Extraits

Alors que nous sommes blottis dans les bras l’un de l’autre, il m’embrasse tendrement, à vif.

Je souffle contre lui :

— Tu m’as manqué.

Cet aveu m’étourdit. Je me sens plus à nue que lorsqu’il voyait chaque centimètre carré de ma peau.

— Quand j’étais dans le monde des mortels, je te considérais comme mon ennemi, mais tu me manquais quand même, dis-je.

— Ma chère ennemie jurée, comme je suis heureux que tu sois revenue.

— C’était terrifiant, confesse t-il, de te voir chuter sur la table de banquet. Je veux dire : je suis habitué à ce que tu sois terrifiante, mais pas à avoir peur pour toi. À la suite de cet incident, j’étais furieux. Je doute avoir déjà éprouvé pareille colère.

— Les mortels sont fragiles.

— Pas toi, objecte t-il d’un ton où semble pointer le regret. Toi, tu ne te brises jamais.

Cardan's voice comes. "Do not touch her."

A terrible silence follows. I wait for him to pronounce judgment on me. Whatever he commands will be done. His power is absolute. I don't even have the strength to fight back.

"Whatever can you mean?" Randalin says.

"She's-"

"She is my wife," Cardan says, his voice carrying over the crowd. "The rightful High Queen of Elfhame. And most definitely not in exile."

The screen door bangs. Then Taryn rushes in front of me, her gown blowing in the morning breeze. If I didn’t know what a real princess of Faerie looked like, I might think she resembled one. For a moment, it seems impossible that we’re related, no less identical.

“What happened to you?” she asks. “You look like you got into a fight.”

I don’t speak. I just keep walking. I am not even sure where I am going, as slow and stiff and sore as I am. Maybe to Bryern. He’ll find me a place to crash, even if I won’t like the price later. Even bunking with Grima Mog would be better than this.

"I need your help,” Taryn says.

"No," I say. “No. Absolutely not. Never. If that’s why you came here, now you’ve got your answer and you can leave.”

"Jude, just hear me out." She walks in front of me, causing me to have to look at her. I glance up and then start to circle around the billowing skirts of her dress.

"Also no." I say. “No, I won’t help you. No, I won’t hear you explain why I should. It really is a magical word: no. You say whatever bullshit you want and I just say no."

"Locke is dead,” she blurts out.

I wheel around. Above us, the sky is bright and blue and clear. Birds call to one another from nearby trees. In the distance, there’s the sound of construction and road traffic. In this moment, the juxtaposition of standing in the mortal world and hearing about the demise of an immortal being — one that I knew, one I kissed — is especially surreal.

“Dead?” It seems impossible, after everything I’ve seen. “Are you sure?”

The night before his wedding, Locke and his friends tried to ride me down like a pack of dogs after a fox. I promised to pay him back for that. If he’s dead, I never will.

Nor will he ever plan another party for the purpose of humiliating Cardan. He won’t laugh with Nicasia nor play Taryn and I against one another again. Maybe I should be relieved, for all the trouble he caused. But I am surprised by feeling grief instead.

Taryn takes a breath, as if steeling herself. "He's dead because I killed him."

Elle extirpe quelques bandages de son manteau puis se tourne vers Cardan :

— Vous ne devriez pas rester là.

— Je suis ici chez moi, fait-il remarquer, offensé. Et Jude est mon épouse.

— C’est ce que vous racontez à tout le monde, rétorque la Bombe. Mais je vais retirer ses points. Ça m’étonnerait que vous ayez envie d’y assister.

— Oh, ça reste à prouver, dis-je. Il a peut-être envie de m’entendre crier.

— J’apprécierais en effet, affirme Cardan en se levant. Peut-être que cela arrivera un jour.

En partant, il porte une main à mes cheveux. Un effleurement sitôt esquissé, sitôt disparu.

Il appuie une main chaude contre ma joue.

— Je t’aime, Jude. Je t’aime depuis longtemps. Je ne cesserai jamais de t’aimer.

“Seelie and Unseelie, Wild Folk and Shy Folk, I am glad to have you march under my banner, glad of your loyalty, grateful for your honor.” His gaze goes to me. “To you, I offer honey wine and the hospitality of my table. But to traitors and oath breakers, I offer my queen’s hospitality instead. The hospitality of knives.”

L'amour, c'est idiot. Tout ce qu'on fait, c'est se briser le coeur mutuellement.

“Come home and shout at me. Come home and fight with me. Come home and break my heart, if you must.”

Page 284

(Discours de Cardan)

- À tous, j'offre de l'hydromel et l'hospitalité de ma table. En revanche, aux traîtres et à ceux qui rompent leurs serments, j'offre plutôt l'hospitalité de la reine . L'hospitalité de ses couteaux.