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There are two main reasons people drink: they drink for enjoyment, and they drink to forget. Since the very first time faerie wine touched Cardan’s lips, it had been to forget. To forget his mother locked away in a tower, forget Balekin and his whip, forget Jude, whom he both hated and wanted so much. Forget, Forget, Forget.
But this week he was forced to remember, because this week Jude was gone — away on business at the lower courts — and she had made him promise not to even touch a bottle of wine while she was gone.
“I need you clearheaded so you can make sure Elfhame doesn’t go up in flames while I’m gone,” she told him firmly. He bit his lip, eyes sliding to the floor. She must have caught something on his face, because her voice softened a bit. “It’s just a week ,Cardan, and then you can party all you want. You have to promise me.”
He blew out a breath. “I promise.” Cardan expected to feel the familiar tingle of magic binding him to his word, but it didn’t come. He snapped his head up to look at her, and she nodded, stepping forward to drop a kiss on his lips before sweeping out the door.
He wasn’t bound. Jude was trusting him. Cardan swore to himself he wouldn’t make her regret it.
Now, sat on the floor of his room staring hard at the wall, tears leaking silently from his eyes, the threads of that promise were coming undone. He had been so good; it had been four days. He was so close.
But it was too much.
It was late, but he couldn’t sleep. The idea of going back to sleep made him want to curl up into a ball and die, because every time he closed his eyes all he could see was Dain and Balekin laughing while the human servant brought the whip down on his back over and over, his parents’ scornful and uncaring gaze while he cried out in pain. Then he would look down and see that his body was gone, and in its place were the sharp scales of a snake.
He just needed to forget. Cardan opened his eyes — he hadn’t even known they were shut — looking across the room to a portrait of some old royal whose name he couldn’t remember. Behind it was where he kept a bottle of wine for whenever he happened to need it. Everything in him was trying to pull him over to it, make him drink it; make him forget. But then he thought of Jude, beautiful, terrifying Jude who would look at him with disappointment when she came home tomorrow. Jude, who’s trust he would be breaking yet again.
Even with guilt heavy on his shoulders, it wasn’t enough. Cardan unfolded himself, crawling over to the portrait. It swung open easily, and Cardan grabbed the bottle out, the glass cool against his sweaty hands. He popped the cap open and took a swig. Then another. Not enough. A sob broke loose from his chest, thinking once again of Jude. Fresh tears flowed down his cheeks, and he could feel his eyeliner running. He took another drink. Cardan looked up for a moment, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror over the vanity. His hair was messy, his makeup was running and mixing with tears, and he had spilled wine on his shirt. He stared at the reflection and then burst out laughing. He couldn’t stop. He laughed and laughed, and drank and god it hurt, but finally he was forgetting. Cardan felt his brain become fuzzy around the edges, and soon he became drowsy.
He started to pull himself up off the floor, but then fell, landing with a thud on his stomach. And then he was laughing again, and didn't bother trying to get to the bed. Soon everything faded and he was asleep. His family was gone, the snake was gone, and Jude’s disappointed look was gone. All gone. All forgotten.
***
When Cardan woke the next morning the first thing he noticed was that his head hurt. A lot. That was weird; he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually been hungover. Apparently the time off the alcohol had weakened his system. The second thing he noticed was that he was no longer on the floor. There was a bed under him. His bed. The third thing was that he was not alone.
Jude sat at the desk on the far side of the room, bent over some papers. Cardan started to sit up, but then quickly regretted it, groaning and flopping back down. Jude looked up, putting down her pen and coming over to the edge of the bed.
“You’re awake,” she said, her face screwed up with way too many emotions for Cardan to decipher with his half functioning brain. She looked stuck between yelling at him and hugging him, which was fair enough. Finally she sighed. “I told you no wine.”
“I’m sorry.” It came out as a sort of choked whisper. He rolled over, curling up again. Fuck his head hurt. “I didn’t– I wasn’t – It… I’m sorry.” Cardan’s eyes stung, but he wouldn’t cry again. Not today.
With another sigh of what sounded like resignation, Jude climbed into the bed beside him, sliding down so her nose was only inches from his. “Why?” she asked, almost a whisper.
Cardan’s eyes traced over her face, taking in the texture of her skin, the slope of her nose, and the mix of worry and confusion in her eyes. He took a breath, relieved to once again be able to breathe in her scent. “I needed to forget.”
She nodded slowly. Cardan was pretty sure she only partially understood, but she didn’t press it. Instead, she reached out, pulling him closer so his head was resting against her chest. He relaxed into her, tension he hadn’t noticed leaving his body.
“You scared me,” she murmured into his hair, “When I came home to find you passed out on the floor with empty wine bottles and tear tracks down your face.”
“I’m sorry.”
“We should work on this.”
Cardan reached under the covers for Jude’s hand squeezing it with the small amount of energy he had. “I’ll try.”