Sarah’s chest rose and fell in erratic patterns occasionally making it seem as if she had been gasping for air. Beads of sweat gathered on her brow and cheeks. Jareth wiped down her face with a damp cloth when he came back from the bath with a new batch of poultice for her shoulder. She was still in the clothes she’d worn to the battle. Using his magic he covered her in something more comfortable, something light and white and made of cotton. With great care, he pulled her arm out of the short sleeve exposing her injury. Wetting down the old dressing, the king peeled it back from her skin. Beneath the clump of herbs and medicines her skin was purple, swollen and hot. The wound had begun to heal, scar tissue binding the open flesh together, but what remained was the worst evidence of iron poisoning he had seen in quite some while. Softly, Jareth swept her wound with the cloth, cleaning it before applying a new dressing. Then he took everything back into the bath where he could dispose of the used dressing and freshen the basin for the next treatment. He caught sight of himself in the mirror above the sink. “Eh gawd,” he moaned at his appearance. “Would you look at this?” His hair was flat, his face hung. The king looked even more pale than usual and huge clouds had settled beneath his eyes. Longing for a bath to rid his skin of the feeling he’d just come from a battle, Jareth looked out at Sarah. ‘No,’ he thought. ‘I might fall asleep in the tub, as I am prone to do and if I failed to administer the dressings...’ His thoughts trailed off. There would be no forgetting, no sleeping, nothing. With or without benefit of a time suspension oubliette, time stood still within the walls of his chamber until his mortal woke. Removing his gloves Jareth filled his palms with cold water and splashed them over his face. A wave of his hand and he wore fresh breeches and a clean shirt, his hair restored, for now anyway, freshening up would have to suit him.
A knock upon the door distracted him. “What is it?” he growled as he pulled open the door.
“Jareth,” the Cleric said his words filled with empathy. “That this was done in my name disturbs me greatly.” As though the king hadn’t snapped at him, he charged passed to Sarah’s bedside.
“How did you find out?” Jareth asked.
“You have an excellent staff that cares greatly for you and for this woman,” he told him. “Deverell sent me word. I came as soon as I could to offer you my prayers and to reassure you that Tiberon will not go unpunished.”
“I don’t care about Tiberon. His father is dead, it’s punishment enough when you consider he was the last among us to care about the man.” Jareth looked at his mortal in the bed, “I’ve had enough with punishment,” he declared. “We bring our own ill will when we hold hate in our hearts.”
“So we do.” The Cleric sat on the edge of the bed between the girl and the king. “You’ve changed, you’ve grown and it pleases me to see you with your senses intact after all you’ve been through.”
Jareth snorted. “Intact? I’m numb. I grieve for my losses one minute and riddle myself with guilt the next. Then in the third instant I’m ignorant to anything but her and whether or not she’ll live.”
“I see nothing wrong with the sequence you’ve described. Jareth, you’ve come to look at life from all perspectives, hence the ever rotating focus of your concerns.”
The king grew solemn, “My focus remains the same. All my energy is Sarah’s for the taking. I’d trade my life for hers if it was an option.”
“I can see that.”
“The healer told me to pray,” Jareth looked at the Cleric for his reaction. “You know I haven’t done that sort of thing for a long while, pray I mean. I don’t think I know how. I don’t know what to say. I’m angry at anything or anyone who would allow this to happen.”
“So you should be. And so you should say precisely what you feel. There is no stone tablet with a recipe for praying our loved ones well again. Speak to the Supreme One from your heart as you would speak to me Jareth. Prayer is just talking to someone you can’t see.” He shrugged. “I’ll be praying for her, as is the rest of your kingdom. Even the Gavel admitted to wishing her well. Focus your energy on her and the rest will take care of itself. From what I’ve been told you’ve got nothing to feel guilty for. Let yourself grieve, how else are you going to feel whole again? When Sarah comes back to you, she’ll deserve all of you. Do it for her.” The Cleric turned his attention to the woman in the bed, “You milady, you are a brave girl, standing up to the Triumvirate the way you have. Not to mention strong-arming the Gavel into having some compassion. This is too little a thing to keep you from being lively. Next time I see you Sarah, and there will be a next time, I expect you to be on the mend.” His eyes closed but his lips continued to move as he left a blessing with the frail girl. A firm swat on Jareth’s back and the Cleric readied himself to leave.
“I’ll show you to the door,” the king offered.
“I’ve seen it before,” the Cleric chided. “Stay with your mortal.”
As the door closed, Sarah began to fidget and was grumbling something. Jareth leaned over her, but as quickly as she had stirred, she settled again, completely ignorant as Jareth called to her from beside the bed. With a heavy sigh, the king fell into the chair he’d brought to the girl’s bedside. ‘It should be me,’ he thought as he saw her looking so small and weak. His hand smoothed over the duvet before he realized he had left his gloves in the other room. Then he remembered what she had once said to him. ‘I hate them,’ he recalled her words, her proclamation of distaste for the seemingly permanent covering on his hands, as she wondered aloud if she would ever know the true touch of Jareth’s hand. “I should have conceded to you when you asked, love. I should have always conceded to you.” The king stretched out his hand and slowly lowered it to her palm as if he was cupping fire. His eyes closed as his lips parted and a slow hiss of air escaped. “I promise, when we’re alone, I’ll never wear them again.” A tear escaped his eye. Gathering up her hand in his, he asked, “And what will you promise me.” He waited a moment as if he expected her to reply and then as though he had generated her reply on her behalf he said, “Well of course you’ve got to promise me something. That’s how it works. I make you a promise and in exchange for my generosity you make me a promise. Now, what shall it be?” His hands rubbed over her fingers. They’d grown cold, probably a result of the swelling constricting the arteries that carried blood to her hand. “This,” he went on lifting her hand a little, noticing how small it looked between his own, “this is a big thing for me. You don’t realize that, but when you wake up, I’ll tell you all about it and then you’ll see. But in the meantime, I need you to make me that promise.”
Sleep suddenly seemed like a necessity to the king. Closing his eyes and not seeing her, not like this, just for a moment. Between his shut lids and the feel of her soft, cold hand it became obvious what he wanted from the girl. Pleading his voice began to fill the chamber as he sang. “Please promise me that when I wake up from my dreams, you’ll be there by my side. Love, if you say you won’t slip away, then I can go dreaming of forevermore. But I won’t rest until I know that you’ll be here in the morning by my side. Here in my reach, I can see the one that I have waited for so long and deep in my heart, I know the arms I’m holding now will hold me from now on. Love, if you say you won’t slip away, then I can go dreaming of forevermore. But I won’t rest until I know that you’ll be here in the morning by my side. I dread the dawn. Lie awake and find you gone. Please tell me you will stay, then sleep will come. I know my love has found a home, in your arms, all my days. Love, if you say you won’t slip away, then I can go dreaming of forevermore. But I won’t rest until, I know that you’ll be here in the morning, by my side, in the morning by my side.” When the song had ended the king’s face was soaked with tears. He lowered his lips to her knuckles and whispered a kiss over the back of her hand. “Promise me that.”
Rage tore through him as if an iron blade had pierced his skin as well. Long strides carried him back to the washroom, only this time he shut the door behind him. Picking up his gloves, Jareth slid his hands inside and balled them into fists. “If you’re trying to punish me,” he roared, “it’s working I got those people killed and I have to live with their deaths, but if it were possible I’d tell you to switch my body with the one in that bed.” Jareth took a few quick breaths before continuing, “You’re going to take her from me anyway. You always were and I dealt with that, well I planned on dealing with it.” His voice suddenly grew calmer. “I planned on letting her go back to her world. Somehow I thought I might even find a way to forgive you for it, but not if you take her from me like this. You’re not making me suffer, you’re making her suffer and it’s not fair.” His Adam’s apple wiggled in his throat threw the tight skin when his head through back. “Do you hear me? Not fair, to make her pay when I’m the one who should be paying. I don’t deserve her, but the rest of her world does. There’s some child out there who doesn’t have her for a mother yet and there’s some idiot mortal man who will undoubtedly under appreciate her until a ripe old age, an age she was meant to reach and you know that because you’re supposed to know everything. You know this isn’t what her life had in store for her, that it’s my fault she’s in this mess in the first place. I’ll suffer when she’s back Aboveground. You can find ways to torment me then. I won’t object, but don’t you take her, not when I’m the one you want.” Jareth’s back connected with the wall and he slid to the floor. His arms fold over his knees and he tucked his chin to his chest. “Not when I’m the one who wishes he could go.”
***** ***** *****
Two hour increments continued to come and go as Jareth tended to Sarah’s needs while talking to her in low, persuasive tones, hoping it would spark her will to return to him. By noon the next day, everyone who had been effected by the potions Tiberon and Maeve dumped into the castle’s water supply had awaken. If there were any silver lining to be found, each of them felt incredibly well rested. The chamber door had remained closed very little once the visitors started to arrive. In the afternoon, the crowd had gotten so backed up, there was a line in the hall and as one left another took their place. Deverell stood beside the king. Jareth knew the exact moment because he had just looked at the clock to see if it was time for a dressing change. He snorted as he caught himself wishing he hadn’t removed the 13th hour from his clock face. “Your majesty, I know you must be blaming yourself for what happened.”
“There is no one else to blame.” Jareth did not meet Deverell’s eyes or he’d have seen the concern growing there. “I’d prefer not to discuss this now.”
“You didn’t fire that bow nor throw the dagger and you didn’t cower behind Sarah as Darien approached you.”
“How do you know?” His hands worked to replace the fresh poultice against her skin. “No one was there but for the three of us. How do you know I didn’t throw her at him to spare myself?”
Deverell took Jareth by his shoulders and forced him to meet his eye. “Because,” he said sternly, “the man who told me before I’d so much as dined with this girl that I must be prepared to die for her, would never do such a thing. Your were raised a royal and a gentleman and the code by which you live would not allow it. And besides,” he removed his hands from Jareth’s shoulders and glanced at Sarah, “your love for her would have made it more difficult than driving an iron blade straight into your own heart.” Silence hung between them, silence and knowing. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
“Were that I could.” Jareth took away the soiled basin and the old poultice.
When he returned, he overheard Deverell’s parting words to the girl. “...just as soon it been any one of us rather than you. But you’re strong. You beat the king didn’t you? That is no task for the mild of heart. Good day milady.” The young fey bent over and pressed his lips softly to her forehead. His closed eyes did not see the wrinkles her skin made as her body tried desperately to interpret the sensation and Jareth was too closely watching Deverell to see for himself. “Your majesty,” he said with a nod. “I’ll be off, unless you require anything further of me.”
“As a matter of fact Deverell, there is something I’ve been meaning to ask you. Come and sit.” As Deverell made himself comfortable, Jareth went to the cart against the far wall and poured two glasses of brandy. He sat opposite the man who’d been sent to him by the Cleric and offered him the drink. “Deverell, I think you know when first you arrived here I was not keen on sharing responsibility for my kingdom with another fey. I didn’t know you, didn’t trust you and frankly, didn’t think you could handle the job.” The young fey looked into his glass. This was it, Jareth was about to ask him to leave. He had failed to keep an eye on the Shadow King and cost Jareth his assistant. The thought of what could have happened to Sarah made him tremble. “Since then, you’ve learned to fight, you’ve taken care of my goblins and you have showed great dignity in doing so. Losing Turgomon is a huge blow to me, on a personal level because I do not trust many and yet him I trusted completely. His being gone weighs heavy on me, not to mention it has created a vacant position in my staff.”
“I apologize your majesty. You have to know I feel responsible for his death, were I to have kept better track of the Shadow King, he’d have not had the opportunity to...”
Jareth downed the rest of his brandy and then cut off Deverell’s words before he could restate the outcome of the battle. “I’m asking you to stand in his place, permanently. Deverell, I would like you to be my assistant.”
“Your majesty, I’m not worthy to fill Turgomon’s shoes.”
“That may be, but if you continue to improve yourself, I believe you have a great aptitude for growing into them.”
Deverell nodded his head. “When I came to the Underground, I thought it a queer place. It made me more greatly appreciate Burggraaf and the family I’d left behind. After I was here a bit I could see how the goblins depended on you, how despite being greedy, uncoordinated little slobs, they still depend on you and you provide for them, even with all your complaints. And today, today on the battlefield, I watched you cast your personal regard aside. You fought for justice and equality. You didn’t know we would come, you couldn’t have. Even if we hadn’t come, you were prepared to face them.” Jareth moved to interrupt him, but Deverell would not allow it, “When we came, your face showed a great confidence, not in the thought that we as an army would beat Darien and his men, but confidence that we would not let you down and in exchange for that confidence we willingly stood beside you and protected the throne, at all costs. That is a feeling of pride Burggraaf has never given me.” The king did not speak. His look focused on the bottom of his brandy glass. Deverell placed his glass on the table before him and stood. His right hand fell to Jareth’s shoulder. “I did not know him well, but I know Turgomon felt that same pride I felt today and I know he died content with himself. Content that Sarah was safe and the throne would remain under your rule. Your offer moves me. For the Underground and in his name, it would give me great pleasure to serve you, my lord.” Words escaped Jareth as he nodded. The young fey understood this was both an emotional topic for him and a confession of trust which did not come easy for him. Respecting the king’s shortcomings in this area, Deverell left the chamber without waiting for a response.
***** ***** *****
More than a full day had passed before Arulan had finished the house chores and found herself with enough uninterrupted time she could pay Sarah and the king a proper visit. Slowly she slipped inside the room, a plate of hot food in one hand. “You haven’t eaten since breakfast yesterday,” she reminded Jareth. “I thought you might be hungry. Cook made your favorite tonight, rabbit, with some of those small round potatoes you like so much.” Showing no interest in eating, Jareth only stared blankly at the elf. “Or perhaps you’d like to rest. You look as if you haven’t slept in a week.”
“I’m fine,” he said in a removed sort of way.
His tone prompted Arulan to ask, “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”
A half smile lifted the left corner of Jareth’s mouth. “I suppose I could use something to eat, maybe a bath.” He reached for the plate Arulan held, carried it to Sarah’s bedside and balanced it on his knee as he tried to eat. Although he had a fine chef in his employ, Jareth was definitely eating to live. Arulan could have brought him plain oatmeal and a handful of raisins, it would have tasted all the same. A few mechanical bites from the plate and he’d shoved it away in lieu of another dressing change on Sarah’s shoulder.
“Why don’t I do that,” the elf said as she handed Jareth back his plate. Peeling back the duvet, Arulan examined Sarah’s shoulder.
“You need to wet down the old dressing first.”
“I know, I was just looking at, trying to get an idea of how much fresh poultice I would need.”
Jareth sighed. “Just let me do it. It’s second nature to me.”
“Sit and eat. I’m quite capable of dressing a wound.” Arulan shot him a hard stare on her way to the washroom. Under her breath she grumbled, “Tell me I don’t know how to dress a wound.” When she returned to the mortal’s side Jareth watched her every move. “It really doesn’t look so bad,” Arulan evaluated as she removed the old mixture. Jareth peaked around her so he could get a look for himself. The skin was still purple, the swelling had seemed to subside some, but without any movement to make Sarah seem more lifelike it was hard to be hopeful. “I know she’s going to come out of this,” she told the king as she applied the fresh mixture.
“How can you be sure?” Jareth asked hoping she would say something factual, something medical he could trust in.
The elf smiled, “Because I believe it.” The same words Sarah had comforted her with a little over a day earlier. Arulan took the basin into the bath. “They’re having services for Turgomon in the morning.” The king swung his head around at her casual attitude toward the topic, a look of innocence graced her face.
“So quickly?” Jareth asked trying to seem as casual and failing miserably.
Arulan came to his side, “His family has decided to set a pyre out to sea.”
“They’re taking him to the Northeast?” Jareth shouted.
“Jareth it was his childhood home, just because it isn’t what it used to be.”
“Dawn?”
“Of course.” She paused uncertain of whether or not she should push the issue. “You should go.”
“I can’t. I’ve got to take care of Sarah.”
“I can do that.”
“Looking like this, you expect me to go to a funeral looking like this?”
The elf’s small hands shoved him toward the bath. “No, but I do expect you to go get cleaned up. Then I expect you to get a few hours rest and attend your assistant’s funeral Jareth. It would be terribly improper for you not go and pay respects, offer your condolences to his family.”
“But what if she wakes up?” The look in his eyes was desperate as the king looked over Sarah. “I can’t just not be here.”
“I’ll tell her where you are and I won’t let her so much as step a toe out of bed until you’re back.” She ran water in his tub, “You’ve got to go, Jareth, no more excuses.”
***** ***** *****
Just before dawn Arulan shook him awake. Jareth stretched over the edge of the couch where he’d slept. He was too afraid to sleep next to Sarah for fear that he might be restless and disturb her. Though he hated to admit it, the food, the bath, the rest had all done him well. Jareth was refreshed and alert which compensated for his extreme lack of serenity.
She looked at him. Regardless of the fact he was about to attend a funeral, she couldn’t help seeing him all dressed in black, so formal and flawless, and thinking how she wished it was a wedding he was about to attend. “You better get a move on if you don’t want to be late.”
Checking his appearance in the mirror, he straightened his collar and pulled down his sleeves. Then turning around, Jareth leaned over Sarah’s lifeless body. For a long moment he just stared, hoping she would wake up and keep him from leaving for this ritual. When he sensed Arulan about to chastise him again, he pressed his lips to hers and whispered in her ear, “I’ll be back, love, before you even know I’m gone.” Then with a turn of his wrist, he disappeared.
***** ***** *****
On the cliffs where he and Sarah had stood during their visit, the king joined Turgomon’s family, his mother to Jareth’s immediate left. His arm draped around her back as he offered his sympathies. Her face burrowed into his shoulder as the pyre was lit and Turgomon’s body was sent to sea. In the background a choir sang. Jareth held to Turgomon’s mother, as if by holding her he could bring back the assistant he had lost, allowing their tears to fall like rain. Dignity didn’t matter. The king he was supposed to be had been forgotten and in his place there was left a man, his mortality suddenly brought to the surface though it hadn’t been a part of him since he was several months old, it became real in that minute. As the pyre sailed on further and further from the on-looking mourners Jareth reached the painful realization that the Gavel had struggled with all these years. Just because someone was immortal, didn’t mean they were invincible.
When they’d cried their eyes dry, Jareth gave Turgomon’s mother the medal her son would have been awarded were he to have survived. She thanked him and kissed his cheek. “He was proud to serve you, your majesty and proud to die in your service I’m sure.”
“You don’t know?” he asked.
She shook her head, “They only told me he died in service to you, keeping you alive.”
Jareth thought for a moment, weighing the truth against an old woman’s conscious and the decision was simple. “It’s true. I was face to face with Darien and just as the former king, my grandfather, was about to plunge his sword into my chest Turgomon jumped in front of me.”
“But my boy had a neck wound,” she reminded him.
“So he did, but that’s because as he spurted off to Darien, one of grandfather’s men shot at him from the bushes. No one saw it coming and they struck him. His death was immediate and I’m sure he felt little if any pain.”
“I pray you’re right.”
“Tell me what I can do for you,” he instructed sincerely.
Turgomon’s mother’s eyes filled with water, “You could give me back my son, but that’s incredibly unfair of me to ask. Instead, just promise me, you’ll see that Darien is brought to justice for his crimes.”
“No one’s told you about him either.” She shook her head once more, “Darien is dead, ma’am. The Supreme One will bring his justice to him now.”
“Well if what they say is true, than he has already heard my suggestion. Thank you for coming your majesty.”
“Please. I have known you since I was a child, call me Jareth.”
“But your majesty...” she realized what he was saying and complied immediately with his wishes, “Of course, Jareth. As I said, thank you for coming.” The king bowed to the woman and when she turned away to tend to some distant relative, Jareth motioned his hand and transported himself home.
***** ***** *****
Facing reality as it existed outside the chamber where Sarah lie had made him hungry. His wild mane dove into the ice chest in search of the remains from dinner or even this morning’s meal. Arulan came in behind him, her shoulders heaving, a tight squeal coming from her throat. “What is it?” She pointed upstairs, the squeal turning into a wheeze, water welling in her eyes. “Sarah?” he asked. Unable to speak, Arulan nodded and like a shot, Jareth ran to his mortal, taking the stairs two at a time. He flung open the door, expecting to see her dead in the bed they had shared. Instead, she sat up in the bed, her arm now fed through the sleeve, a bandage around her shoulder where he had removed and replace poultice for almost two days. “You’re alive?” Jareth asked, perhaps too quickly.
“You sound upset,” Sarah replied.
“No,” he reassured her, rushing to the mortal’s side. “It’s just when I saw Arulan, she was crying and I thought...”
“Not crying, laughing. The healer was here to look me over and he told us the best joke.”
“A joke,” Jareth repeated.
“Yes about a pixie who has too much mead and when she’s lying on the toadstool...”
It was a joke he’d heard, “And she says, ‘What do you mean? I thought I was flying.’”
“That’s the one, that’s it.” Sarah was so alive compared to the way he’d left her and no one had told him, no one had sent for him. She had back the creamy color of her skin, the light in her eyes. She was positively vibrant and tickled pink at the silly joke the healer had told her.
Jareth grabbed her hard and pulled her close. Her arms wrapped around him. Fast and furious his hands slid over her in some fantastic attempt to prove she was real. “Do you know how close I came to losing you? Do you have any idea what you’ve put everyone through these last couple of days?” His voice was low and angry. “We’ve been worried sick What on earth, or in the Underground for that matter, were you thinking, throwing yourself in front of a partially iron sword?”
“I was thinking I couldn’t let you die.” Although Sarah had begun to doubt it was such a good decision.
“Why?” he asked as his hands clasped her upper arms, shaking her head lulling side to side. “Why would you take a chance at losing your own life to preserve mine? The damned thing wouldn’t have killed me, but it could have killed you. Why would you want to die?”
Sarah’s eyes filled with tears, did he not want her to show her devotion? Was it bringing up questions? “Because,” she said weakly.
“Because ” he raged. “Because What caliber of answer is that? Because ”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what you want me to say. I thought you’d be happy I was well again.”
“I am. I just don’t understand.”
“What’s to understand?” she cried, tears staining her cheeks. “I didn’t want you to die and for that minute it wasn’t worth living if you weren’t here.”
Jareth’s voice lowered and he held her close to his chest, his pale skin cool against her hot, wet cheek. “But they’re sending you home soon Sarah, as soon as Darien is buried, they’ll send you home. What will my world, or my life matter when you’re torn from it? Why risk your life for a man you won’t even know by week’s end.”
“Darien’s dead?” she asked at the king’s mention of a burial.
Jareth sighed, “Yes, but I’m not worried about him, I’m worried about you.?”
Closing her eyelids tight, Sarah forced out the tears from beneath her lids. Jareth felt her jaw roll as she swallowed hard, “Because,” she choked.
Softly his hand slid over her silky hair, “Because ” he waited for a more accurate reply.
Pulling back from him, she looked into his eyes. The battle came to the foreground of her mind. She saw Darien’s sword inches from his heart, the steely determination in Jareth’s eyes. Sarah knew he was ready to die and she knew why. With her about to be sent home, he had no reason to live. “Because I love you,” she said sincerely. The king did not move, not the bat of an eyelash, not the sharp inhale of a breath. Her hands rose to his face, “I’ve waited so long, wanted to be sure. I didn’t know what true love was when I came here and it seemed like such a big deal to you, I didn’t want to not be sure.” Tears began to flow again. “When I thought about Darien stabbing you, when I thought I would have to watch you die, when it occurred to me that life without you was no life, I knew. And I knew that I would rather die proving my love for you than live the rest of my life denying it.”
For the first time in centuries, the king sat speechless. There were no words for what was in his heart. “Jare ” Sarah started to call his name, but was cut short by his kiss. His arms folded around her so tightly, she thought he’d must have encircled her twice. His hands were in her hair and running along the length of her back. The kiss they shared was deep and rough and needy. After the initial shock of Jareth’s actions, Sarah began to return his kiss with equal enthusiasm. She loved him and she had told him so. In fact, she felt as if she wanted to climb to the top of the highest mountain and shout it for the realm to hear. Carried away by the moment Jareth undid the tie at the neck of her gown and slid the shoulders down trailing kisses along her porcelain skin as he went. Sarah too, enamored with his passion rose her arms to remove his jacket and was given a particularly painful reminder of the wound on her shoulder.
“Now, now my young lovers,” the healer said as he approached the bed from the washroom where he’d only half watched their exchange, but made it a point to hear everything. “I’m afraid the lady needs a bit more rest before you two shall I say consummate your feelings for one another.” He handed Sarah two pills and a glass of water. “I’m leaving two more of those for her to take with her evening meal. If all goes well, as it has up until now, she should be fine by morning, but she needs rest.” He eyed the king. “Milady, as always it is a pleasure to see you looking so remarkable.” The healer kissed her hand and excused himself.
“Thank you,” Sarah called when he reached the door.
“No thanks necessary,” he replied.
Alone in the room, Jareth found himself unable to tear his eyes from her. Sarah wiped the tears from her face exposing her blushed cheeks, blushed by embarrassment for the healer having seen their kiss and blushed by the heat Jareth had stirred within her. “Are you going to talk to me or are you going to just sit there and look at me?” Sarah asked growing uneasy in the midst of his uncharacteristic silence.
“I’m going to sit here and look at you,” he admitted. “Until I have memorized exactly how you looked the first time I heard you say you loved me.”
“Don’t do that. I’m a mess,” she smiled for in her heart she knew no matter how ragged she would ever appear, she had found total acceptance in his eyes. “Wait until I’m well and memorize me when I tell you then.”
“I don’t want to wait that long for you to tell me again.”
“But the healer said I’d be better by morning.”
Jareth slid in to bed on her right side. His left arm slid behind her and supported her weight. Deeply, he looked into her eyes and with a truth he’d never shown to anyone he said, “I don’t want to wait that long.”
Sarah lifted her chin, tilting back her head as her eyes fluttered from his passionate stare to his lips. “I love you,” she told him before pressing her lips to his. “I truly do.”
“And I have always loved you,” he reminded her as her head lowered to his chest. The steady rhythm of his heart, safe and still beating within his chest lulled her back to sleep and the king joined her. It was a better sleep than he had ever recalled having.
***** ***** *****
Arulan brought their evening meal to Sarah’s chamber and found them snuggled together in the bed. A demur cough from the elf was enough to stir Jareth, “Arulan, is it so late already?”
“‘Fraid so your majesty. I don’t mean to disturb the two of you, but the healer said Miss Sarah ought to have another set of pills with her evening meal.”
“Indeed,” his hand softly rested on Sarah’s hip as he rolled her to and fro just an inch or so to stir her awake.
“Jareth,” she called out still groggy, moaning as she tried to stretch and still felt the pain in her arm. Arulan smiled at the way the king’s name sounded so natural on her lips, pleased she would awaken and immediately call for him.
“Dinner is here, love, you’ve got to eat.”
Arulan set a tray over her lap and removed the cover from the dish, “All soft foods I’m afraid.” Sarah looked at the lump of mashed potatoes and another lump of something green and some ambiguous pile of something brown. In a small cup outside the dome was applesauce. “I know it doesn’t look very good, but it’s what the healer ordered for you, miss, just until you’ve had the last of your medication.”
“Well, I suppose that gives me something to look forward to.” She was blissfully happy and who could blame her. It was as if her long sleep had caused her to forget all that had happened at the battlefield and only the recollection of declaring her love was fresh in her mind.
“I’ll eat downstairs so as not to disturb you with my chewing, unless of course, we’re all dining frappe in honor of Sarah.”
“No sire, there’s a more solid rendition set aside for you,” Arulan confirmed.
Sarah’s hand stilled Jareth as he attempted to leave the bed. “You’ll do no such thing. Arulan, bring the king his meal here, if you please.”
“Right away, miss,” the elf smiled but didn’t move.
“Well, you heard the lady Arulan, bring me my evening meal, here, with my mortal.” His high heeled boots kicked into the air as he settled back with her.
“Right away your majesty.”
Midway through their meal, Jareth mentioned Deverell’s having accepted his offer of assistant to him and Sarah asked, “Turgomon?”
“Sarah, you needn’t address this until you’re well.”
“Has he been did his family was there ” she stumbled with words as she tried to think what an immortal community would do to honor their dead.
Jareth smoothed over her hand, “There was a service this morning at the cliffs. I spoke with his mother and though it was somewhat of a half truth, I believe I gave her some peace to end the tragedy.”
“I wish I could have been there. He died protecting me.” Her eyes began to moisten.
“It was probably better you weren’t there. Much of the family Turgomon came from still has great hostility for mortals.”
Thoughts wandered as it suddenly occurred to her Jareth had mentioned something about services for Darien. “What will happen with your grandfather?”
“Being a former king,” Jareth explained, “he’ll be displayed for the community to pay it’s respect. Although I doubt it is a process which would take more than fifteen minutes, the body will remain three days time. The day after tomorrow, he’ll be rested as the family determines fit.”
“Are you going to attend?”
“I have a duty to, but I have an overwhelming guilt which makes me not want to.”
“I’ll go with you if you’d like.”
Jareth smiled at her. He knew she would never fail to amaze him with her compassion. “I’d like you with me always, Sarah, but are you sure you’re up for it? I don’t know how the rest of Darien’s family will react, but Tiberon will not take kindly to my attendance and I’m sure less kindly to yours.”
“My place is by your side.” Her statement was pointed and determined.
“And so the space at my side can only be filled by you.” Jareth moved away their trays and went to get Sarah’s medication from the bath. Handing her the pills he remarked, “Down the hatch. We want you feeling your old self by morning.”
With a look of feigned dismay Sarah glumly replied, “I was rather hoping you’d be feeling my old self by morning.”
“Were it that my hands could wait that long,” he admitted as he slid in beside her clasping his arms around her mid-section and burying his head into her neck where his lips massaged her flesh.
Jareth felt the muscles of her neck undulate as she swallowed down the two rather large pills. Relief washed over him as he knew finally, she would be alright. An instant later he heard her question, “What did you mean when you said the blade wouldn’t have killed you?” and his perfect moment shattered.
“When did I say that?” he attempted to skirt her inquiry.
“When we were yelling back and forth about why I jumped between the two of you. You said something about a partial iron blade not killing you. I thought iron meant an almost instant death for fey.”
What seemed like long ago, when Sarah had first returned Underground Jareth had little interest in sharing of himself with her, then as their time progressed and his feeling deepened, he was hesitant, knowing she would be taken from him. There was much he had not told her about himself, about what he was. This question only one among the many she would undoubtedly have once he began to tell her the truth. Jareth felt her eyes on him, two eager green pools wanting nothing more than to know the man they looked upon. The king was still fairly uncertain about what would happen with the Triumvirate when they stood before them for the third time, but when he looked at her, when his mind replayed the music of her professed love in his ears he could deny her nothing. Besides, he was tired of not giving himself to her completely, not only as he had held back at the beginning of their romance, but holding back of himself and his emotion. He wanted her to own all of him from his body to all the secrets of his heart. “You sweet, sweet child,” he said caressing her cheek. Her blood boiled when he called her child, but with as much tenderness as was in his eyes when the word fell from his lips, Sarah refused to bawk. “There is much you’ve yet to learn about me. Perhaps tonight is not the time.”
“Tonight is the time. Now is the time. I can’t do what it is I want to do with you,” she admitted. ‘How else shall we pass the time?’ she wondered as her hands roamed his chest, undoing the buttons of his shirt and pulling the garment from his waistband. Dipping her head, she kissed his stomach several times before his palm guided her head back to eye level.
Pinching her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he feigned submission, “I’ll talk, I’ll talk ” he cried. “You can be so cruel.” His lips grazed hers before he began his tale. “I’ve told you about my mother and her frequent visits to your world, but what I’ve yet to mention is this. Mother met a mortal man Aboveground, one whom she loved very much, a noble man who accepted her for what she was. They were wed and returned Underground. By the time they returned it was too late for the Triumvirate to object to the marriage. The Leanan Sidhe had given Ian, my father, her soul and in doing so heightened his senses. Fey have heightened senses of all sorts, not just hearing, but for my father it was worse because he was used to human caliber senses. Suddenly colors were more vivid, sounds came from places where he saw no one.” Jareth paused a long moment. “Still father was earnestly more concerned with giving himself to my mother and not at all concerned with his needs, so he remained Underground. Eventually the heightened senses grew to be too much for him and he went mad, just before he died. Although I was yet to be born when father died, I rather think the madness had nothing to do with his death. I think he’d just given so much of himself that he had nothing left.”
“You’re half mortal?” she asked even though he’d as good as said it.
“I am,” he confessed. “Shortly after my birth I was christened fey so as to spare me from perishing in the magical atmosphere, but there is mortal blood in me and because of it I have a much higher tolerance to iron than other fey. This is why I said I likely could have taken Darien’s blow and suffered no more because of it than you did.”
“That’s why the water had no effect on you,” she looked confused. “Why wouldn’t you tell me you were mortal?” she asked.
Taking a deep breath for courage, Jareth went on, “I was afraid. You see Sarah, there’s been rumor since your first visit I had acquired mother’s tastes for mortals. There were those who questioned my ability to be king when I would only continue to thin the bloodline with my mortal, and don’t take this personally, whores.” How the hell could she not take that personally? “Back then I thought it best if I forgot you and moved on, but we both know to forget you has been as impossible as touching the sun. When you came back, I was still attempting to keep myself from loving you. Gladly I failed. Then there was the question of your being taken away. I didn’t want to complicate things for you by telling you these things.”
“And now?”
“And now, I’m weary of keeping secrets from you. You’ve given yourself to me and in return I owe you all that I am.”
Sarah stared up into his eyes, the left one clouding up again as it seemed always to do when she stared too long. This time she did not look away. Instead, she waited for the clouds to clear and saw her standing with Jareth in an elegant gown in front of the castle. Jareth notice her hypnotic state, but said nothing and did not look away. “How do you do that?” she asked at last.
“Every fey has a deformity of some sort Sarah. Mine is this, one eye, my right eye is mortal. It dilates and constricts as do your eyes. It allows me to see fine, but does nothing particularly special otherwise. The other eye, the one you’re peering into now is fey. Fey eyes have the capacity to reveal great wisdom, hilarity or sorrow. They can show a compassion far beyond mortal understanding, but mostly they reflect the soul of the person looking into them.” He took her hand in his, “You see, my crystals are an extension of my being, just as you might turn them a certain way to see your dreams, this eye,” he motioned by jerking his head to the left, “will reveal your soul’s desire. What is it you see?”
“What I have always seen when I look at you,” she answered ambiguously before adding, “my destiny,” for clarification.
“Your destiny, then. What makes you say that?”
“Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered,” Jareth’s stomach quivered at her words, “we’ve fought our way back to one another.” The king released the air trapped in his lungs. “Doesn’t that say anything? That even realms apart we would find one another again someday when the timing was more perfect.”
“Volumes love, it says volumes.” As did the mighty yawn which forced Sarah’s jaws wide. “And now I think you’d better rest.”
“I don’t want to rest,” she disputed. “I want to keep talking. I want to figure out a way to stay with you, forever.”
If it were possible for a heart to burst with happiness, Jareth’s was on the verge. “Lovely as that sounds, ‘tis a decision only the Triumvirate can make. Let’s not concern ourselves with what we cannot control. Now to sleep with you, otherwise when morning comes you might not feel well enough to what was it the healer said consummate our feelings for one another.”
“I don’t want to wait that long,” Sarah taunted him with his own words.
Jareth smiled, “Want is not lacking in this room love.” Her palm still in his, he slyly lowered her hand over the bulge in his breeches, “But I must do what is best for the woman I love, even if it is hard.”
“Oh, it’s hard,” she chuckled. “Trust me.”
“With my life,” he said as he used his magic to sink them beneath the duvet.
***** ***** *****