Chapter Two
"You look lovely, Wife." Hidal stood before Sarah and lightly kissed her cheek. He smiled. "I have a gift for you, my dear."
She peered inside the open casket of carved wood. "It's exquisite."
Emeralds, around a chain of sparkling silver. Worth a ransom. She viewed it with ambivalence; she preferred something a little more modest, and this was a gaudy jewel.
"A necklace fit for a queen."
She obligingly pushed aside the few wayward strands of her upcast hair so he could place it around her. Father would be pleased; a gift so early in the marriage was surely a good sign. She fingered it. It would go into the trove of jewelry she rarely or never wore. But it was security, for what was given was hers for always.
"Do you like it?"
He waited for the appropriate answer. She gave it; a kiss upon the weathered cheek. Light and unaffected. He had been kind to her. It was more than she had hoped.
He grunted, seeing through her kiss. "It is not as suited to your beauty as I would imagine you'd like my dear, but these things as you know are necessary protocol."
"I know." The more he showered her with gifts, the more she would be accepted into society. The court would see she was favored, more than just a trophy in bed.
He lingered by her side, and he rested his hand upon her shoulder, a father to a favorite daughter. He had shown her more filial affection than her own father ever had. She smiled.
"I wish to introduce you to someone tonight, and I hope you will not be alarmed by the impropriety."
She waited, patient for the explanation he was preparing himself to give. "It is my son. My only one thus far." Her eyes widened. She knew this child was special, for a husband didn't flaunt their previous escapades before their wife. It just wasn't done, especially among the royals. She nodded.
"I wish you to treat him kindly, no matter what he may ask of you, my dear. Dance with him, enjoy yourself. If he wishes to escort you, let him." He paused. "I ask you, plainly, to do this for me, my little one."
She hooked her arm within her husband's. "Of course, my lord." Affection, freely given, for he was kind. Even in this unheard of precedent.
He grunted and flushed, lowering his voice. "Let him do as he pleases, my child, and you will be well compensated."
A small frown touched her face. "Of course."
"You don't understand fully, and how could you?" he said, fond as he looked at her. "Dare me this whim, child, for an old man to his bride."
She nodded, smiled. "Yes, my lord. Of course."
He patted her cheek. "You are a good girl. I am pleased with it."
He reached for her hand, tucking it between his forearm and elbow. "Let me escort you inside your ball, my dear. You are beauty itself, and I wish to show you off."
Jareth drank down another large goblet of wine and handed it off to a servant. His fifth one, but who was counting? Damn his father and his mercenary ways. He rued having to go along with the charade, but his father knew what incited him, and by the Unknown, he wanted that kingdom. Even if he had to bed a stiff, cold and parroting doll. He grabbed another goblet, downing that one as well.
His friend, Alastair hovered near, a buxom redhead on his arm. "Slow it, Stud. Or you won't be able to do anything at all tonight."
Jareth glared. Defiantly reaching for yet another goblet. "Functioning has never been an issue, and won't be now, either, you devil's son." He spat at his best friend, who laughed and led his partner into the next dance. Now that was a woman worth his kingdom, Jareth mused, eyeing the redhead with relish. Maybe another time, for she was clearly willing.
He stood next to a stone pillar, taking each opportunity that arose to flirt and cavort with any woman that passed his way. He knew he shouldn't be at a function like this; his father ruled outside the norm, however, and Jareth had to attend more often than not these large socials.
The lady of the evening had not arrived yet upon his father's arm. Then he saw her, dressed in a gown of citrine and her hair pulled back from a sensitive looking face. She was beautiful, as his father described. She didn't wear a mask; there was no need. The ball was in her honor, after all.
A hideous necklace bound around her slender neck. Jareth scoffed. So, she had been branded already. His father led her around the ballroom and introduced her with a proud smile on his face. The old man looked besotted. Disgusting.
Jareth snapped his fingers to a serving wench. "Bring another."
He lavished his brilliant and seductive smile on the woman as she drew near. Maybe he would choose her for later tonight, or maybe both women he had recently spoken to. He grinned. He wouldn't be beholden to any female; he rather liked his reclusive bachelor life. It was rarely boring and he never had to choose the same woman twice.
His father spied him from across the room, giving him a warning look. Jareth took a long swig and put the goblet down on the floor. He adjusted his waistcoat. Time for the show.
Dancers weaved in and out. Step, hop, turn. The mazurka was lively and in triple time moves, so Sarah had to concentrate slightly not to get out of alignment. Her husband didn't dance the fast ones, he said, and she was currently partnered by a medium height, ugly to the point of beauty, man named Alastair. He gripped her securely, hands braced, not missing a single beat. He smiled down at her, and she complied to return it.
Step, hop, turn. Change partners. Step, hop, turn.
She was laughing and flushed by the time the dance ended. Her partner bowed. A slow dance set started and Sarah looked for her husband. He was standing against the wall, conversing with a blond haired man, similar in height but with an ethereal beauty that was unparalleled, even in the Underground. Her husband lifted his arm and bade her come over.
Her partner offered to escort her. She took his forearm and threaded through the crowd. He paused before her husband, offering a bow.
"Your Majesty." He had a light, teasing voice. Her husband looked at him with disapproval.
"Lord Drem."
Her husband ignored her dance partner after that, turning to the man by his side and gesturing. "My dear," he said to Sarah. "I wish you to meet Jareth Atar, future Goblin King and Lord of the Labyrinth." He paused. "My son."
She inclined her head, acknowledging him. She refused to blink at the impropriety of meeting the man. She gave her hand for the young lord to kiss.
The man skimmed her knuckles with his warm mouth. His palm trembled a little as he grasped her lightly. Her eyes flicked up.
She startled, her gaze taken by his unusual eyes, one largely dilated with a soft ring of color, the other pure icy blue. He grinned at her observance. Leaning forward, too close, he whispered into her ear.
"It's part of having a human mother. Different, aren't they?"
She shrugged, unwilling to be rude but not caring for the man. Jareth. He gave her an uneasy feeling, and she couldn't erase the fluster he had created just by leaning into her.
Her husband smiled at her. "Well, my dear, now that you two are acquainted, I'm going to retire for the evening. Let my son escort you the rest of the night if you please."
She nodded, wanting to refuse but compelled to obey. Her husband said, in one last parting instruction, "Remember, my child, what we talked about the other evening."
She smiled, false. "Yes, my lord." She had to listen to this man before her, no matter what he demanded. Her husband commanded it.