Thursday night when she came to the music room door, she was met by silence. No strum of the guitar to remind her that she had been able to teach the Goblin King something, a fact which continued to amaze her. No tapping at the keys of the grand piano which reflected the moonlight through the French doors. No lost sound of lutes or liars or the whistle of any number of flutes. Sarah, dismal at the prospect of going to sleep with no music still playing in her head, began to climb the grand staircase to the chamber of the king, where she had slept for the last four nights, hoping she would find him there. The soft leather bottoms of the slippers she wore plodded against the marble staircase, echoing in the stillness of her solitude, speaking volumes with no one around to hear or answer. There was a landing sixteen stairs up, where she stopped. The railing bowed out along the oblong edge of landing. Her hands slid along the smooth surface while she stopped to realize just how magnificent this castle was, how magnificent the Underground was. Backside resting against the banister, she focused on a potted orchid which placed on a table in the center of the landing. It was as exquisite as its surroundings. Stepping forward she let a hand reach out to the velvet petals. Lightly she stroked along a pink streak which accented one of the ivory petals.
“Like fine linens don’t you think?” Jareth said huskily in her ear.
Sarah gasped as she jerked to face him. No matter how often he employed this tactic to approach her, it always caught her off guard. Her heart pulsed at the surprise. “I was just looking for you.”
“You’ve found me.”
“I’d say it was you who has found me.”
“So it was. How was this evening’s lesson with Atofina?”
Sarah sighed, “I suppose it went well. I can’t help thinking that there’s more to her than you’re letting on.” She looked him in the eye, noticed the way his lips itched to smile even when he knew he shouldn’t. “Then again, it shouldn’t surprise me. Nothing here should surprise me. There’s a deeper meaning to everything that goes on Underground.”
This time Jareth let the smile curl his lips with no objection, “I think I may have something left that could surprise you.”
Smiling up at him, she wondered what that might be. When his elbow jutted out in the familiar angle with which she had grown accustomed to being led around the castle, she replied, “By all means.”
“Close your eyes,” he whispered huskily, his lips grazing her ear.
As Atofina had taught the mortal, she quickly obeyed the king. When once again she had been given permission to open her eyes they stood just inside the doorway of a bed chamber. There was a king sized oak bed with a muslin canopy and curtains. Sheets as crisp as freshly pressed cotton shirts covered a firm mattress, topped off with a floral duvet thick with down. It was seeing her wardrobe there that finally told Sarah the room was to be hers. A matching vanity table had been made and placed along side the wardrobe. A bureau added and a full length, gold trimmed mirror mounted to the wall. There was a sitting area, sunken into her room. It lacked the majesty of a fireplace, but that didn’t matter much. The furniture was upholstered with a plaid pattern which took in the beige of the muslin, the green from the duvet and the mauve from the drapes which hung over both large windows on the far wall to either side of the bed. An oak table separated the couch from the chair. A matching end table sat between the chair and a rocker. It was a wooden rocker, the seat cushion had been covered in the plaid fabric and the slatted back had a cushion tied over it as well.
“You didn’t need to do all this,” Sarah said, still in shock at what her eyes had seen, “not when I’m only going to be here another five weeks.” Her mind continued, ‘Not when I’d be just as happy to spend those nights with you, in your bed.’
“Mason did most of it,” Jareth told her fighting hard to hold back the disappoint he felt that she had not been more thrilled with the room. “I hope you find it comfortable and adequate enough for your time here.”
“It’s not that I don’t appreciate the effort. In fact, it’s a beautiful room and I’m sure it will be more than adequate for my stay, provided that door leads to a bath even half as luxurious as yours.” In an effort to show her appreciation for all the king had done for her, Sarah scampered toward the door in question.
“Actually,” Jareth began when Sarah opened the door, “that’s the...”
“Jareth?” She looked at him, confusion bending her brow.
“I was going to tell you. I didn’t want you to feel isolated and you’ve been clear about how you feel having servants, so...”
“So, you thought you’d give me an adjoining door to your chambers.” Returning to his side, a smile wide across her face, she asked playfully, “Why do I not think your motives are entirely forthright?”
His lips fell upon her forehead, “If my motives were anything less than forthright, I’d have told Mason to brick up that door,” he pointed to the door through which one entered the chamber from the hall, “after he built that one.”
In that moment, Sarah found herself suddenly reminded that she and Jareth had not shared each other’s more intimate company since they were journeying home from the mountains. In fact, aside from what had become a traditional kiss goodnight there hadn’t been much in the way of physical relationship between them at all. “But I do have a bath, right?” she asked in an effort to distract herself from the realization.
“Of course,” the king moved to a second door and swung it open. Inside everything had been finished in sterile white tile that looked as if it had been scrubbed thoroughly. Gold fixtures adorned the white porcelain. A blue curtain hid the wash sink and the water closet. It was no where near as seductive as the bath in the king’s chamber, but Sarah supposed it shouldn’t have been, after all she was just a guest in the castle.
“What more could a girl ask for?”
“This girl, as you know, may ask for anything she likes and it shall fall from the heavens to land at her feet.” He looked at her seriously, “Is there something you need which I have not provided?”
“No, not at all,” she tried to convey her appreciation without letting too much of the disappointment seep through.
“Well, I’m sure your anxious to test out those linens. I had no idea it had gotten so late, so quickly. I will leave you to your rest.”
Even though Sarah wasn’t the least bit sleepy, she nodded. Her hand fell gently upon his forearm, “Thank you.” The words were low and mild as she spoke them while subliminally she begged him to stay.
Jareth took her hand into his, gloved fingers caressing her bare skin, roaming up the length of her arm, across her shoulder, the side of her neck and finally coming to rest with her jaw settled in her palm. Sarah nestled into his touch. “Goodnight Sarah,” he breathed out in a near sigh.
“Goodnight Jareth,” her eyes were focused on his mouth.
The king’s thumb trailed over her lip, for a second, she just allowed herself to enjoy the feeling of the leather on her mouth, before she pursed her lips and kissed at him. He tried to avoid her affection, keeping his thumb dancing from side to side, but she sought the fleeing appendage until Jareth saw no choice, but to replace it with his mouth. Greedily, he kissed her as she matched his fervor. This was not the kind of kiss which they had settled into sharing when they stayed in the same bed together. Perhaps they’d convinced themselves to be wary when they were so accessible to one another, but now, now that he knew he must walk through the adjoining door and sleep in his huge bed alone with her so close, so warm.
“I really must go,” he said painfully as he pressed his forehead against hers.
“Are you sure?” she asked, her lips finding his chin, working their way down his throat and over the exposed patch of his chest displayed by the painter’s shirts he continuously wore.
“Certain,” he proclaimed weakly as he tried to push her away. Sarah slid down the length of his body, practically kneeling before the king, her hands working at his waist band. Jareth stilled her frantic fingers, “What has Atofina been teaching you?”
“Why would you ask me such a question?”
“Just a question,” his hands lifted her back to standing, her fingers clenched in his gloves. He kissed the back of each hand before giving her a polite bow and taking his leave.
Sarah fell back on the bed the king had built for her, thankful that it was soft.
***** ***** *****
Deverell had spent the week training from sun up until sundown, breaking only for meals. Dalkeil agreed to his request for constant discipline, but only after warning him that there was such an idea as too much of a good thing. The young fey wouldn’t hear of it. He had years of expertise to acquire and in his limited scope, only one way of achieving the goal. What little time he slept was on stacks of hay in the stables. Gribbin offered his bed, but Deverell politely refused. In truth, he was quite content to sleep so near the horses. While the smell wasn’t much, he’d grown accustomed to their whinnying as he drifted to dream. He missed his home and his family; however, the Cleric had chosen him for this and he was proud. That alone would see his mission through until the end. Seeing what transpired in the Underground made him more greatly appreciate the peaceful existence of Burggraaf.
Each night when his heavy head fell down, it was a much earned sleep which eventually overtook him. Dalkeil worked him hard, precisely as the king would have wanted it. Whole days were spent working on one or two moves. The fey was forced to repeat attacks until they became such second nature he could perform them with his eyes closed, which was often asked of him. Deverell told himself time and time again the reward of serving the king would be worth the hard work of training to do so. Among his town’s people he would be looked upon as a hero. Not to mention the Cleric would favor him for doing such a fine job with his assignment.
Friday evening, after dinner, Jareth went into the training room so he might sit in on one of the sessions between his combat master and Deverell. The king agreed the youth had good form, his timing and aggression had improved, as Dalkeil said they had. Overall he was pleased, but he could tell that Deverell was still pulling back on the attack. He snapped his fingers and donned himself in fencing whites to have a go at the younger fey. It had been quite some time since he had practiced. When Jareth took the floor both men broke from the stalemate they were in and bowed to his majesty.
“Your highness, you come dressed and ready?” Dalkeil was surprised. He and the king had gone a few rounds in sport before, but he did not think the king would dare challenge the inexperienced Deverell. Why, with so much to prove, Dalkeil wondered if it was wise for Jareth to subject himself to the boy’s over-zealousness.
“You have no doubt groomed me a worthy opponent.”
“I have tried my best,” Dalkeil admitted with a heavy sigh, still disappointed that his student pulled his punches.
“Well then, En Garde,” Jareth called as he assumed position.
Deverell closed his face mask and matched the king’s stance. His heart was hesitant to put forth his best performance for fear that he would some how injure Jareth. Shortly into the battle, it became obvious he had nothing to worry about. Though the king’s hand had long been void a proper sword, his skill returned as quickly as one recalls their own name. As Jareth countered and retaliated with an attack or two of his own, Deverell pulled out all the stops. Choreographing a series of parries which had them waltzing to and fro across the room. Deverell was possessed with a desire to impress the king. Finally, the young fey was able to pin Jareth against the wall, his sword at the king’s throat.
Breathing heavily, he asked the king, “Do you find me capable of protecting your kingdom and your mortal now your highness?”
Jareth reached down to his side with the hand that did not hold his sword. With an almost unbelievable silence he rose his boot to meet his hand. From it he drew a dagger, the handle of which he jammed into Deverell’s ribs sending him reeling back, grabbing at his side. Closing in on the boy, Jareth warned him, “To have you serve my kingdom would have been a true joy but for the fact that while you wasted your best energy dancing for me, you were too tired and too vain to make the kill. When you paused to gloat,” Jareth spun the dagger in his hand until its serpentine silver blade rose from his grip, “this would have stolen the air from your lungs. I hate to think of the result were I to have had an iron weapon at my availability.” Replacing the dagger in his boot, he was barely winded by the entire exchange. Jareth continued to scowl down at the boy who had yet to find himself standing fully straight. He turned to Dalkeil, “Haven’t you taught this boy anything?”
“It’s taken me this long to get him to attack at length. I thought he should know a sword before we tested his skills with a close range weapon like that,” the combat master defended his decision pointing at the blade in Jareth’s boot.
“That may be. I never expected he would behave so foolishly.”
“I’m still in the room,” Deverell announced when it seemed they’d forgotten.
The king turned on him in a swift movement, “And rather lucky for that I’d say.” Deverell did not speak. “You have much left to learn, I suggest you let your trainer have a bit more say in your lessons. After all, he is the experienced one here.”
“Yes, your grace”
Dalkeil walked with Jareth to the door where he asked the king, “Don’t you think you were a bit rough on him?”
“Rough on him? By showing him that even a fey whose sword might feel like an extension of his own arm can be killed by his own foolishness? No, I don’t particularly think that I was rough on him. In fact, I think I just gave him a lesson in staying alive, one he is not likely to soon forget. Now you try.” With that Jareth stormed out of the training room.
***** ***** *****
Atofina and Sarah both jumped when they heard the door slam. The sitting room where they had been having their lessons was on the same side of the castle as the training room, although not on the same floor. “My, my, my. It seems as if his highness is a bit frustrated today. You wouldn’t know anything about that now, would you?”
The mortal didn’t much care for the way the fey asked the question, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“No sense in getting defensive. I was just making light.”
“Making light?”
“Mortals,” Atofina sighed. “Making light? Having a joke? Being facetious?”
Sarah looked at her with curiosity, “You make light of too much, if you ask me. For someone whose supposed to be teaching me to be a lady, you certainly make more than the occasional suggestive comment.”
“I assure you, I am qualified to teach you, if that’s what your worried about. It was I who taught the first queen of the Underground how to hold her head and wave her hand.”
“It’s not your qualifications I question, rather, I doubt that this is the only talent you possess.”
Atofina’s eyes grew wide, “I see the king has found himself a woman with a brain.” She paced around Sarah, eyeing her up. After making her way tot he door and shutting it securely, she returned to the chaise and took a seat. “If you want the whole story, I suggest you sit down as well.” Sarah wondered why the dramatics, but did as she instructed. “Centuries ago, before the Triumvirate were appointed to rule the realm, there was a high court. When fey needed to appear before the high court or attend the functions of the high court, it was me they called for the instruction. The court managed to keep a certain amount of order, but as the elders grew weary, younger and younger fey sat on the court and corrupted it. When the raids began, the elders who remained in the court appointed the Triumvirate. The three most honorable and respected fey in the kingdom, for whom the court would work to maintain order. When the raids were over, many of the fey who comprised the court had been killed. Those that had survived worked with the Triumvirate to return order to the kingdoms, in doing so they had eliminated their own purpose. The Triumvirate easily oversaw the realm and the court was disbanded. Not wishing to pollute the system with some of the same deviance which soiled the court, the Triumvirate kept very much to themselves. They moved into the mountains. They threw no parties. Criminals were brought to them for punishment and where their presence was needed, it had to be requested. Even then they only appeared for about one in every three requests. When they gave the Underground its first king, Oberon chose a commoner for his bride.”
“The first queen?” Sarah asked.
“Queen Gwendolyn,” Atofina replied and then continued. “Kept me in business, for a time, I even lived in this castle. In the room where Arulan stays now.” Despite her trying to hide the fact, Sarah was a bit jealous at this admission. “The commoners provided a fair clientele for me as well. They all believed that if Gwendolyn, an orphaned servant to a respected family could become queen, then any of them could become queen. They wanted to be prepared. Then it was Corwyn, who had little interest in taking a bride until he mastered being king. Before he had the chance to do either, he was murdered. Darien took over the throne, despite the threat of not knowing who it was attacking the throne. He was quite the Casanova, I admit. The Triumvirate buckled down on him, furious because his behavior was precisely the kind of thing which caused the high court to be disbanded. In no uncertain terms they insisted he marry if he wished to retain the throne. Darien was no fool. He chose a well groomed woman from a known and respected family. My assistance was no longer required, at least not by Queen Arianna.” Though it hadn’t been said directly, Sarah took that to mean that Darien’s lecherous ways were not wholly unfamiliar to her trainer. “When Arianna gave birth to Leanan Sidhe, she gave strict orders to the female help. None of them were to go near her. She alone would see to the children’s needs. Now the Underground had its first natural born queen. She would be bread to someday take a proper husband and so it seemed my services were no longer required.”
“But you must have done something between then and now,” the mortal noted.
“Indeed,” Atofina agreed. “I met a fey who had once held seat in the high court. He’d begun work as a master to several courtesan. The idea had occurred to him that a woman, especially with the skills I acquired could teach dignity and grace, would be highly prized. And so, I began to train the courtesan. The longer I worked with these ladies, the more I realized that I could teach them more than decorum. Woman that I worked with were the most sought after. In the circles courtesans kept I had made quite a name for myself. By then, Jareth had been born and taken the throne. It was naturally assumed that I would reclaim my position at the castle when Jareth finally decided to take a bride. Only he has yet to do that, unless there’s something you need to tell me?”
Sarah ignored her insinuation. “So you arrange for his woman?”
Atofina laughed heartily. “The king has no need for me to arrange for his company. My trips to the castle have been social. The master who recruited me, wished to recruit Jareth as well. Not to work the circles, but to, for lack of a better word, stud the inexperienced woman. After all, the king is Darien’s grandson and Darien’s prowess was no taboo. Leanan Sidhe was a passionate woman. Jareth had inherited both the ability and the passion.”
Suddenly, Sarah felt quite warm, “You speak from experience.”
“Actually,” she propped up on one elbow, bring her knees up more tightly to her stomach and faced the mortal, “I do not. As you might already suspect, I was one of the naive woman whom Darien was able to capture in his bed. Something in me never felt right about having his grandson too. Besides, I think Jareth preferred to remember the way I was before I met the master, as the fey who will train his bride.” Atofina studied Sarah’s face intently waiting for her eyes to give something away. “It could be you if you play your cards right.”
“I’m not here to marry the king. I’m here to rebuild the Labyrinth and then I’ll be going home. You’re here to train me for the ball and then your services will no longer be required, not by me anyway.” She looked away briefly and asked as she met the fey’s eyes once again, “Wouldn’t Jareth do better to marry a royal?”
“How little you know of the king. It is not his way to find what is royal attractive as well. He is very much like his mother that way. He craves what is simple, what is natural and free. Tell me that you haven’t felt it?”
“Excuse me?” Sarah said shocked.
“Jareth’s aura is like a burning coal. His heat can be felt across a crowded room. When those eyes settle on you, every cell in your body is aware of it. Tell me that when he offers you his elbow and you slide your arm through his, tell me that you don’t feel electricity.”
“My feelings for Jareth are none of your concern.”
“Your feelings for whom?” Atofina smiled knowingly. “Listen deary, you’re absolutely right. It’s none of my business, but let me at least give you this bit of advice. If he wants to share your company, do it. Enjoy him while you can, it comes highly recommended, so much as I’ve heard. Have yourself a bit of an affair, a summer fling.”
Despite the fact that Sarah had been just doing just that, she asked anyway, “Don’t you find that the least dishonest?” Perhaps a part of her sought absolution.
“A woman has just as much right to please herself as a man does, doesn’t she?”
“But...”
“That’s the first thing I teach the woman I work with. I could teach you other things, if you want, if you’re worried that you lack the experience to satisfy someone like Jareth.” Sarah remained silent. “Well if you want nothing more from me, we’ve finished our lessons. You’ve done remarkably well. I have no doubt you will excel at the ball.”
“I...I,” Sarah stumbled, “still need to learn how to...dance. I’ve never been much in the way of ballroom dancing.”
Atofina smiled again. “Dancing,” she said with a certain disbelief in her voice, “is a relatively normal activity among the fey. You’ll find that Jareth is an excellent dancer. For the most part you need only let him lead you and you’ll be fine.”
“Perhaps you don’t understand. I don’t even know the basic steps.”
Atofina stood and extended a hand to the mortal. She took the girl into her arms the way Jareth would have. “A simple box step will get you through just about any situation. Start with you left foot. Back. Left. Forward. Right. Back. Left. Forward. Right. Good. Now look in my eyes. Back. Left. Forward. Right.” The fey woman was as relentless as Arulan. “You can move your left hand up the back of his neck if you like. There his long hair can hide your fingertips as they stroke his neck or the sensitive spot just behind his ear.” Sarah’s mouth was agape, but she was listening intently. “Or you can lie your palm flat against his chest, just below the shoulder and allow one finger or your thumb to graze his open chest. You’re right thumb can also stroke his palm as you dance. I guarantee you the king will take notice.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sarah said raising an eyebrow as she excused herself from the fey’s grip.
“I’m sure you will. If you discover that you need anything else from me, have his highness call.”
“Thank you.”
“Yes milady.”
Atofina reached for the cord to summon Arulan, “I’ll see you to the door,” Sarah offered. When the fey had gone, Sarah retired to the music room.
It was far too early in the evening for her to expect to see Jareth there, but that was as she wanted it. Sarah sat at the piano, bathed in the moonlight, her fingers trolling over the keys. Absentmindedly she began to play, over and over again, the same series of notes until the rhythm was imbedded in her mind. Sarah stood on the wooden flooring. She gathered the hem of her peach skirt into her right hand and gave a slight curtsy, “Yes your highness. I’d be delighted.” Her left arm hung around an imaginary shoulder while the right hand held an imaginary glove. “I’m having a simply wonderful evening.” Between each comment, she paused, imagining an answer. “The music is lovely, though not as much as when I listen to you play.” Her thumb stroked gently where Jareth’s left hand would have been. She imagined Jareth’s elegant eyebrow arching above his eye with the enlarged pupil. “Everyone’s been perfectly polite. I’m very much looking forward to visiting the sectors...and to whatever time we’ll be able to spend alone.” Her fingers moved along the spot where his neck would have been. This time she saw his maddening grin, wide and devilish.
***** ***** *****
Having had his fill of Deverell, Jareth left the training room to shower and dress. Outside the music room he stood, concerned with the fact that his heightened fey hearing detected only one voice throughout the conversation. Silently he slid inside, hiding in the shadow where Sarah herself had hid the first time she snuck in while following the entrancing rhythm which beckoned her.
“I’ve always enjoyed our time alone. Haven’t you?” There was a faint giggle, “Your majesty, really you shouldn’t speak that way when we’re in such close company with others.” The whole time she spoke to the air, her feet continued in a simple box pattern which became more and more second nature.
The king transported himself to the piano bench and began to play. It made Sarah jump. “No, please,” the king said as he continued to play, “go on. You were doing so well.”
“Thank you.”
Jareth used his magic to keep the keys pounding out an easy dance rhythm, then he stepped onto the floor with the mortal, sweeping her gracefully into his arms as he said, “Proper dancing requires a proper partner. May I?”
“I’d be delighted.” This time she felt that burning aura, that focused stare, the electricity that Atofina told her about. It went beyond the fact that he danced as lightly as the air blew, it was more ethereal and emanating. As they spun around the floor, Sarah realized that she was no longer watching her feet when she danced. Instead she stared into the eyes of the Goblin King, almost to the point of not seeing the remainder of his facial features, only the two cerulean circles that seemed to see her in a way no one else had. In the onyx black center of his eyes she could see her face. For a moment she thought about the special effect created by mirrors where an image would seemingly go on forever when two mirrors faced each other. Seeing herself in his pupil was very much the same effect. It was almost lulling, until she noticed a different image in his left pupil, the enlarged eye. Her image, but not an image of the present, not an image of what Jareth was seeing. Sarah pulled away from him a bit.
Jareth let her free asking, “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” she lied. “I just thought I saw something.”
“Outside?” Jareth ran to the doors and peered into the night. “What is it you thought you saw?”
“Nothing, really. Nothing. I just have tired eyes and they’re playing tricks on me. I’m sure that’s all it is.” Her reaction was a foolish one, she knew, and her saying she had tired eyes even more foolish, for now the king would demand she rest.
“Are you feeling alright? Perhaps I should see you to bed.”
“I’m fine. I’m not ready for bed. Let’s finish our dance,” she suggested, stepping up to him and holding her arms in position.
Unable, as always, to resist his mortal, Jareth swept her back into his arms. When Sarah glanced at his eyes again, the images were identical. ‘Best I not stare,’ she thought. Her attentions wandered over his face. The tiny lines in the corner of his eyes that bow-tied when he smiled. The thickness of his lips. The design of his eyebrows. And back to his mouth, always his mouth. Whether it were the words he spoke or the kisses he gave, Sarah couldn’t help looking at it as an opening to his soul. She was fascinated by the way his lips moved, mesmerized by the way he spoke, hypnotized by the way he said her name. But when he sang, oh, when he sang it sent her away. The lyrics forming pictures in her head. The entire surface of her skin alive with knowing.
Before she knew what she was doing, she pulled herself toward him. Jareth’s arm slid up her back agreeing to hold her more tightly. Her eyes closed lightly and her head tilted a hair to the left. Even blind, Sarah found his lips. She kissed him tentatively at first, the way one would try to kiss the wind. His response as weak. As they swayed her lips stayed pressed to his. Persistence paid off when the king finally released the hand he’d been holding during their dance, lowered her arm, which quickly found his side and used his newly freed hand to grasp her neck, bracing it as he fiercely returned her affection in a more suitable way. The kiss was hard and yet passionate. Jareth’s tongue dove repeatedly into her mouth tasting her. Sarah let out a small moan, her hands grasping his shoulder and side more tightly. Jareth’s right hand wrenched the fabric of her peach dress, twisting it as he held her to him. She felt her nipples tighten with excitement. It had been a nearly a week since they had been intimate. It occurred to her that Atofina was right about the king’s abilities. They were very nearly addictive. Sarah needed him, if nothing else, she needed him.
When his mouth left hers she sighed. The Goblin King’s lips skimmed her cheek, his tongue flicking over her jaw line as he neared her ear. A jagged tooth nipped at the lobe before his lips fell to either side of her artery applying gently pressure and light suction along her neck. She called his name, her fingers resting in his unruly hair holding him to her throat encouragingly.
A knock at the door, halted them both. They turned, still disheveled and flushed with passion. “Come in,” Jareth called as he tried to smooth his hair.
Arulan curtsied when she entered, “Your grace,” she said lowering her glance to smile at the state of fluster they were both obviously in. “Beg your pardon, but Turgomon has inquiries for tomorrow’s festivities, items he says cannot wait.”
Secretly, Jareth was thankful she had broken up their kiss before he did something he would regret. “I see.” He turned to Sarah, giving a small bow, he said, “Milady, my duties take me away. Thank you for our dance.” Jareth took her hand and kissed the back of it tenderly, his eyes never leaving hers. “Good night.”
Sarah curtsied, “Good night your majesty.”
“Arulan, see that Sarah is escorted to her bed chamber and make certain that she has everything she needs for the ball.”
“Yes your grace,” Arulan smiled.
“What was that going on between the two of you?” she asked in mock anger.
“Nothing. Atofina had given me dancing lessons. Jareth found me practicing alone and thought I should have a go at dancing with a partner. Nothing more.” Sarah straightened her dress in an effort to make the statement seem more believable.
“You don’t owe me any explanations,” Arulan replied. “Now then, to bed with you. Have you tried on your dress for the ball? Does it need altered at all? What about your hair? How will you be wearing your hair?”
“I haven’t tried on the dress and I don’t know how I’ll wear my hair. I’ll have to see the dress first.”
“Mercy me,” Arulan fluttered. “We’ve got no time to waste. Let’s get you upstairs in a hurry and get that gown on you.”
***** ***** *****
Arulan wrestled the massive gown free from the wardrobe. Sarah drew a breath when she saw how beautiful it was. Three quarters of the sleeves were black, tapered to the middle of her forearm where they met with a sweeping silver bell. The neck line scooped low, the bodice, black, sewn with silver thread so that it appeared quilted. It tightened at the waist and rose in a half dozen scallops that caused the skirt to gather. From the gathers it hung to the floor, parted in the front to reveal several silver layers beneath the black satin. “You’re kidding me,” Sarah went running for the gown, holding it to her chest and looking at herself in the mirror.
“You like the gown?”
“Arulan, I love the gown!”
“Well, try it on. What are you waiting for?”
‘A few mice to turn into horses and a pumpkin for a coach,’ she thought as she undid the laces at the back of her dress and slid the magnificent gown over her head. The dress clung to her as if it had been made around her. The choker Jareth had given her earlier in the week switched from a delicate silver chain which had matched the peach dress into the embroidered band it had been when it was draped over the king’s fingers to better suit her current attire. Sarah blinked twice at the transformation, still not used to the magic she was submersed in. “Up I think, my hair, I should wear it up,” her hands held her raven locks over her ears.
Arulan went to the dressing table, opening one of the drawers. She withdrew two silver combs from inside, shut the drawer and returned to Sarah’s side. “The king would be pleased indeed to see you wearing these.”
In the elf’s hands were the wiry silver combs Sarah had worn during their first masquerade when she was just fifteen. Looking at them, she easily recalled the feel of them on her head, weighty but not cumbersome. As her mind trailed on to other events from that day long in her past, Arulan worked the combs into her hair. She looked nearly the same as she had then, though less awkward and immature. “Shoes!” Arulan cried, hurrying back to the wardrobe. “Wait until you see the shoes.”
Matching the silver in her dress, the shoes were open at the toe and slung back over the heal. When she slipped them on the heal was so high, Sarah felt as though she were on pointe, like the ballerina from the music box she’d had. The shoes, the dress, the combs, she felt like dancing. She felt like going back to the music room and twirling and twirling until she was too dizzy to stand.
“Everything’s a perfect fit,” Arulan said gleefully as she watched the mortal.
“It really is,” Sarah smiled.
“Time you take that off, otherwise, I think you might try and sleep in it!” Her laugh was contagious and Sarah joined in.
Even with the dress safely tucked back into the wardrobe, the feeling of wanting to dance stayed with Sarah. Long after Arulan had been dismissed and she had changed into her bed clothes, Sarah still felt herself swaying to every step, Jareth’s magical piano melody playing in her head.
***** ***** *****
“Your majesty, they must be allowed in the castle. They’ve been invited, it’s far too late to change that now. After all they are the former king and queen.” Turgomon went over the list of respondents with Jareth.
“Fine, they may attend, but Darien is to be watched.”
“He is your grandfather,” Turgomon reminded him.
“He is to be watched. Never should he be left alone with the mortal. In fact, but for the presentation, he should not be allowed contact with her at all.”
“Yes, your grace.”
“Why was she invited?” Jareth pointed to one of the names on the list, “Who made out the invitations?”
“My lord, I did.”
“What were you thinking?”
“I took the list from the last festival thrown in the Underground, added and subtracted where there had been birth or death, made certain all the royals had been invited ”
“I cannot watch the mortal all evening. It will be expected that I socialize. If she’s tied to my coat tails all evening the entire Underground will grow suspicious.” The Goblin King said this more to himself than to Turgomon who, despite not being the subject of the king’s statement, agreed wholeheartedly. “Guards! There will be guards to watch her?”
“No your majesty. Again, guards would make her importance rather pronounced. I rather thought that between Deverell and myself, the young lady would be well looked after while you hosted the festivity.”
Eyeing him closely, Jareth mulled the idea over in his head. Turgomon was not wholly untrustworthy, but Deverell seemed to show some interest in the mortal. No sense in arguing, he decided. After all, Jareth could easily handle Deverell. “Agreed.”
“Then your highness, we have only one problem left to remedy.”
“What might that be?”
“The menu, your grace.”
“Turgomon, certainly you don’t mean to entertain me by admitting that you could not plan a menu.”
“Well, sire, it seems the goblins were unable to trap enough hens for each attendant. I was curious how you thought best to handle the situation.”
Jareth sighed a heavy sigh, “Either we don’t throw enough parties here or you are grossly overrated. Spit a pig, roast the hens and have chef make a roast. We’ll dine buffet.”
“Very good your majesty. Precisely what I would have suggested. Would you like to see the decorations before you retire?”
“No, I’m already on second thought I would like to see the hall if it’s ready.”
“Indeed. Follow me.”
Turgomon led him to the ballroom which had been cleaned and polished until the floors shown like glass and the gold fixtures sparkled like stars. Jareth looked around. Though he had used the ballroom a time or two since Sarah’s last visit, it was the recollection of her sweeping across the floor which returned to his mind when he came here. “I trust you are pleased.”
“Indeed. Tell the staff they will be given this Sunday to do as they please,” Jareth paused before adding, “provided everything goes well tomorrow night.”
“They will be most pleased with your generosity, your grace.” Turgomon bowed before taking his leave.
‘If only everyone were so easily pleased,’ the king thought.
***** ***** *****
The music room was quiet when Jareth walked by. Just to be sure, he opened the door and stepped inside. As he expected, no one was there. Disappointed the king sat at the piano bench. He drew a crystal from the air and focused on his mortal. She was tucked into bed, on her side with her eyes closed. The clock chimed eleven as Jareth made the ball vanish. Playing the same song he’d played when they danced, his gloved fingers tapped against the keys. In his minds eye, he saw them waltzing in the moonlight. It dawned on him then that he would always want her, even if he couldn’t let himself love her, he wanted her. Rather than spend the night brooding, he climbed the stairs and retired to his chamber hoping that sleep would claim him with merciful speed.
In his silk pants, Jareth lie atop the duvet staring up at the ceiling. His eyes refused to close and sleep evaded him. Instead, frustration lie beside him and whispered in his ear. When he’d had all he could stand, the king left his bed and in bare feet crossed the cold stone floor to the door that separated him from his mortal. His hand fell against the door. Through the thin silk of his gloves the doorknob felt like ice, but it did nothing to dim the heat of his desire. Giving in to himself, he turned the knob and crossed the threshold into her room. For a moment he just watched her lying there in the dark, wondering what dreams were filling her head. It wasn’t until Sarah rolled over to face the king that he realized she hadn’t been asleep.
“What are you doing watching me sleep?” Sarah asked groggily.
“How’d you know I was here?”
“The mirror,” she admitted. “Now I answered your question. You answer mine.”
“I felt bad about running out on you in the music room earlier.”
Sitting up against the headboard, “You had things to attend to, I understand.”
Though he didn’t let on, he could see her night gown peaking out from under the top of the duvet, red silk and black lace, elegant and sexy. “Even still, it was in bad manners and I apologize.”
“Thank you, your highness.”
Jareth approached her bed, “You know you aren’t required to be so formal with me when we’re alone.”
Even from the other side of a king sized bed he had a way of unnerving her. “I’ll keep that in mind.” His pale chest shone in the dark.
“Speaking of things that have been on my mind,” the king began.
“Yes.”
“You made a suggestion the other day, I believe you called it ‘something to think about’.”
For a moment she wished she’d have been drunk enough to forget what it was she said, but in fact she remembered. “Something to the effect of being tied to your bed posts.”
Jareth shook his head as he crawled across the bed toward her. When he settled against her side, her cool bare arm brushed over his naked back. “I must admit, I’ve missed you this last week.”
“I’ve missed you as well,” Sarah admitted.
Even in the shadows she could see his teeth when he smiled at her. The Goblin King’s grin came closer and closer as he bent to claim her lips with his own. “Jareth?” Sarah called when he broke their kiss.
“Yes,” he replied nipping at her throat.
“Please don’t start something you don’t intend to finish.”
“And if I intend to bring you to a finish again, and again, and again, would I have your permission to continue?”
“By all means,” Sarah said, made breathless by his proposition.
Jareth peeled back the duvet, exposing her full night shirt. It came to rest at her mid-thigh, slit a few inches on either side. He could see that her nipples had already stiffened. When he reached between her legs to stroke her tender folds, he found them wet and ready. Sarah’s body responded to his electric touch by unleashing the anticipation that had steadily built since the kiss in the music room.
In a swift movement that shocked even her, Sarah pushed Jareth back by the shoulders and straddled his midsection. His mouth remained in a smirk of approval, his eyebrows arching in surprise. “I hope you don’t mind,” she asked in mock innocence as she rocked against him.
“Not at all.”
Sarah bent to taste his mouth, her tongue eagerly slipping inside to stroke his. She felt his hands grasp her bottom beneath her night shirt. When her lips left his they wound slowly around to his neck, thoroughly exploring the chasms at his shoulder and the hollow of his throat. Sliding between his legs, she kissed lightly over his chest, flicking her tongue over his nipples until they hardened and then rolling them gently between her teeth. Over his stomach, to the waistband of his sleeping pants she tasted his flesh, placing small kisses here and there. When her small hands slipped beneath the black silk, Jareth hoisted his backside so that she could more easily remove the garment. With the king fully exposed, she marveled at his readiness, still amazed that he allowed her this much control. Her fingernails raked over his thighs as her mouth drew nearer to his manhood. At first she teased him, licking his shaft and flicking her tongue over the head. Sarah took the tip into her mouth and swirled her tongue over the top. At this, the king let out a short moan which grew in length and intensity as she took him fully into her mouth. When he reached her throat, Sarah covered his remaining length with her palm and worked her hand in time with her mouth. A sufficient amount of saliva made the area slippery and Sarah began gently turning her hand as she stroked him up and down. She felt his body tighten.
Not wishing her fun to end so quickly, Sarah let go of his shaft and removed her lips from his readiness. Meeting him eye to eye, she wiped the corners of her upturned mouth with one finger seductively. Rising to her knees she crawled between his thighs and then over them, allowing him to slip easily inside her. Once united, Jareth began to rock his hips against the mortal. “Ah, ah, ah,” she told him wagging a finger side to side in the air. Lowering to meet his mouth, she continued, “I didn’t tell you you could move.”
For reasons he couldn’t explain, her words drove Jareth wild making him wish to throw her to the mattress beneath them and prove to her otherwise, but he would let Sarah have her fun. With slow, purposefully movements she slid across his entire length, lifting her hips until he nearly fell free of her and then lowering herself until their thighs rested against one another.
Gathering the hem of her night shirt in his hands, Jareth asked uncertainly. “May I?” he asked sheepishly.
Raising her arms above her head, Sarah replied, “You may.”
‘God, she’s beautiful,’ Jareth thought as the chemise found its way to the floor. Silk gloves captured her cheeks, pulling her to him for a kiss. She shivered as he caressed her shoulders, finally placing a palm over each breast and kneading her flesh.
“These have got to go,” Sarah said grabbing his left hand, prepared to pluck it off by the fingertips.
“Not the gloves,” Jareth said.
“What’s so special about the damned gloves?”
“You dare to question me?” he asked playfully.
“I do.”
Jareth’s palm opened as if he was expecting someone to hand him something. When his riding crop appeared, Sarah’s mouth hung open, “What’s that for?”
The king grinned wickedly. “This old thing?” he teased as he dragged the cool leather loop over Sarah’s nipples. “I keep it around for a number of reasons,” he purred as the crop’s end ran between her breasts and down her stomach.
“Name three,” Sarah challenged, leaning over him until their lips were nearly touching.
“Swatting flies,” he said smugly.
“That’s one,” Sarah jerked her hips allowing Jareth to feel her stroking folds.
“Knocking things off high shelves.”
“Two,” she repeated the motion.
Jareth closed his eyes, reveling in the sensation. “And thrashing insolent mortals who attempt to remove my gloves while they’re drunk with power.”
Sarah’s eyes went wide when she felt him swat her rump with the crop. Her hand rested on his chest, “It’s no wonder they made you king of the goblins, wielding a crop like that, you couldn’t possible control anything over three feet tall.”
“Foolish girl,” he feigned irritation as he reintroduced his crop to her plump cheek more forcefully.
Her nails dug into his chest and he felt her tighten around his hardness with the blow. Giving her a second to recover, he swatted her again. Sarah’s body produced an identical reaction. By the fourth crack, Jareth was leaving almost no time between strikes. Sarah bounced merrily above him, very close to satisfaction. The king too grew nearer to release, a pleasure he knew he could not allow himself. Using his free hand, he reached between her engorged lips and searched for her swollen clitoris. Rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. He watched her chest flush and her face distort in pleasure. In time with the next blow, Jareth tugged down and lightly pinched the delicate bud he held. Sarah cried his name when the waves of pleasure came. Jareth thrust himself deeply inside her as her muscles spasmed around him.
“Naughty girl,” he told her as she collapsed against his chest, her whole body drenched in perspiration.
“Haven’t I been punished enough?” she asked breathless.
“I am not a kind fey Sarah. You may recall my words...again and again and again.”
‘How does he do it?’ she wondered as he turned her on her back above the duvet.
On his side, pressed against her hip, Jareth produced four crystals that spun just above Sarah’s stomach. She watched on in interest as she caught her breath. Propped up on one elbow, Jareth seemed to be only casually lounging at her side spinning crystals for amusement. When he finally plucked one of the spheres from its orbit, Jareth rolled it over Sarah’s hot skin, up to her left nipple. The crystal was like ice and she hitched a breath in her throat. Letting the orb go, it shot down the length of her arm, changed into a leather strap and bound her to the bed post by the wrist. Sarah gasped.
“This is what you were thinking wasn’t it?” he asked.
“Yes, but, I...I don’t know.” Jareth kissed her tenderly making her forget her hesitation. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Do you trust me enough to know that I wouldn’t hurt you?”
“Yes,” she answered honestly feeling his lips against her throat. “But I don’t know if I can do this.”
Jareth pulled down another of the circling orbs, rolling it across her stomach, over her mound and along her folds before allowing it to roll to her ankle, binding her left foot to another post, “All you have to do is tell me to stop,” he said huskily against her neck.
Sarah was nervous, but she didn’t want him to stop. To show her approval, she moved her right hand to wrap around his firmness.
“Ah, ah, ah,” he mocked. “You had your chance to be in charge.” Pulling down another crystal, he bound this arm as the other had been. The remaining crystal fell to her stomach as lightly as a feather. Jareth directed this orb between her thighs as he had with her right leg, only this time he pressed it between her folds and against her opening. Sarah’s hips rocked against the pressure as Jareth watched her excitement grow. When she was hungry for more he sent the crystal to bind the remaining appendage.
Spread eagle and restrained, the mortal felt incredibly vulnerable. She heard Jareth’s fingers snap above her head just before her eyes were covered by a black sleeping mask. The king heard her draw a breath and give in to the darkness of the mask and the depravity of their game, giggling when she felt the crop tickling her feet. Jareth summoned up a feather and used it to tickle her side and stimulate her breasts. Sarah allowed her body to react with laughter and wanton cries. His mouth covered her breast, his hot tongue bathing her stiff nipple and then blowing over the tight skin to thrill her.
“You enjoy that, do you?” he asked.
“Very much,” she smiled.
He covered the other breast this time suckling at it while flicking his tongue against the nipple. Sarah wriggled beneath him as she felt electricity course from her chest to her crotch. He carefully bit down, not too hard, and listened as Sarah moaned. Though she couldn’t see him moving, she felt cold replace the spot where Jareth had been. Then she felt his breath on her thigh. ‘Good God,’ she thought as she tried to steady her shaking arms.
“Easy love,” the king soothed as he stroked the soft curls that covered her mound. “I’m not going to bite unless, of course, you ask...nicely.” That said, he kissed her folds tenderly before plunging his tongue between them to taste her. Sarah called to him as he lapped at her juices. The king pressed against her opening, sweeping his tongue from side to side as his lips created a gentle suction. Sarah pulled at her arm restraints desperate to fill her hands with his blonde locks. The leather straps snapped her arms back and she grunted her frustration. Jareth continued the torture he had begun, thrilled when Sarah’s hips rocked against him.
“Oh God Jareth. You...your tongue!” she cried.
“What about it?” he asked.
Moaning her displeasure at this break in their contract Sarah begged, “Put your tongue inside me.”
Pleased that she had the gumption to verbalize her desire, he obliged, “As you wish.” The muscle stroked the sides of her canal. Sarah’s shoulders dove into the mattress. Jareth took control of her hips with his strong hands, holding her in position so that he could complete the ferocious assault on her senses. When he felt her growing more moist he slid his tongue to the top of her opening, his mouth stretching to cover her clitoris. At the same time he sucked at her sensitive bud, he stroked her frontal wall. Sarah shook in her restraints as she surrendered to the intense vibrations that quaked within her. As her body stilled Jareth kissed her swollen area allowing her time to come down.
Sarah sensed him move again. A minute later, fearful that he might have left her tied this way, she called out, “Don’t you dare leave me this way.”
“Are you dissatisfied?” he asked from somewhere to her left.
“No, not at all. I mean tied like this. Don’t leave this room without untying me.” She heard metal meet wood.
“Gone and back already I’m afraid.”
“How?”
“Open your mouth.”
“What?”
“Not to talk. Just open you mouth.”
Sarah did as she was told. Jareth took a strawberry from the tray he’d brought back and dipped it into a dish of chocolate sauce. He set the berry on her tongue and whispered, “Bite.”
Without objection, Sarah followed her king’s instruction. Chewing the fruit she hummed her recognition, “Hmmmm, chocolate covered strawberries.”
This time the Goblin King plucked a cherry from a bowl and drug it through a cloud of whipped cream. “Open,” he waited for her to do as he said. “Close your lips and pull.” The slight jerk in her eyebrows did not go entirely unnoticed. Cream bubbled over her lips as she followed his instructions a second time. Before she could finish chewing, Jareth’s mouth covered hers, his teeth tugging at her lip as she pulled away.
“Hmmmm, I like that one best,” she purred.
“The cherry?” he inquired, busily preparing another.
“No. You.”
“I see. Well what can we do about that?” He dotted her lips with cream, kissing it away. Sarah shrieked when he began placing dollops along her body, but then laughed devilishly when she realized what was to follow. Jareth followed along the trail he’d made clearing her sweet tender flesh of the whipped cream. With the task complete, he turned his attention to her parted lips, kissing her thoroughly as positioned his stiff member between her folds. Grinding against her, he helped to spread around her natural lubricant making her slick and eager. As Sarah fought her restraints once more he buried himself inside her, thrusting slow and deep. Pressing herself to him she begged for him to remove the blindfold.
Against his better judgment, he complied with her wishes. It would make things more difficult later, for him anyway, but he always did have trouble denying her the smallest things. She looked deeply at him. “I’m sorry if I said anything that was out of line.”
“Sarah, nonsense. I’m glad you could feel so comfortable with me.”
“Do you feel comfortable with me Jareth?”
“You know this may not be the most appropriate time to have this discussion.” Sarah’s eyes began to tear. “More so than with most. That’s all I can offer you.”
“From you it’s enough.” Her mouth captured his and she kissed him deeply out of understanding. Jareth broke their kiss for fear of losing more of himself to her. His movements became faster, harder more needy. Sarah was close to finding her release yet again. Jareth held her closer to him enthralled at the way she tossed back her head and cried out his name. He felt her tighten and then relax as her orgasm came. Before the spasms could end, Jareth withdrew from inside his mortal, trying desperately to keep hidden the fact that he had not found the satisfaction she had. He undid her bindings and Sarah tossed her arms around the king. She held him tightly to her, covering his neck in kisses of appreciation. Her body pressed against him grew to be too much. Jareth donned a black silk robe before he hoisted her into his arms. Using his magic he pulled back the corner of the duvet and set her on the sheets. Before placing a goodnight kiss on his forehead, he tucked her in.
“Time for you to rest. Tomorrow will be a big day for you.”
Sarah smiled and nodded at him. “Goodnight Jareth.”
“Goodnight milady.” Giving a gentle bow, he returned through the door to his quarters.
Back in his bed, Jareth stared at the ceiling. He couldn’t keep this up. Despite what he promised himself he had to let her know that this was more than sex to him. At least he wanted it to be more than sex.
***** ***** *****