The Queen of Nothing (The Folk of the Air, #3)

by Holly Black

“Jude, you can’t really think I don’t know it’s you. I knew you from the moment you walked into the brugh.”

I am the Queen of Elfhame. Even though I am the queen in exile, I am still the queen. And that means Madoc isn’t just trying to take Cardan’s throne. He’s trying to take mine.

“Dad,” Vivi says. “Stay where you are. If you try to stop her, I’ve got plenty more arrows, and I’ve been waiting half my life to put you in the ground.” “You?” Madoc sneers. “The only way you’d be the end of me is by accident.” He reaches down to snap the shaft sticking out of his chest. “Have a care. My army is just over the hill.” “Go get them, then,” Vivi says, sounding half hysterical. “Get your whole damn army.”

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

“It was terrifying,” he says, “watching you fall. I mean, you’re generally terrifying, but I am unused to fearing for you. And then I was furious. I am not sure I have ever been that angry before.” “Mortals are fragile,” I say. “Not you,” he says in a way that sounds a little like a lament. “You never break.”

“Good.” His expression is wistful. “That’s one reason I didn’t want to believe you’d joined up with Madoc. The other is that I want you here by my side, as my queen.”

“I don’t need anyone to help me tell Randalin that this is my home and my land and that I am going nowhere and relinquishing nothing.” “And yet,” Cardan says, clamping his hand on the back of the councilor’s throat, “there are still some things I would say to him.”

“It’s you I love,” he says. “I spent much of my life guarding my heart. I guarded it so well that I could behave as though I didn’t have one at all. Even now, it is a shabby, worm-eaten, and scabrous thing. But it is yours.” He walks to the door to the royal chambers, as though to end the conversation. “You probably guessed as much,” he says. “But just in case you didn’t.”

“I do love you,” I whisper. “I will always love you.”

“But now you’ve explained it,” he says. “And you do love me.” “I love you,” I confirm.

I start to speak, but he stops me with a gesture. “And you.” He looks at me, his lips curving in something that’s not quite a smile; it’s more and less than that. “I knew little else, but I always knew you.”