The Cruel Prince (The Folk of t -(The Folk of the Air #1) - Holly Black Page 0,57
for an artery. Go for his heart. But if I manage it, I will have murdered one of the favored sons of Faerie. I cannot even guess my punishment.
You’re no killer.
I balk and pull the knife free, running out of the room. I shove the bloody blade into my pocket. My boots clatter on the stone as I head for the stairs.
Looking back, I see him on his knees, pressing a hand to his side to stanch the blood. He lets out a hiss of pain that makes me recall my knife is cold iron. Cold iron hurts faeries a lot.
I could not be gladder of carrying it.
I round the corner and nearly run down Taryn.
“Jude!” she exclaims. “What happened?”
“Come on,” I tell her, dragging her toward the other students. There’s blood on my knuckles, blood on my fingers, but not much. I rub it off on my tunic.
“What did he do to you?” Taryn cries as I hustle her along.
I tell myself that I don’t mind that she left me. It wasn’t her job to stick out her neck, especially when she made it abundantly clear she didn’t want any part of this fight. Is there a treacherous part of me that’s pissed off and sad that she didn’t kick me awake and damn the consequences? Sure. But even I didn’t guess how far Valerian would go or how fast he’d get there.
We’re crossing the lawn when Cardan veers in our direction. He’s wearing loose clothes and carrying a practice sword.
His eyes narrow at the blood, and he points the wooden stick at me. “You seem to have cut yourself.” I wonder if he’s surprised that I’m alive. I wonder if he watched the tower the whole time during his luncheon, waiting for the amusing spectacle of me jumping to my death.
I take the knife out from under my tunic and show it to him, stained a flinty red. I smile. “I could cut you, too.”
“Jude!” Taryn says. She’s clearly shocked by my behavior. She should be. My behavior is shocking.
“Oh, go already,” Cardan tells her, waving her off with one hand. “Stop boring us both.”
Taryn takes a step back. I’m surprised, too. Is this part of the game?
“Are your dirty blade and even dirtier habits supposed to mean something?” His words are airy, drawling. He is looking at me as though I’m being uncouth by pointing a weapon at him—even though he’s the one with the minion who assaulted me. Twice. He’s looking at me as though we’re going to share some kind of witty repartee, but I am not sure what to say.
Is he really not worried about what I might have done to Valerian?
Could he possibly not know Valerian attacked me?
Taryn spots Locke and takes off toward him, hurrying across the field. They converse for a moment, then Taryn departs. Cardan notices my noticing. He sniffs, as though the very smell of me offends him.
Locke starts toward us, all loose limbs and shining eyes. He gives me a wave. For a moment, I feel almost safe. I am immensely grateful to Taryn, for sending him over. I am immensely grateful to Locke, for coming.
“You think I don’t deserve him,” I say to Cardan.
He smiles slowly, like the moon slipping beneath the waves of the lake. “Oh no, I think you’re perfect for each other.”
A few moments later, Locke has an arm thrown around my shoulders. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s get out of here.”
And so, without a backward glance at any of them, we do.
We walk through the Crooked Forest, where all the trees are bowed in the same direction as though they’ve been blown by a strong wind since they were saplings. I stop to pick a few blackberries from prickly stems of bushes growing between them. I have to blow tiny sugar ants from each before putting it in my mouth.
I offer a berry to Locke, but he demurs.
“So, in short, Valerian tried to kill me,” I say, finishing my story. “And I stabbed him.”
His fox eyes are steady on me. “You stabbed Valerian.”
“So I might be in some trouble.” I take a deep breath.
He shakes his head. “Valerian won’t tell anyone he was bested by a mortal girl.”
“What about Cardan? Won’t he be disappointed his plan didn’t work?” I gaze out at the sea, visible between the trunks of the trees. It seems to stretch on to forever.
“I doubt he even knew about it,” Locke says, and smiles at my surprise. “Oh, he’d