<Jude’s POV>

The walls of my apartment close in around me as I stand in the kitchen, my fingers brushing over the edge of the knife block.

My sweet boyfriend Josh sits on the couch behind me, his voice a steady hum as he talks about something I haven't been listening to for the past ten minutes. He fingers the vase of flowers that he gifted to me earlier today after gym. Much more thoughtful than Cardan- I'd say.

I pull a wine glass from the cabinet and grab a  bottle, but before I can turn toward the sink, I feel him behind me, too close. His hands slide over my shoulders, then down to my waist then to my hips, a gesture too familiar, too unwanted. I stiffen slightly, relaxing into his grip - I can trust him.. right?

He lifts up my grey print t-shirt, tracing his fingertips over my bare skin, sending goosebumps all over my upper body.
I try and push his hands down, forcing a laugh, "Josh, what are you doing?"

I try harder to yank his hands of me, but his strong grip is firmly planted on my chest under my shirt, unmovable.

"You don't have to keep pretending you're so tough," he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear, its minty scent sharp and lingering.

"Josh, stop." My voice is flat, sharp, and unforgiving.

Instead of releasing me, his grip tightens. "Oh, come on, Jude. Stop acting like you're not into this."

My blood roars in my ears. I shove my elbow back into his ribs, but he barely flinches. He catches my wrist in a brutal grip and spins me around, slamming me against the counter. Sharp pain spikes up my spine.

"Let go," I snarl, but his eyes darken with something cruel and unrelenting.

"You always fight, don't you?" he hisses, a creep smile etched on his lips.  He pins me harder. "That's why I like you. You make it fun."

I twist and thrash, my mind calculating every possible move. My free hand darts to the knife block, and my fingers close around the hilt of a blade. But before I can bring it up, he grips my wrist again, this time slamming it against the counter.

"Fuck you," I say as I desperately reach a weak spot to sink the knife into. He hits it out of my hand.

The knife clatters to the floor.

His weight presses me back against the wall now, and my breath catches as panic claws at my throat. I'm strong, stronger than most, but he's bigger, and he knows how to use it.

He unbuckles his pants, ripping my shirt and pants off, leaving me in just my undergarments.

My head and brain can't seem to function as his once innocent face, framed by cute blond bangs, turns into a wild, psychotic expression.

So I do the only thing I think of.

I bite down on his shoulder, hard enough to taste blood. He roars, his hand cracking across my face. My vision blurs for a second, but I don't stop struggling, even as his fingers dig into my arms like iron shackles.

And then, like a storm breaking over the horizon, the door crashes open.

"Get your hands off her."

A familiar  voice is low and deadly, a promise of violence. Josh spins around, dragging me in front of him like a shield.

Cardan. Oh god, beautiful Cardan.

"You must be the ex-husband," Josh says, his voice dripping with menace and sheer mockery. "You're too late."

Cardan's gaze locks onto me for a split second, his golden eyes searing. And then, with a flick of his wrist, a knife slices through the air.

The blade buries itself in Josh's shoulder, and he stumbles back with a howl, releasing me.

I drop to the floor, my legs trembling but ready to spring.

Cardan moves with a determined, wild grace, crossing the space
between us in seconds.

He grabs Josh by the collar and slams him against the wall, his face a mask of fury.

"Touch her again," Cardan growls, "and you'll lose more than the use of your arm."
Josh tries to bluster, but Cardan twists the knife for emphasis, and the fight drains out of him like water from a broken vase.

"Now get out," Cardan spits, yanking the knife free. Josh stumbles toward the door, clutching his shoulder, his bravado reduced to nothing.

As the door slams shut behind him, the silence is deafening. I sag against the wall, my breaths coming in sharp, shallow bursts.

Cardan kneels in front of me, his expression softening as he brushes a strand of hair from my face. "Jude."

"I had it handled," I say, though my voice cracks on the words.

He smirks faintly, his thumb grazing my cheek where Josh struck me. "Of course you did. But forgive me for wanting to make sure."

I don't have the energy to argue. Instead, I lean into him, letting his steady presence ground me. For a moment, neither of us of us speak. Then, I feel a rush of anger.

Then I look up at him, his black gold eyes, cruel cheekbones, crow black hair, and his soft lips. A tear runs down my cheek.

"Why did you exile me?" I croak.

He looks at me, his arrogant demeanour fading as he looks me squarely in the eye, "Jude Duarte, Queen of Elfhame, my... my wife, you could have come back anytime you liked, you are the crown after all, and to return, you have to be pardoned by the crown."

I let out a giggly, watery groan as I bury my head into his chest, my arms going around him.

He scoops me up, grabbing a blanket from the couch to cover my revealing state of body. He drapes it over me, arm around my waist, and leads me out.

"Let's just go home," he whispers into my ear.