Through the adjoining door came the king, as quickly as his feet had ever moved him before. His servant did not cry out for no reason, let alone the kind of howl she had just unleashed. “What is it?”
“She won’t wake up.” By then Arulan had begun to shake with fear.
“Calm yourself woman.” The king redirected his attention to the mortal in the bed. “Sarah. Sarah, you need to get up now, Arulan has brought you breakfast.” She didn’t move, not a bat of the eyelashes, not a twitch of the nose. His gloved hands held her face, Jareth’s thumbs pulled back her eyelids. Nothing but white stared back at him. He cursed himself for not better observing her last night when he was still angry at what she had done. Tiberon had told him she was tired and weak. Whatever he had forced her to do probably put her in harm’s way. “Call for the healer.”
“Jareth, what’s happening?”
“Call for the healer.” When he turned his eyes on her, Arulan could see the glassy shimmer of tears resting in his eyes.
***** ***** *****
Jareth sat in his office with Deverell going over the week’s happenings, waiting for Arulan to tell him the healer had arrived. “So as you can see your grace, little actually transpired this week, but there are a stack of requests from the goblins which need your signature.”
“Give them whatever they want,” Jareth waved his hand.
“Do you really think that’s wise your grace?”
For a long time the king did not reply. He certainly didn’t feel wise. He didn’t feel like he was in a position to make any decision, not even the simplest. Everything Hoggle had warned him about had come to pass. Jareth had failed to tell Sarah she still held his heart and Tiberon used it to his advantage. Losing his kingdom was devastating in a physical, visual sense. Losing his mortal was worse on a personal level. Yet for the first time since he had been made aware of her existence he hated her. Hated the thought of having to take her from Tiberon’s bed. Hated the thought that his Representative had seen her at her most raw, her most vulnerable. Jareth was an educated man, well aware that his mortal did not return to him an unclaimed beauty. He believed in his heart that when she returned to New York she would know men since him, but how he had prayed that he would be her only one in this world. For a time he even let himself believe that she would want that too.
“Deverell,” he asked, “do you think yourself a reasonable man?”
“Your grace?”
“Do you believe yourself to be a man of reason, a man capable of determining what should be done based on the good of a whole and not some wayward emotion toward one or a few?”
“Aye.”
The edge of the riding crop slid the stack of requests in the direction of his assistant, “Then I trust that you will be able to make good decisions where these are concerned.”
“Your grace?”
“Perhaps when the healer gets here, I should have him take a look at your hearing. Deverell, I’m tired. Having a mortal in my world has been more exhausting than I imagined. The Cleric has sent me a smart boy, you may not be much with a sword, but you are a smart boy. When this started I told you I would expect you to handle all things trivial while I am otherwise occupied, I intend to keep my word. Goblins are a greedy sort. I’m sure they’ve asked for everything under the sun in those letters and have probably sworn that I would approve, if I weren’t so busy, like rampant children whose parents are vacationing and have left them with an aunt. I expect you’ll look beyond that and make good, solid, educated decisions. Just don’t make it seem too much like this kingdom could survive without me.”
“Yes your grace,” the king’s words filled him with a confidence he had as of yet to show. The display reaffirmed for Jareth he had made the right decision.
“Well then, my work here is done.” He left the young fey to the business he had given him and wandered the halls like a lost child until he came by the music room. Suddenly he knew where it was he felt he had to be. This room had been a special place for both of them in her early days at the castle. At the piano his fingers caressed the keys, unknowingly he’d begun to play the song they danced to the night before the ball. What a night it had been. If ever he had felt like he could have given himself away, it was seeing how she had trusted him. Soon his normally gentle hands pounded off the keys. Why would she give that kind of trust to Tiberon? How could she want him to thrill her the way Jareth had taken such pride in doing? He had a number of questions to ask her when she awoke.
It was well into the afternoon by the time the healer arrived. While Sarah had tossed and turned a little she had not yet become fully awake. Arulan sent for Jareth. He burst through the chamber doors in the middle of the healer’s examination.
“You’re majesty, how nice of you to join us.” The healer packed away a few of his instruments and turned to inquire of the king, “Has she been using magic?”
“Some I suppose. Only what has been necessary to perform the repairs requested by the Representatives of the eastern sectors.”
“Complicated spells?”
“Not that I am aware.”
“Doesn’t matter. If I had to guess, and obviously I have to, she’s not yet used to magic, probably hasn’t used it before she wound up here. I’m sure she just didn’t realize how much it would drain her.”
Remembering this morning and the way Sarah’s eyes had rolled back in her head, Jareth looked again. This time he was met by two soft green pools searching blankly for something to see. “Is there any evidence that she’s been,” Jareth struggled to complete his thought.
“Drugged?” the healer asked. “Nothing obvious, but if you’re aware of something I should be looking for, it would be important to her treatment that you tell me.”
The king argued with himself, swearing the girl would need to be drugged to concede to taking up space in that mongrel’s bed. For a minute, he even entertained the idea of having his healer examine the girl for signs of having been forced upon, but instead he weakly grumbled, “No, nothing that I am aware of.”
“Okay then, the prognosis is good. Let her sleep until she wakes up on her own. If you notice anything peculiar, you know how to reach me.”
“Thank you,” Arulan told him. Jareth remained silent. Turning to his majesty, she asked, “Would you like for me to arrange it so that someone is here in the event the mortal wakes up?”
Jareth’s eyes were cold upon her, “In the event?”
“Goodness me, I’m sorry. When…when she wakes up. I don’t know where my head is.”
“No Arulan, that won’t be necessary. This happened while we were away, if she rises true to form, she’ll come down for food. We’ll notice her then. Just let her rest.”
“Jareth, your not telling me something,” he looked at her in blatant admission of his guilt and yet his eyes begged to understand how she had come to know him so well. “We’ve spent too many years together for you to try and get away without me knowing,” she said as if she had read his
mind.
“Not here Arulan. Come join me in a sitting room and we’ll talk.” Never before had it been so easy to convince him to share things with her. She knew immediately whatever weighed on his mind was heavy. Opening a door to one of the upstairs sitting rooms, Jareth allowed Arulan passed. She took a seat in a wing back chair near the window. Jareth joined her in a matching chair opposite a table painted as a chessboard. A small drawer along the side contained all of the pieces for a game, but this was no game. “You know that I returned to the castle for some time
yesterday.”
“I was informed.”
“Yes, well Tiberon requested the mortal join him alone for dinner and then accompany him into the forest to cast a spell upon a flower bed he was having trouble getting to bloom. I managed to talk him out of doing things in that order so I could retrieve Sarah by nightfall thinking this would keep her safe.”
Arulan attempted to sum things up, “But he pushed her to the point of exhaustion and now you feel responsible?”
“No, I’m afraid it’s far worse than that.” Jareth pulled back the heavy curtains with his finger. Looking out he saw how grey and dreary the day had become. Fitting for his mood. “When I returned to the castle for Sarah, Tiberon met me at the door in a robe. His staff had been dismissed for the evening and his appearance was disheveled.” He paused again, hoping the elf would put the rest together. “The Representative told me Sarah was sleeping.” Still no help. “I found her naked in his bed, in much the same condition she is now.”
“You don’t think that she would…I mean unless he…but even he couldn’t be that…”
“I hope not, that’s exactly what I think and yes he could ” Jareth shouted putting an end to her string of unfinished questions. “Of course there is always the possibility that she went with him
willingly.”
“Oh I don’t believe that for an instant.”
“She’s very attracted, physically, to our kind.”
“How do you know?” He looked at her, his face saying it all, “Oh, you haven’t.”
“In the technical sense no, but suffice it to say that we’ve gotten rather adept at pleasing one another. There’s no reason why she couldn’t have found the same attraction with Tiberon, in fact his being Lytegian would only lead me to believe her attraction would be stronger.”
‘No,’ Arulan thought. ‘No because she loves you, she must.’ “I’m rather at a loss for words at this supposition of yours Jareth. How can you think Sarah would do such a thing?”
“Shy of her admitting it I cannot. But even if she were to admit it, what am I to do? I have no claim to her. She is a free spirit, as easily roped as the wind. Her stay here is only a few weeks more, beyond that I have no control over her.”
“Then you’ve got to tell her.”
“Tell her what, that I love her, that my world is nothing without her in it and that all she is doing here will be forgotten within a week of her leaving, for my heart will crumble all the same as it did fifteen years ago.” His falling head caught in his palms, “Why bother?”
Arulan thought a moment. Sarah was a beautiful girl, probably been told a hundred times that she was loved and given her past, probably had a hard time believing what she heard, “You must do more than tell her. You must show her.”
“Are you daft?” he asked sincerely.
“Jareth, a woman is a creature more filled with doubt than even your sensitive soul can comprehend. As afraid as you might be that she doesn’t return these feelings for you, she is doubly afraid that you don’t have them to begin with.”
“Her not returning my feelings means my death,” the king tried to reason.
“Doesn’t matter. It means her heart. A woman will give away many things before handing a man her heart to treat as a play thing, hence your…shall we say, adventures…up until now.”
“You’re suggesting I court her?”
“Court her without her knowing. Do things with her, plan things for her, give her no choice but to admit her feelings for you.” A huge smile had plastered itself on Arulan’s pale and perfect face.
“How can you be sure she has these feelings to admit to?”
“I too am a woman Jareth. I know, trust me.” She stood and pulled him to his feet. “There’s a fairy ring in the glen this coming full moon. I’ll check my calendar but I believe that to be this Thursday’s eve. You’ll take the girl. I’ll make all the arrangements, you just need to ask Sarah.”
Arulan was off like a shot. “Is that all,” he grumbled.
Jareth wandered out of the sitting room and headed back towards the main hall. He would sit in the dining room and wait for Sarah to wake up. Just as he hit the top of the stairs, a determined dwarf with a face of rage came stomping up the marble steps toward him shouting, “Don’t care what he’s doin’, I’m goin’ to talk to him right now ”
“And by him, I assume you mean me,” Jareth said coolly.
“Darn right. Where’s Sarah? You never came home with her last night. I’ve waited all day to hear word from you and you can bet I’m not goin’ home without knowin’ whattya done with the girl” His backside jutted out as he leaned forward in a pathetic effort to intimidate Jareth who only grabbed him by the ear and dragged him back into the sitting room.
“What are you thinking coming in here carrying on that way about the private matters of this castle?”
“I don’t care. When it comes to my Sarah I got no pride.”
“Your Sarah is asleep in her room, exhausted from having used magic again yesterday to set right the list of things Tiberon had wrong in his sector. Are you satisfied?”
“No,” he said indignantly. “You brought her home to us the first night when she was weak, but last night you bring her here. Somethin’ more to it Jareth, somethin’ more than what your sayin’.”
‘Where did all this sudden perceptiveness come from?’ he thought. Shutting the door and making certain it was locked, Jareth told him all he had told Arulan.
“So whattya gonna do ‘bout it?”
“What am I going to do about it? Who says I’ve got anything to do about it?”
“You love her, I know you do. What’s more, the Triumvirate made you responsible for her. You’ve got to keep him away from her.”
“I’ve consulted with Arulan and she feels I should attempt to woo the mortal.”
Hoggle’s head hung, “She’s in danger. The Supreme One only knows what Tiberon’s capable of, and your leavin’ it up to a test of who can woo who?”
“Refusing to allow her near him only makes her seek him out more. What other choice have I got?”
“Have you thought about tyin’ her up?” Jareth smirked, “Never mind, it’s obvious we don’t mean that the same way. Do what you can. If I can help then let me know, but I swear if she gets hurt, I’ll…”
“You won’t have to. I’ll have already done it myself.” Hoggle extended a hand to Jareth which the king took and shook firmly. They had a deal. Something in the king felt an obligation to do something he had never asked of any parent or guardian before, “Hoggle,” he called to the dwarf as his stout legs carried him toward the exit. “I’ll only do this with your permission.” He eyed the king suspiciously, “May I have your permission to court your…Sarah?” His intent clear as rain this time.
“You may.” Outside the door Hoggle leaned against the wall, “Sarah,” he said, “What have you done to him?”
***** ***** *****
In the Southeast, Tiberon and Maeve were only just dragging themselves out of bed. Tiberon fixed them something to eat and they sat at the dining table discussing what their next steps would be. “When I finish with him Maeve, darling, he’ll no longer be king. Why will you want him then?”
“You said it yourself last night. I want him because I refuse to see him want anyone but me. I was the best he’d ever had, the only woman he’d ever proposed marriage to and he was over me the minute I had my little tete a tete with Emanon. But this girl, this mortal, shatters his kingdom, runs off, returns fifteen years later and it’s her he cannot live without. Unacceptable.”
“Letting things get personal I see,” Tiberon teased her lips with some fruit which she snapped off his fork her teeth grating along the tines.
“Don’t I always? So you’ve made it seem as though you’ve had his mortal, now what?”
“Now, I let him stew. I use the lovely powders you’ve given me to continue to enchant the girl. Each time she’s with me she’ll fall into a peaceful sleep, and when she awakes, she’ll have no idea what we’ve done or not done for that matter. Each time she leaves she’ll have a strong inclination to return, but no clue why that inclination is there. Eventually she’ll mistake those twisted emotions for love and Sarah Williams will be mine. The king will be devastated. That my darling is when you begin to visit the castle, reclaiming your rightful position at his side. With an insider at the castle, I’ll know just when to bring out my secret weapon.”
“Ooh, that sounds particularly dangerous,” she purred leaning across the corner of the table to lay a hand on his thigh. “Tell me about it.”
“I’ll show you if you want to see.”
“Maeve want, oh yes, Maeve want.” Leave it to her. Few fey could match her ability to make even the most mundane thing into something titillating. Few words could fall from her lips without dripping sensuality.
Down the hall they walked arm in arm to a room Tiberon had failed to show Sarah when she was visiting. He opened the door slowly, “Good day your majesty. I hope you’re not too put out, but I’ve brought you a visitor.”
Maeve stood in wonder. He was the spitting image of Jareth right down to his boots only he wore all black, his hair black, his eyes like coal. “Charmed I’m sure,” she said extending her hand, palm parallel to the ground.
“Such formality,” he replied. The Shadow King took her hand and pulled the red head to him in a tight embrace. “Good to see you again Maeve.” His lips fell upon her in a powerful kiss, for a moment she resisted, but just a moment. Then she gave into him as her arms rested on his back, her lips parting to accommodate his probing tongue. After a minute or so he let her free, grinning wickedly at the flush he had managed to spread over her cheeks. “I see you haven’t forgotten me.”
“How did you do this?” she asked Tiberon as she stalked around the Shadow King. “He’s amazingly life-like.” Her finger trolled over his shoulder, “I should like to borrow him for the
night.”
The men laughed heartily. “I didn’t do this Maeve. The Shadow King is real. You see when Jareth went into the Labyrinth attempting to reclaim his magic from the girl, he lost track of his shadow. As luck would have it he’s grown rather soft since then. A fey’s spirit can be a restless thing and so the shadow lurked collecting his hostility as he allowed it to shed, gathering all that was evil that Jareth let sloth off. Until he was powerful enough to evolve into the being you see before you now. Jareth through and through but comprised of only the mean and evil bits, all the wonderful pieces. He wants the Labyrinth back too. So I’ve agreed to let him stay with me until the time is right. He’s promised to help us get what we want.”
Maeve was still affixed to the Shadow King, taken in by his majesty and stature. “So physically, he’s just like the king?”
“In every way,” the Shadow King's tongue slipped over his teeth.
“I see,” she focused her attention to the crotch of his black tights and cursed the color for it’s concealing effects.
“Not yet, love, but it can be arranged.”
Tiberon bowed out gracefully, “I’ll leave you two to become better acquainted.”
***** ***** ******
Stumbling into the kitchen, Sarah hadn’t even bothered to get dressed. She still wore her nightgown and robe, the one Arulan had dressed her in. Her hair had yet to be brushed and her face hung as if her chin weighed twenty pounds. “Miss,” said one of the elves, “You look fearfully unwell, can I get something for you?”
“Just some toast,” she said weakly. “I’m not very hungry, and I’m queasy.”
“Yes mum,” she said. Moments later she returned with the toast and a hot cup of tea.
Sarah sat in the dining room hovered over the pathetic meal. If she hadn’t known better she would have sworn that she’d drunk far more than two glasses of wine last night. Head throbbing and upset stomach, the two worst features of a hangover. Having been alerted by his servant, Jareth joined her in the dining hall. “The cook tells me your not feeling well.” Sarah only shook her head confirming that he had been informed appropriately. “What’s the matter?”
“Queasy.”
“I had my healer take a look at you this morning. He said you were exhausted from performing magic Sarah. What all did Tiberon have you do last night?”
She shrugged. “Not much really. We went for a walk and he showed me the flower bed. I cast a spell and it made me very weak. So, he helped me to the castle and I lied down in the bed he had made for me, before he knew we’d be staying at Hoggle’s. I fell asleep and had the strangest dream. I don’t much remember it now. Then when Tiberon woke me for dinner I joined him. We ate. I had two lousy glasses of wine and don’t remember anything, but waking up in my bed this morning. I’m assuming you brought me home.”
“I did.”
“I don’t remember it Jareth. None of it. Just the spell, I had to use more than one element which I’ve never tried before, but I did it. The flowers, they were beautiful.” She sipped her tea to wash down the few bites of dry toast she’d taken while they talked. “But it must have wiped me out because I don’t remember much afterward.”
‘Probably, the way he wanted it,’ Jareth thought. “So you think this is a hangover?”
“It must be. I don’t feel like I did when we went back to Hoggle’s the first night. When I woke up from that I was well rested and starving. To be quite honest I can’t even stand the sight of this toast, but I’ve got to get something to settle my stomach,” she paused, “otherwise…” Sarah fled the room in search of the downstairs water closet. Jareth followed her to the door. From the hall he could hear her vomiting.
“Sarah,” he called, “Can I get you something?”
“Jareth go away. I feel awful and if I look anything like I feel I don’t want to be seen.”
The king remained by the door until he heard her torrents end. Then he swung the door open gently. Sarah was slumped on the floor. Even ill, he couldn’t resist her. His arms folded around her weak body as he lifted her off the cold floor. Up the stairs and down the hall they went to her room, Sarah grumbling the entire way, short incoherent words. Already peeled back, the duvet was ready to welcome her. Jareth set her on the mattress, removing her robe as he did so and covered her with the thick warm blanket. “What’s wrong with me?” she whispered.
“Just rest.” She gave him no argument. He looked at her for a long moment, concern and worry in his brow.
Arulan was in the doorway when he turned to leave, the same elf having alerted her of Sarah’s condition as well. “What happened?”
“She’s hung over.”
“Hung over?”
“Apparently she had some wine with dinner last night and that in combination with the magic has made her ill.”
“How much wine?”
“What’s it matter?”
“How much wine?” she asked again.
Jareth pulled the door shut behind them. “Two glasses.”
“That’s not enough to make her this sick. Not even put together with magic. Look at what you can toss down in a day.”
His eyebrow arced at her insinuation, “I’ve had a few centuries to practice.”
“Mortals sometimes get ill when they’re…when they become…pregnant. It’s called morning sickness.”
If ever the king looked defeated. Slowly he said, “If, and I mean if, she’s pregnant, it’s not by more than a day. Bit early for this morning sickness isn’t it?”
“Well it’s about as good as your hangover theory.”
“Get the healer back here. He’ll know if she’s pregnant.”
“Aye your grace.”
***** ***** *****
Night crawled through the open window of Sarah’s chamber by the time the healer returned. Jareth was propped up in a chair waiting on him. “I’m against this Jareth. It’s none of your business if she’s with child, unless it’s yours?”
“It isn’t and if she is with child, she needs to return Aboveground immediately before the baby has a chance to get used to our immortal atmosphere; otherwise, we’d have to send her home without the child. Now do as I have asked you to do.”
The hands of the healer covered Sarah’s stomach just above her womb. His touch caused her to wake. She gasped at the sight of him, for she had never laid eyes on him before. Gently, the healer explained who he was, “I’m just here to check your tummy. The king tells me that you’re not feeling well.”
“It’s just a hangover,” she explained.
“I see, well let me decide that, all right?”
Jareth appeared at her bedside, “Let the doctor do what he needs to do Sarah.”
“I’m just going to press on your tummy, you’ll feel some warmth, that’s just magic. I’m taking a look inside your stomach.” He continued with his description of his procedures. It was a comfort for Sarah who felt odd having this man examine her, but obviously it wasn’t the first time. “Good, very good. Well it would appear as though you have nothing more than an upset stomach. Something you ingested isn’t agreeing with you at all. I’m going to make you up something to drink that will fix that by morning.”
The healer headed for Jareth’s bath to work his magic. The king followed him. “So she’s not…”
“Pregnant? Heavens no. It’s as I told her out there. Something she’s ingested has upset her stomach. By tomorrow she’ll be up and about and eating more for breakfast than you,” the healer laughed. Jareth sighed with relief. “Take her this and make her finish it. No sooner than it hits her stomach it will coat the lining and her queasiness should end. She’ll have no more vomiting and she should be good as new.” He emerged from the bath, the king in tow. “Well milady, I really do wish we would meet under better circumstances, but nevertheless, it has been a pleasure to serve you. The king has your medication. I wish you well.”
“Thank you,” Sarah smiled.
“Ah, here,” Jareth stumbled as he handed her the drink.
“I really don’t feel like taking a chance on throwing up again.”
“The doctor said this will stop that.” She looked at him hesitantly, her eyes asking, ‘Are you sure?’ “I’m sure,” he said.
“Mmmm. This tastes like a strawberry milkshake. You want some?” she asked thrusting the glass under his nose.
“No, no, the doctor said you needed it all.” She polished off the drink with no further argument. “Back to bed with you now.” Jareth took the empty glass, placed it on the nightstand and tucked her in.
“You take such good care of me,” she smiled up at him.
“I try to,” he told her. “Get some sleep. You’ll need plenty of rest if you’re to exercise those jaws at the breakfast table tomorrow.”
“Why’s that?”
“Your appetite should return in full force by morning.”
“Good. I know there’s nothing left in there,” Sarah quipped as she patted her belly. Her look quickly changed to embarrassment. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that?”
“You were ill.”
“I know, but I thought I was hung over. I felt like a fool what with me acting like a drunken teenager slung over the toilet, bargaining with God that I would do glorious things in his name if he would only slow the earth’s rotation.” Jareth smiled. “I just don’t understand why I don’t remember so much if it wasn’t the alcohol making me sick.”
“Exhaustion can do tricky things. Best not worry about it now,” he blew out the candles on her bedside table.
“Do you have to go?” she asked.
“You need to rest and I have things to do,” he lied. “But I was wondering,” his foolish mouth searched for words, “would you mind joining me,” putting the invitation off for one more day, “in my office after breakfast tomorrow? Just to let me know you’re all right.”
“You could just come up to check on me.”
“I’d rather you come to the office, we could discuss the plans for next week’s visits.”
Sarah had forgotten there were more sectors waiting for her to heal. “That’s right. Have it your way, the office it is.” A huge yawn could be heard in the shadow.
“Good night Sarah.” Before she could respond she had fallen asleep.
***** ***** *****
Jareth hadn’t courted a woman since Maeve and she was not apt to swoon at the things a normal woman was apt to swoon at. In fact, if anything, Jareth might have had to admit that she did more of the courting than him. She certainly sped up the process faster than he would have. Maeve was a very sexual creature, ritual courtship was not her style, patience not her strong suit. He consulted with Arulan, who gently reminded him of the basics. Dressing nicely, which he always did. Speaking kindly, which he sometimes needed to be reminded to do. And of course, pursuing slowly and not being too overbearing, which drove him insane. So he rose, bathed and donned his grey tights, a grey shirt with cravat, his grey gloves and black leather vest. Slid his long legs into his black leather boots and donned his favorite frock coat, the one with the amethyst highlights. To help incorporate the jacket more he streaked a few of his blonde locks a deep purple.
In his office he sat practicing. How was best to ask the mortal to accompany him? Sarah, I would like you to go with me to a fairy ring on Thursday evening. No that was a command. Sarah, would you like to go with me to a fairy ring? No, too much room for her to decide against joining him. Sarah, it would please me very much were you to accompany me this Thursday evening to a fairy ring in the glen. May I count on your company? Now that was charming. Who could say no to that?
Even for all of his rehearsal, when her small knuckles rapped against the thick door, his tongue turned to rubber. “In, I mean come in.”
“Am I disturbing you?”
“Not at all,” Jareth claimed fumbling with his coat and opening a book that had been closed. “Did you eat?”
“Oh yes, four pancakes and three pieces of sausage. Food never tasted so good.” Her pink lips smiled making her face seem even brighter than the mango colored dress she was wearing.
“I’m glad.”
“You won’t be when I weigh four hundred pounds and you’re trying to hoof me up those stairs.” Her reply left him flabbergasted. What was that supposed to mean? She wanted to stay long enough for that to happen? She thought he would often find a need to drag her up the stairs? Picking up on his confusion, Sarah went on to say, “Oh I forgot, you all take everything so literally here. I just meant that I shouldn’t keep eating like that because it could have a detrimental effect on my health.”
“I see.”
An uncomfortable silence joined them in the room. “So,” Sarah spoke first, “you were going to tell me about my next appointment.”
“I was? I mean I was. I was,” Jareth stood. Extending an arm, he invited her to join him in the sitting area. “This has been a particularly difficult week for you. I’m not entirely insensitive to that. I’ve rearranged the schedule a bit. Talked to Gandor, who is already rather smitten by you and would likely give you anything you wanted.” Sarah blushed. The color in her cheeks made something warm spread across the Goblin King’s chest. “He’s agreed to put off your visit until next week.”
“Great. So I get a week off?”
“Not exactly, we should work with your magic some so that you’re not so prone to these bouts of exhaustion. But I was wondering, there’s this thing.” He squinted his eyes, mortified that his eloquent words had been mutilated by his own lips. “I apologize. Thursday night a bunch of fairies, uh,” sure that sounded better. Sarah’s head was tilted on her shoulder her green eyes drawn up in the corner, thick black lashes pulling her lids over and back as she played tag with his gaze. “What I’m trying to say is, it would please me very much were you to accompany this Thursday evening to a fairy ring in the glen. May I count on your company?”
Her head nodded quickly a few times before she confirmed, “Yes, that would be lovely. I’ve read about fairy rings in some of your books. I was hoping I’d get to see one while I was here.”
“Reading my books are you?”
“They’re quite interesting, plenty of information. I hoped to have time to read them all, but I’m afraid I didn’t count on there being so many.”
“Yes well it seems that fairy’s tales are told ad nauseam, I’m afraid.”
“And yet there are some tales not yet told, how do you suppose that is?” her eyes sparkled with interest.
“Is there a particular tale you’re searching for?” he asked, clueless that it was his story which had intrigued her.
Deverell entered the office, today’s correspondence in his hand. “Your majesty, milady, I beg your pardons. I was just about to set to answering the day’s mail.”
“No need to apologize Deverell, you have your business to attend to and I have books which I must read. If you men will excuse me,” Sarah replied.
Jareth stood in respect when she moved to leave. “Just a minute milady,” Deverell halted her exit. “You’ve received a letter.”
Before Sarah could get her hands on the envelope Jareth snatched from his assistant’s hand, “From whom?”
“I think that’s my personal business,” she reminded him. Begrudgingly he handed her the envelope. “It’s from Tiberon.” The king’s blood boiled. Sarah’s delicate hands removed the parchment from it’s pouch and unfolded the letter, lilac fragrance filled the room and Jareth noticed the small flowers embedded in the back of the parchment. “It seems I’m invited to dinner at his castle tomorrow.”
“You’re not going.”
“I actually haven’t decided yet.”
“That wasn’t a question. I’m telling you, you’re not going.”
“I didn’t hear you telling me I couldn’t go when you wanted to take me to the fairy ring.”
“That’s different. You’ll be with me.” Even Jareth realized how stupid that sounded.
Deverell attempted to politely excuse himself, “No, you don’t need to leave. Jareth I’m going to make this simple for you. If you want me to go with you Thursday, you’ll let me make my own decision about Tiberon’s tomorrow.”
“But after what he did to you ”
“What? He didn’t know that using magic would wear me out that much. It was an accident.” In honesty, she didn’t feel entirely comfortable going, although she couldn’t put her finger on why, but Jareth’s insistence that she stay, made her want to go more, more than the finely scripted invitation and scented parchment already made her want to go. “He obviously called you as soon as I got sick; otherwise, I wouldn’t have gotten home.”
“Right, you wouldn’t have. I’m sorry I overreacted. Of course you can make your own decision. Please accept my regrets.”
“Apology accepted. Now if you’ll excuse me.”
Jareth hated that Sarah didn’t recall most of the events of the prior evening. He wanted to tell her how he found her, where he found her, but he didn’t want to let on that he suspected anything had transpired between them. The king leveled his eyes at Deverell. “I’m most sorry your grace. I had no idea the post was from Tiberon nor that the lady was not to receive posts from him your
grace.”
“Do you need me for anything?”
“No your grace.”
“Then excuse me, but I must seek the counsel of my servant.”
When Arulan heard what had happened, she agreed that Jareth had done the right thing in letting Sarah make her own decision. Additionally, she reminded him that he could always watch through one of his crystals. “It’s not a bad idea, but Arulan, I’ve seen things in my crystals before that I didn’t much care for, in hindsight.”
“‘Tis a chance you’ll have to take. You’ve got to keep an eye on her, especially if you think Tiberon’s up to something.”
“Maybe I’ll get lucky and she’ll decide not to go.”
“Sure, maybe,” the elf patted his chest with her hand reassuringly.
***** ***** *****
Lying on her stomach in her bed, her feet up and swinging in the air behind her. The invitation read, ‘formal dress suggested’. It sounded intriguing. She was glad she had decided to go. All around her on the bed were open books, things she started to read and never finished, continually distracted by the wafting scent of lilacs when the breeze ruffled her drapes.
Arulan arrived with her ball gown early in the afternoon. “I’ve come to help you get ready miss, that is if you still feel like you want to go.”
“Of course I still want to go,” she said holding the dress against herself. She loved the idea of dressing up and having her hair done. It wasn’t the butterflies she got when she was busy dressing for Jareth’s ball, but it was exciting.
By the time Arulan had finished with her, Sarah’s hair was elegantly braided to reveal two long gemmed earnings that matched the necklace she had chosen. The elf tried to tell her his majesty would be unhappy she had not chosen to wear the necklace she had been given, but she did not heed the warning. Her dress was cut low, laced up the front, full sleeves which set midway down her upper arm. The waist was cinched in tightly and the skirt was full. Tiberon had sent the gown with a card saying, ‘if she would agree to formal dress he thought she would look lovely in it. She did. Polished head to toe, she was every bit the model of perfection she had been the night Jareth created her first ball for her.
As she had promised, Jareth would meet her at a quarter of five so that he could transport to the castle. She waited for him in the main entrance where they had agreed to meet. At first his eyes fell gently upon her, appreciating what they saw, but when he drew near and realized his mother’s choker was not around her neck he became more infuriated. With his left hand, he grasped her shoulder. Riding crop in his right hand, he drew the cold leather loop under her chin. “You’re not wearing the medallion. I think my instructions regarding the medallion were clear.”
“It didn’t match my earrings,” she said flatly.
Closing in on her, now irritated by her smugness, his voice lowered, his tone more commanding, “You will not endanger yourself with this man tonight Sarah. I won’t allow it.” Sarah’s mouth hung open, shocked by the determination and control in his eyes, a sense of domination she had never felt from him before. “If at any time, you’re treated inappropriately, placed in harm’s way, or find yourself feeling strangely ill, I want you to wish me to your side and I’ll bring you home.” He shook her, slightly, but pointedly, “Do you understand me?”
Her breath hitched in her throat at his display of aggression and while she hated to admit to being distracted, it aroused her terribly. “Yes,” she finally managed.
“I’ll be there to pick you up at midnight unless I hear from you sooner.”
“Right, otherwise I turn into a pumpkin,” she chided.
“This is not a joke. Go if you want to go. Leave your medallion here if it clashes with your earrings, but make no mistake about it, you are still mine, with or without that charm, there’s not a fool in this realm who doesn’t know that you belong to me.”
Sarah liked the way that sounded, ‘Make no mistake about it...you belong to me.’ Suddenly she wanted to stay. Her emotions were all tangled up, which made her mouth blurt out, “We’ll be late.” Late for what? Was something going on somewhere? What about what was going on here? The king took her forcefully by the arm and the tingling warmth spread through her. Too late to change her mind now. Damn her stubborn head and hasty tongue.
***** ***** *****
Before the effects of transporting could wear off, Jareth was gone. Sarah stood alone on the steps to Tiberon’s castle, staring blankly at the door, forgetting why she was supposed to be here in the first place. When the door swung open to reveal the Representative in his most formal attire, bejeweled waist coat and matching pants, a white frilly shirt, white leggings that met ankle high boots, just a hint of silver in the otherwise black attire, it was a not so subtle reminder. “I see you wore the dress I sent.”
Still in a fog from the transport and from the king’s fleeting words, Sarah shook her head, “Uh huh.”
“Won’t you come in?” She walked passed him, still not particularly concerned with being there in the first place. Tiberon took her arm and led her to the dining room. The leaves had been removed from the long formal dining table, leaving behind an intimate square and exposing a portion of the dining room. Soft music came from someplace, but Sarah didn’t bother trying to figure out where. “Milady, might I have the first dance?” Without waiting for an answer Tiberon slid one hand around her cinched waist and clasped her palm in the other. His box step was dizzying as he held her at arms length. When the music ended they took their places at the table. Two glasses of red wine were already there accompanying the place settings.
‘Odd,’ Sarah thought, she hadn’t noticed them on the table when she came in, but then again, she hadn’t noticed much with Jareth’s threat echoing in her head.
“To…friendship,” Tiberon rose his glass for a toast. Sarah clinked his glass and sipped the wine, not wishing for a repeat performance of her last meal with the fey, she had already decided to be particularly careful how much she allowed herself to drink. “The bouquet is not to your liking?”
“No, no, I like it just fine. Only last time I drank, I got very ill. I’d rather not overdo it tonight.” The wine warmed her from within. Sarah felt the drops rolling down her throat and plopping into the pit of her stomach. It seemed to do more than create a physical warmth, it seemed to warm her spirit and her heart. All those suspicions and hesitations burning up inside it’s fire. Jareth had been on her mind, but she didn’t remember why and the violet of Tiberon’s eyes suddenly seemed alive.
“Of course not.”
“If it’s all the same, I’d like to remember this visit,” Sarah’s hand lay on his forearm causing the fey to raise an eyebrow at her.
“Well milady if it’s a night to remember you’ve come looking for, that can be arranged.” Perhaps this mortal would be more fun than he had originally thought.
***** ***** *****
In the center of the Labyrinth the king sat in the window of one of the towers. It was facing west where he could see the sun set. Spinning a crystal in his palm he focused on his mortal. Gloved finger clenched around the orb when he saw Sarah’s hand upon Tiberon’s forearm, the glasses of wine between them which stained their lips to match the color of her cheeks. “Do not throw the crystal,” he reminded himself. He continued to watch them, the hours ticking by. First they were served and though their plates contained the same foods in veritably equal portions, they insisted on sampling each others plates. Tiberon offering his food to Sarah and her responding in kind. True to her promise, Sarah kept light on the drink. While she remained awake, she was sipping so that slowly the effects of Tiberon’s magic worked on her more obviously as her warm feelings for him began to manifest in lingering touches and deep meaningful stares. When once again Tiberon took her to the dance floor, he held her closer, moved her around slower. Jareth watched as the Representative drew in her extended arm and held it against his chest, bending his head to place quick kisses over her knuckles.
As he watched them dance on, he sung into the night, “I was dreaming of the past and my heart was beating fast. I began to lose control. I began to lose control. I was feeling insecure. You might not love me anymore. I was shivering inside. I was shivering inside. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry that I made you cry. Oh no, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m just a jealous guy.” Tiberon’s lips covered Sarah’s. The horror of watching her return his kiss forced Jareth to turn his wet eyes into the endless night, “I was trying to catch your eyes. Thought that you were trying to hide. I was swallowing my pain. I was swallowing my pain. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry if I made you cry. Oh no, I didn’t want to hurt you. I’m just a jealous guy. Watch out, I’m just a jealous guy. I’m just a jealous guy.” Jareth blew the crystal into the wind. Let someone else watch this, he couldn’t. Not anymore.
***** ***** *****
In between dances, Sarah returned to the table for a drink. Her throat would grow so dry even when she was not speaking. Quickly the glass she nursed all night began to empty. Her delicate fingers wrapped around the long neck of the wine bottle. “More for you?” she asked Tiberon.
“No thank you,” he told her.
“Suit yourself,” she said feeling tipsy off just one drink. The wine seemed to flow from it’s container in slow motion each ripple moving independently. Sarah’s head began to pound. She tried to set the bottle down but it refused to leave her hand. Her head filled with images of Maeve, busily working a mortar and pestle grinding up a silver powder, dumping it into the bottle, replacing the cork and shaking it frantically. She then poured two glasses, one from the bottle Sarah now held, one from another bottle which had not been tampered with. The fey then set them on the table, the perfect untouched table. ‘Must have been while we were dancing,’ Sarah’s weakening mind thought. The bottle crashed to the ground splintering into thousands of irreparable shards.
“Sarah,” Tiberon called rushing to her side.
“She tried to poison me.”
“What?” he was unaware the mortal had the power of sight.
“Maeve, she tried to poison me. In the wine,” she choked. “There’s something in the wine.” The room began to spin. ‘Damn ’ something deep insider her shouted. ‘Whatever you do,’ she told herself, ‘you’ve got to stay awake.’
“Darling, you should lie down. You don’t look well. What’s say I take you upstairs and help you to bed?”
“No ” she shouted. “I mustn’t go to sleep.”
“I really think it would be best Sarah. Don’t you trust me? Don’t you think I have your best interests at heart, love?”
When Jareth called her love it was so warm and sincere, but when Tiberon used the phrase, it came out mechanically, almost obligatory. And yet, she did trust him. “No Christian,” her head was jumbled by this time and she scrunched her eyes as she tried to sync up her vision with her tongue, “I do not want to go to bed and you can’t make me.”
“Well I can,” Maeve emerged through the servant’s entrance. She chanted a few words Sarah didn’t recognize, lowered her blood red lips to her palm and began to blow a steady stream of granulated crystals in the mortal’s direction. It looked likes sugar in the air. It moved as slow as the wine had, slower.
From somewhere behind the mortal, the wind picked up. Her subconscious using it’s magic to defend her body in it’s weakened state. The crystals blew back upon Maeve so quickly she hadn’t the time to respond, rather only time to brace herself with the table’s edge before her own trick caused her to heap in a pile on the floor. Tiberon watched, shocked by what he had seen. Perhaps he had taken his uncle to lightly when the Sage tried to warn him what this mortal was capable of. Sarah swayed, weakened further by her use of magic.
“I wish you’d let me take you upstairs to bed,” Tiberon told her as he steadied Sarah in his arms. “This has all been far too much for you to bear.”
“Oh, let’s talk about wishes,” Sarah swung her arms in huge circles breaking free of the Representative’s grasp. Her shoes tapped off the dance floor. “I had a wish once. I used it to make somebody go away. Does that scare you Tiberon? Did I mention he was only a poor defenseless child? He was. And you know it took me fifteen years to wish again. Once I did, everything I wished for, I got. My powers grew and I got stronger and stronger without even realizing it. One day I had the chance to do it again, wish someone away, and despite how awful it felt the first time, regardless of how empty it made my heart I did it, only this time it was a grown man, a king. And I,” she smashed her hands against her chest, “I made him disappear. You had no idea what I was capable of such things, did you?” Her tirade paused for a moment. Tiberon watched, part of him feeling dreadful that she reacted to the medication this poorly, but only a small part. Sarah beckoned him closer, “Do you know what I’m wishing for right now, Tibby?” He shook his head from side to side, her fingers dancing over the sides of his face. “I’m not wishing for anyone to go away. Nope, no I’m not.” His eyes rose, a sudden interest peaked by the mortal’s desire. “In fact, I wish Jareth were here right now.”
Instantly he appeared in the room. Tiberon shoved Sarah away. The king caught her in his arms. “Take me home,” she shuttered, snapping her fingers.
The sight of Maeve huddled on the floor did not escape the king. “I don’t know what you’ve done tonight Tiberon and I know you’ll not admit it to me, but make no mistake, I will find out and when I do, you’ll pay, if not with your life than by means which will make you wish you had.” As he had come to do so frequently in the little time she’d been in the Underground, Jareth swept Sarah into his arms and transported them home.
No sooner had he set her on the bed, Jareth rung for Arulan. “What’s happened?” she asked when she saw Sarah lying in bed in the gown, she had dressed her in earlier that afternoon.
“I haven’t a clue. She must have wished for me. I was in the office making today’s journal entry and the next thing I know I’m in Tiberon’s dining room, she’s slurring her words barely able to stand, Maeve’s on the ground in a heap and the Representative is looking as though he’ll be needing to freshen his tights rather soon.”
“Drunk?”
“It seems that way, but I only watched her take one drink while they were together.”
“Are you sure that’s all?” Arulan’s fingers worked fast at Sarah’s laces trying to get her free of the dress and corset so she’d have more air.
“It’s all I saw,” he turned his head and said more softly, “while I was watching.”
“While you were watching? When did you stop watching?”
Viciously he spat at her as he undid Sarah’s shoes, “When they began kissing.”
“It’s just not like our Sarah.”
“I’m afraid you haven’t the foggiest what our Sarah is really like.” The pronoun came from his mouth as though it had left a bad taste along the way.
“Jareth ” More than shock came in Arulan’s voice, it was coupled with reprimand and Jareth heard it hidden their just beneath her surprise, accented on the second syllable of his name. “I’m calling for your healer, we’ll let him decide.”
Though the king was getting pretty sick of women constantly telling him what they were going to do, he allowed Arulan to call for the healer, who in turn came immediately when he was told, potentially, a drugging had been involved. When he arrived, the Goblin King explained the conditions under which he had found the girl, mentioning too, that Maeve was in the state she was in.
“Uh, huh. Yes, yes, that’s normal,” the healer went on with a series of succinct statements that told everyone else in the room positively nothing. “Who was it that suspected this drugging?” Jareth grabbed his temples with one hand, preparing for the worst and waved a finger at Arulan. “Oh, then perhaps I should steal you away to become my assistant for you are a perceptive thing.”
“What?” There was relief in the king, but the anger overrode it.
“Oh yes, she’s been drugged for sure. Something not terribly powerful, but it is hallucinogenic. Did the girl seem to be believing things she wouldn’t normally otherwise?”
“I’ll say,” Arulan acknowledged.
“She’s been very trusting and friendly with Tiberon,” Jareth confirmed.
“That’ll do. I’m sure she used magic within the last six hours, that, combined with the drug, has knocked her cold again. I’ll mix her up something, but right now, rest is the best thing for her. Be wary that she’s protected for at least another twelve hours until the full effects of the medication wear off as she’ll be extremely susceptible to suggestion.”
Arulan and Jareth looked at each other, both thinking the same thing. Now would be the time to plant a seed in Sarah’s head, a tiny idea about falling in love with the king, which could grow into something more full and promising. Without words, both let the idea fade. Neither wished to sink themselves to the level of the Representative, “Send for Hoggle. I’ll have him keep watch over her until the time passes. He’s the only one I trust not to manipulate her in any way.”
“Well, I’d best go and examine Maeve if you say that she’s as bad as all that,” the healer left
promptly.
***** ***** *****
“Tiberon, I’m not going away. Jareth told me about Maeve’s accident and I need to take a look at her.”
“She’s fine thank you, just took a nasty fall.” Tiberon’s voice wavered as he tried to convince the healer.
“Tiberon, when Maeve came to me asking to learn the art of apothecary, I conceded. I never gave her my permission or the idea to go about drugging anyone so that you could control them. Let me pass, so I can treat the woman or, by the Underground, I’ll go straight to the Triumvirate and have you both banished.”
Upon Jareth’s advice, the healer went straight to the dining room where the Representative sunk to his knees and hunched over the woman’s body frantically trying to wake her. The healer shoved him aside. “How foolish the fey can be sometimes. Always thinking they’re the superior ones, never thinking they can be hurt or destroyed. Immortality makes you all mad. Bring me some water and a bowl, a wooden bowl.” When Tiberon returned with the water in a wooden bowl, the healer added to it a potent herbal mixture that smelled like a combination of bog water and mint. By the palmful he spooned the mixture over Maeve’s head until her eyes began to flutter. “You play dangerous games milady, and there are times when those we seek to destroy make us take a long look at ourselves. A taste of your own medicine should teach you a good lesson.” He gathered his things, “Send her to bed, she’ll live.”
When he was gone, the Representative grabbed Maeve hard by the shoulders. “You’ve ruined everything ”
“No really, I’m fine, thank you,” she spat back at him shaking off his hands. “You had no more clue than I did she was that powerful. “You and your fancy ideas. Jareth was already convinced you’d bedded his mortal. You’re the one who got greedy, wanted just one more night with her. You didn’t really think she’d want a vile thing such as yourself did you?”
The back of his hand cracked on her cheek. Drops of blood gathered slowly in the corner of her mouth. Maeve licked them a way. “You’ll never do it alone,” she warned. “You and a hundred men won’t take Jareth, no one before you has succeed and you will most likely die trying.” He swung at her again, but she caught his hand, pulling a small dagger from her belt, she held it to his throat. “Or you could die before you get the chance to try.” When his posture relaxed, she released his hand and left, what little dignity she still had in tact.
“I don’t need you Maeve.” His hand rubbed over his Adam’s apple. “I don’t need you or Sarah. I have the Shadow King, better than a hundred men. I’ll make the king defeat himself.” Tiberon folded his right hand to his chest, the other lifting his wine glass from the table as he swung around to music no one else heard.
***** ***** *****