words landing like a guillotine blade.

Taryn's gasp hangs in the air between us, her fingers pressing so hard against her lips they leave pale imprints when she finally lowers them.

"Are you sure?"
she demands, voice sharp as a blade. Moonlight spills through the window, glinting off the silver embroidery on her sleeves as she leans forward.
"He really said that to you?"

I nod, tilting my chin up in a poor imitation of Cardan's bored arrogance. My voice drops into his low, honeyed drawl:

"'I don't see much of a change.'"

The words taste bitter even in mimicry.
Taryn's hands flutter to her lap like wounded birds.

"Wait, when exactly did he—"

"Right after deigning to apply that ridiculous perfume we won on the treasure hunt"
I interrupt, crossing my arms tight against my chest.

The memory makes my skin prickle—his fingers brushing that spot beneath my ear, his breath warm against my neck as he leaned in to assess his handiwork. I can still smell the faint trace of pomegranates clinging to my skin.

"Like he was doing me some grand favor."

Jude scoffs, the sound harsh in the confined space.
"He's toying with you."

"Not on the cheek…mhh"
Taryn murmurs, eyes wide still with scandalized delight. She mouths the words again silently, as if they're too delicious not to savor.

I groan, dragging my hands down my face hard enough to see stars. The hairpin's sharp edge bites into my palm, a welcome distraction.

"Yes. I know. Trust me, I'm aware."

Jade exhales through her nose, a dragon ready to breathe fire. Her arms are crossed so tightly the fabric of her dress creaks in protest.

"Let me summarize"
she says, each word clipped and precise.
"Cardan calls you disgusting. Mocks you openly. Then turns around and—what? Flirts? Touches you? Kisses you?"

Her fingers flex like she's imagining them around someone's throat.
"All while making sure you know he doesn't find you attractive."

"Correct"
I say, popping the 't' with false cheer. The carriage hits a rut, jolting us together.

"Isn't he just the picture of chivalry?"

Taryn tilts her head, studying me with unsettling focus. The pearls in her hair click softly as she moves.

"And you don't... like him?"
The pause before the words is just a beat too long.

I shift, suddenly aware of how the velvet seat sticks to my thighs.
"Like?"
My voice comes out higher than intended.
"If you're asking if I'm in love with him, of course not."

Taryn's skeptical hum vibrates through the carriage. She opens her mouth, no doubt to press further, but thinks better of it when Jude shoots her a warning look.
Silence settles over us, thick and heavy. The carriage wheels creak rhythmically against the cobblestones, a lullaby for the damned. Outside, the night air smells of impending rain and the distant salt-tang of the sea.

"At least you got cake out of it."
Jade says at last, smoothing her skirts with deliberate calm. The fabric whispers like a blade being sheathed.
I snort, the tension breaking like a wave against rocks.
Meanwhile, Taryn's grin is wicked in the flickering light.

"So"
she purrs, leaning so close I can see the kohl smudged at the corners of her eyes.
"What's it like to kiss him?"

The question hits me like a physical blow.
"What's what?"

"Don't play dumb."
Taryn's smirk widens.
"Cardan. What's he like as a kisser?"

Jade makes a sound of utter disgust, waving her hands between us as if to physically ward off the conversation.
"I don't want to know these details. Save it for when I'm not trapped in a carriage with you two."

Taryn's laugh is bright and merciless.
"Oh come on, I'm not asking if he used tongue—"

Jade claps her hands over her ears with a dramatic groan, which only makes Taryn laugh harder. The sound bounces off the carriage walls, too loud for the quiet night outside.

"Well?"
Taryn prompts, leaning in slightly, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

Jude groans.
"Please spare me."

"It's not like I have much to say about it."

Taryn smirks.
"I highly doubt that."

What's it like to kiss Cardan?
The memory rises unbidden—the heat of his mouth, the way he'd cradled my jaw like something precious even as his kiss turned demanding. The scent of him. The dizzying realization that the boy who sneered at me in daylight melted against me in shadow.
I hesitate, my fingers tightening around the edge of my sleeve as I glance between them.
I exhale, trying to find the right words.

"It was…"
I trail off, the memory creeping back in, uninvited.
I clear my throat.
"Fine. It was fine. He's good."

Taryn groans.
"Lili, come on."

Jude lets out a short laugh, shaking her head.
"She’s not going to tell you more than that, Taryn. Let it go."

Taryn pouts, but I can see the amusement in her eyes.
"Well, I do hope it happens again. Just so I can ask you about it all over again."

"Don’t hold your breath"
I mutter, turning to stare out the window.

Jude watches me, sharp as ever.
"Are you sure about that?"

I open my mouth, ready to throw some sarcastic remark back at her, but I hesitate. Because the truth is—I don’t know.
I don’t want it to happen again, I thought I did but no.
…Do I?
The carriage lanterns flicker as Taryn leans forward, her eyes bright with curiosity.

"And the rest? What else happened after?"

"We went to the hall of mirrors"
I say, feeling an involuntary shiver crawl up my spine at the memory. The glass had shown me too much—things I wasn't ready to face.
"And in there—"

"Doerve House!"
the coachman's call cuts through the night, his voice muffled by the carriage walls. The carriage slow to a stop.
Taryn's face falls as she glances out the window at the looming silhouette of my estate. Moonlight glints off the ivy-covered stone walls, casting long shadows across the manicured hedges.

"What? Already? We were just getting to the scandalous bits!"
She pouts, turning back to me.
"Ugh, I wanted to hear everything. Next time we see each other, we'll talk about the whole story."

"Absolutely"
I promise, though my stomach twists at the thought. Of all the things I'd wanted to share tonight, seeing my parents' reflections in those cursed mirrors had been at the top of my list. Some truths are too heavy to carry alone.
The carriage door creaks open as Jude steps out first, offering me a hand. I take her hand and alight onto the gravel path, my shoes crunching against the stones.

"Saved by the coachman"
she teases, though her eyes dart meaningfully toward where Taryn sits.

"See you"
I say, adjusting my skirts.
"Thanks for taking me home."
But before I can turn toward the house, Jude follows me out, her expression unreadable in the flickering torchlight.

"I thought you had the dinner to attend"
I remark, watching as she guides me a few steps away from the carriage. The wind picks up, carrying the scent of rain and making the torches dance wildly.
Jude glances over her shoulder at the carriage where Taryn waits, then lowers her voice.

"I know you couldn't say this in front of Taryn, but..."
Her eyes dart around the shadowed grounds before locking onto mine.
"You're still following the plan, right?"

The plan. The word lands like a stone in my gut. I'd thought of it in fleeting moments tonight, but truthfully, it had slipped my mind more often than not. My fingers find the hairpin again, its edges biting into my skin.

"Huh? Oh, sure"
I lie, nodding. The words taste bitter, but I force them out anyway.

"Good."
Jude's smile is sharp as a knife's edge in the moonlight.
"You're right to have some fun, even at his expense."

I nod numbly. It's not a bad thought, really. That's all tonight was: just playing a part in some grand scheme. And maybe I could forget how Cardan's hands had felt on my waist, how his lips had—

"I have to go now"
Jude says, cutting through my thoughts. She glances back at the carriage where Taryn's silhouette is visible through the window, patiently waiting.
Then, to my complete shock, Jude steps closer and presses a quick kiss to my cheek.

"Jude!"
My mouth falls open as I raise a hand to the spot where her lips had been, still warm from the brief contact.
"What was that for?"

Jude steps back, grinning.
"At least you got a proper kiss tonight"
she declares, winking.

"Are you flirting with me?" I ask, jokingly smirking

Jude's grin is all mischief as she climbs back into the carriage.
"You'd like that. You're late though."

The other wink she throws me is downright wicked.
I stand there, watching as the carriage door swings shut behind her. The lanterns inside cast flickering shadows over Jude’s sharp features as she settles back into her seat, arms crossed, a small smirk still lingering on her lips. I huff a small laugh, shaking my head.

The heavy door clicks shut behind me, sealing me into the dimly lit foyer. The air smells of beeswax. I shove the hairpin deeper into my pocket, but my fingers brush against the cool glass vial of perfume instead. The touch sends an unwelcome prickle down my spine.
Useless. I shake my head, pushing the thought away.

“I’m home”

I call out, my voice echoing through the empty halls. No answer.
From the dining room, the faint clink of silverware against porcelain drifts toward me. Gia must be setting the table for tomorrow. I pad closer, my damp skirts whispering against the marble floor.

“Gia, I’m—”
The words die in my throat.

Teon lounges at the head of the table, his fingers curled lazily around a wineglass. The ruby liquid inside catches the candlelight, casting bloody streaks across the white tablecloth. His smile is all teeth.

“Oh, hello, dear Lilia!”
His voice is syrup-sweet, dripping with false warmth.
“We were waiting for you.”
He sets his fork down with deliberate precision.
“Join us. I imagine you’re famished.”

My gaze snaps to the woman seated across from him.
Her skin is the delicate pink of peony petals, her hair a spill of ink-black silk. But her eyes are sharp, assessing, and rake over me like claws. She doesn’t blink. Just watches, as if deciding whether I’m worth the effort of crushing beneath her heel.
I force my voice steady.

“I was told I’d be called when requested.”

Teon waves a hand, the silver rings on his fingers glinting.
“We thought we’d keep you some company.”

“You could announce yourselves instead of sneaking in.”
The words come out sharper than I intend.

The woman's lips curve, though her expression remains cold.
“The maid let us in.”

Teon chuckles, swirling his wine.
“Flor here is very particular about manners. She told your maid.. Gia? That we were acquaintances of yours.”
His smirk widens.
“The poor thing even made us snacks while we waited.”
He gestures to the spread—roasted figs, sugared almonds, a platter of glistening meats.
“Though I admit, I would’ve preferred the other method.”

“What are we doing here?”

I ask, my fingers tightening in a fist against my skirt.

Flor exhales through her nose, as if my bluntness is a personal offense.
Teon, however, just pats the seat beside him.

“Come now, don’t be a bad hostess.”
His voice is light
“We came with the best of intentions. Sit.”

I don’t move.
Flor’s fingers drum once against the table.
Slowly, I pull out the chair, but I drag it back, putting as much distance between myself and Teon as possible. He leans forward, his smile never faltering.
Flor's peony-pink fingers trace the rim of her own goblet.

"The princess believes you could use guidance in grace and eloquence"
she says, her voice smooth as the silk draping her shoulders.

"So you're here to give me a lesson in etiquette?"

The words come out edged with more bite than I intended. A log shifts in the fireplace, sending up a shower of sparks.
Teon's chuckle is warm honey poured over broken glass.

"Lilia, Lilia... a silver tongue opens doors, and a graceful stance wins hearts."
His smile doesn't reach his cold, assessing eyes.
"Surely you've noticed how doors kept slamming in that pretty face of yours?"
The fire pops sharply, like a bone breaking. I feel the heat of it on my cheeks, though my hands remain icy in my lap.

Flor tilts her head, the movement so precise it could have been measured with calipers.

"I expected a different reaction. Something more—"
she makes a fluttering gesture with her long fingers
"—panicked."

I raise my chin, meeting her gaze squarely.
"Should I be panicked?"

My voice stays level, though my pulse thrums a frantic rhythm beneath my skin.
Flor's only answer is a slow sip of wine, her blue eyes watching me over the rim of her goblet.
Teon leans forward, resting his chin on interlaced fingers.

"Maybe I altered your image a bit when I described you to Flor."
His grin widens at my sharp inhale.
"I like to do it sometimes, sorry. And then humans always tend to be quite... emotional."

I deliberately reach for my untouched wine glass, if only to give my trembling hands something to do. The crystal is shockingly cold against my fingertips as I swirl the dark liquid, watching it cling to the sides like blood. I hate the stereotypes everyone has about me.

"I imagine your disappointment now that you don't see me screaming in terror."
I lock eyes with Flor.
"I'm not stupid enough to agree to a deal and then be scared for something like this."

The silence stretches taut as a bowstring. Then Teon barks a laugh, slapping the table hard enough to make the silverware jump.

"See?"
he crows to Flor.
"You've got a good foundation to build on!"

Flor sets her glass down with a precise click.
"A sharp tongue may amuse" she murmurs
"but sharp blades cut both ways."
Her gaze drifts to where my nails dig into my palms.

I take a slow breath to give myself a second before answering.
"I thought that was why I was chosen."

Flor's lips curve in something too sharp to be called a smile.

"The princess delights in finding promise in the unripe and unrefined,"
she says, brushing an invisible speck from her sleeve.
"And, it seems, for handing me the thorniest of duties. I've yet to refuse one, no matter how daunting it appears."

The fire crackles in the hearth, casting flickering light across their expectant faces. I can practically see the calculations unfolding behind Flor's blue eyes, the amusement dancing in Teon's. My stomach twists.

"So you're going to teach me?"
The words taste bitter on my tongue.

Flor's nostrils flare slightly, as if I've offended her simply by speaking.

"And what would I do then?"
Teon interjects, propping his elbow on the table and grinning at me like we're sharing some private joke.
I exhale through my nose, the beginnings of a headache pulbbing at my temples.

"Say things clearly then"
I snap, the exhaustion of the long evening finally bleeding into my voice.
"I don't have the strength to decipher everything that's being said."

Flor's gaze doesn't waver from mine.
"Metaphors are the language of courts. You'll learn to wield them like blades."
She reaches for a sugared plum from the platter, examining it between thumb and forefinger.
"Starting tomorrow, you'll attend me three afternoons each week. We'll begin with basic courtesies before progressing to—"

"Three afternoons?"
The words escape before I can stop them. My schedule is already stretched thin between lessons and—

"You'll cancel whatever petty engagements occupy your time"
Flor interrupts, biting into the plum. Juice the color of blood wells at the corner of her mouth. She dabs it away with a linen napkin, never breaking eye contact.
"The princess's favor isn't given lightly. Nor is mine."

Teon leans back in his chair, the wood creaking under his weight.
"Don't look so grim, Lilia. Flor's the best tutor in the Circle of Larks. Half the nobility would kill for private lessons."

Not that I have much say in the matter.
Flor rises from the table with the liquid grace of a serpent uncoiling.

“You’ll come to me after your lessons at the palace. Ask about me once you arrive at the princess quarters.”

she says, not a request but a decree.
Teon pushes back his chair with a scrape of wood against stone, flashing me a grin that’s all teeth.

“And I’ll stop by every now and then to see how it goes.”
He leans in, close enough that I catch the scent of spiced wine and something darker beneath—iron, maybe, or old blood.
“Just to make sure you don’t miss my presence too much.”

I glare at him. The idea of missing him is laughable. His very presence is an irritant, like a splinter lodged under my skin.
Flor drifts toward the door, her steps soundless on the polished floor. She pauses beside me, her peony-pink fingers brushing the damp fabric of my sleeve.

“Your attire is… surprising”
she murmurs, her voice cool.
“At least you’ve been spared the dreadful taste so common among your kind.”

Before I can retort, she’s gliding away, leaving behind the faintest trace of her perfume—something floral and poisonous.

“Your first compliment!”
Teon crows, clapping his hands together with exaggerated delight. He winks at me, then follows Flor toward the entrance, his boots clicking against the marble.

At the threshold, Flor turns back, her silhouette framed by the flickering sconces.
“Mind that you eat and sleep, mortal.”
Her blue eyes gleam.
“I expect you awake and breathing tomorrow.”

Then the door shuts behind them with a soft, final click.
The silence that follows is so complete it rings in my ears. The candles burn low, their wax pooling like tears across the silver holders. The remnants of their meal sit abandoned—half-eaten.
I exhale, long and slow, as if I’ve been holding my breath this entire time.
Once in my room, I shut the door behind me, locking it. A pointless gesture, really—locks don’t mean much in Elfhame—but it gives me a small sense of control.
Alone.
The relief is immediate, a weight lifting from my chest. I don’t want to think, don’t want to speak, don’t want to hear another word for the next twelve hours.