Book Society’s Literary Yearbook Awards (voted by our followers):
Biggest Drama Queen → Cardan Greenbriar
The disturbing thing about Cardan is how well he plays the fool to disguise his own cleverness.
@tfotadaily tournament three ✧ relationships
kissing locke never felt the way that kissing cardan does, like taking a dare to run over knives, like an adrenaline strike of lightning, like the moment when you’ve swum too far out in the sea and there is no going back, only cold black water closing over your head.
Jude Duarte and Cardan Greenbriar
“Have I told you how hideous you look tonight?” Cardan asks, leaning back in the elaborately carved chair, the warmth of his words turning the question into something like a compliment.
“No” I say, glad to be annoyed back into the present. “Tell me.”
“I can’t.”
I think this piece rounds off my Wicked King recovery nicely. There is so much juxtaposition in the sequel compared to the Cruel Prince, and this one was the most literal.
Cardan on puppet strings is a very common motif among his fanart - but Holly LITERALLY made Jude a puppet on strings in the sequel that the comparison had to be made! The fact that they were both tied down due to polarizing forces offered us readers what will be the most excruciating catch-22 of 2019.
(I found it hilarious Jude being so self conscious about her dress for Taryn’s wedding - I made it suuuuuper low cut)
The Cruel Prince by Holly Black was very good and Prince Cardan is my new problematic fave.
If you love dickbag princes and hate/hate relationships built on the characters constantly out power-moving each other Iād recommend it!
This is what you wanted, isn’t it?
What you sacrificed everything for.
Go on. It’s all yours.
make me choose: anya x dimitri or jude x cardan (for @evies20dollars / @hazy-siren)
“Tell me again what you said at the revel,” he says, climbing over me, his body against mine.
“What?” I can barely think.
“That you hate me,” he says, his voice hoarse. “Tell me that you hate me.”
“I hate you,” I say, the words coming out like a caress. I say it again, over and over. A litany. An enchantment. A ward against what I really feel. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.” He kisses me harder. “I hate you,” I breathe into his mouth. “I hate you so much that sometimes I can’t think of a n y t h i n g e l s e.”
“That’s what mortal means,“ I say with a sigh that I don’t have to fake. "We die. Think of us like shooting stars, brief but bright.”
@folkoftheair asked: tid or tfota?
Lord Roiben sinks to one knee, as he promised. “My k i n g,” he says. I wonder what that promise will cost. I wonder what he will ask us for, now that he has helped give Cardan a crown.
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