Even though the audience did figure out Cardan's riddle, what hurts is a motive behind why Cardan exiled Jude.
He was fucking trying to impress her.
Like dude. My man. There are so many OTHER ways you could have impressed her.
“When I came here, pretending to be Taryn, you said you’d sent me messages,” I say. “You seemed surprised I hadn’t gotten any. What was in them?”
Cardan turns to me, hands clasped behind his back. “Pleading, mostly. Beseeching you to come back. Several indiscreet promises.” He’s wearing that mocking smile, the one he says comes from nervousness.
I close my eyes against frustration great enough to make me scream. “Stop playing games,” I say. “You sent me into exile.”
“Yes,” he says. “That. I can’t stop thinking about what you said to me, before Madoc took you. About it being a trick. You meant marrying you, making you queen, sending you to the mortal world, all of it, didn’t you?”
I fold my arms across my chest protectively. “Of course it was a trick. Wasn’t that what you said in return?”
“But that’s what you do,” Cardan says. “You trick people. Nicasia, Madoc, Balekin, Orlagh. Me. I thought you’d admire me a little for it, that I could trick you. I thought you’d be angry, of course, but not quite like this.”
I stare at him, openmouthed. “What?”
“Let me remind you that I didn’t know you’d murdered my brother, the ambassador to the Undersea, until that very morning,” he says. “My plans were made in haste. And perhaps I was a little annoyed. I thought it would pacify Queen Orlagh, at least until all promises were finalized in the treaty. By the time you guessed the answer, the negotiations would be over. Think of it: I exile Jude Duarte to the mortal world. Until and unless she is pardoned by the crown.” He pauses. “Pardoned by the crown. Meaning by the King of Faerie. Or its queen. You could have returned anytime you wanted.”
Oh.
Oh.
Like I get it. You wanted to impress her with something you picked up from her on being sneaky and thought she would love it.
It's like Cardan is this dopey doggo who went to fetch someone's bumper instead of the stick that was thrown but drags it all the way back to their owner, almost sideswiping them with said bumper, drops it on their foot but looks insanely proud of it when all is said and done.
It doesn't change the fact that a) someone is missing a bumper and b) Jude's foot would be swollen.
Every time I reread this passage I’m either a little sad, in love, or completely frustrated. It's a mix of wholesome, two idiots in love, and did not think this through that I can't even.
