Chapter Four
"How was your evening, young one?" Her husband eyed a heaping plate of food; his question, polite. Curious in his intensity.
Sarah sipped at her water, trying to skirt the issue. She knew what he referred, but she was not stupid, to admit she had blatantly disobeyed her husband. "Interesting, my lord."
"Oh? How so?"
"I got an instant migraine the moment you left." Her tone was coy.
"But you enjoyed yourself?" She nodded. He continued. "And how did you find my son? Delightful, isn't he?"
She held back a choke. "He, also, is interesting."
His eyes narrowed responsively. "So, my dear. Anything eventful happen?"
"No. I danced. I stayed only a little while longer, and then retired for the night."
Hidal the Red gave a heaving sigh. "I am sorry to hear that you weren't feeling well. It was your ball, after all."
"I enjoyed the dancing."
"So you have alluded."
He ate with gusto, his questioning finished for the moment. She picked at her plate. She did have a headache, more so than the night before. And her headache's name was Jareth of Atar. A shame, that she would have to run into him again before the day was through. Her husband wanted to go riding and had invited his son along with them. It seemed she couldn't avoid the man.
Back in her room, her maid Lilith prattled about her new riding outfit, shamrock green and lined with gold velvet. Rich, luxurious, made to wear once and then discard. Such a shame it had such wasteful materials for the costume; Sarah had never been one to cast aside useful clothing.
"Such a beauty you are, your Majesty," Lilith said. There was very little coy and prompted propriety between them; she had been raised to serve Sarah since they were very small and had little boundary. She smiled, her teeth hidden behind a devious and knowing smile. "And how are you enjoying married life?"
Sarah reached for her ivory-handled brush. "It is better than I expected."
"His Majesty is easy on you. It is fortunate you have a kind man for a husband." Lilith narrowed her eyes, watching. "A shame he is not as prolific as we imagined."
Sarah sat down her brush. "What do you mean?"
Her maid laughed. "There is little that servants do not know." She took up the brush and started on Sarah's long hair. "You have still not tasted the joys of the marriage bed. We all know it."
Sarah flinched. "What are you talking about? I had my wedding night."
"You did. An uneventful one, I am told." Sarah frowned. Her maid continued in explanation. "You still have your virgin status."
"No, that's not true." Sarah shook her head. "I did as you said. I laid there, he visited me, and...touched me. I am married."
Lilith sighed. "Such innocence. I rue that you had to stay so. There are so many delightful pleasures of the flesh, but you are surely denied it until you have been broken."
Sarah flushed. "I did as was bade me. What is this talk?"
"You have not been truly married, as yet. Your Highness, you haven't had it consummated." Plain talk, unappreciated. "Enough talk. You are angry, and rightly so. I shouldn't speak of such things."
"We have always been honest with each other. You are my only true friend, Lil."
"I know. Another shame." She changed the subject. "I heard you met the bastard son. He is the talk of the courts, and so very luscious, is he not?"
Sarah paused in thought, paradox running ramrod. Beautiful, yes. Disturbing, also. She shrugged. "He is interesting."
"Come." Lilith laughed. "You must imagine what he is like in bed." She paused. "I do. Those wonderful thighs, that jawline." She grunted. "But he hates to share and refuses to do so. I can't recall a single time he has ever been with one of his father's servants. A shame."
"Lil!" Sarah laughed, uncomfortable. "You know I do not think of those things. He is my son, or by name, he is."
"Well," the maid said, "I would be one bad mother, then, for what I am thinking." She laughed a bawdy chuckle.
Sarah smirked. "I danced with him. He is a pleasant partner."
"So...he can maneuver, you say?"
Sarah laughed. "Lil, you are too much. All you think about-"
"It's worth thinking about. Again," she looked at Sarah pointedly. "A shame."
Sarah stood, smoothing her skirts. "I will be sure to remove that image from my mind today, as we are all going riding together this afternoon."
Lilith brightened. "Really." She looked Sarah up and down. "Then I will add a touch of rouge to your lips. It's never too late to accentuate the positives."
There were four in their entourage: Hidal, her husband; Alastair, Lord Drem; Jareth of Atar, and Sarah, riding his Majesties' best horses. Her husband denied having his groomsmen ride along. He prided himself on his mount and refused servants while he rode. Sarah had recently learned horseback riding, as it was a prerequisite for marriage. She struggled to look complacent and bored, her back too stiff and her lines tight. She had little experience, even in this.
What Lilith said reverberated through her mind, busy bees in a swarm, scattered and erratic. Untouched. A virgin. What use was she if she couldn't be a proper wife? She stole a glance over to her husband. He caught her gaze and smiled. So very kind. She had been fortunate to be wed to such a man.
The forest hushed as they rode through, birds leaving their roosts and wild animals bolting off into the distance as they came past. It was dark, molten colors of orange and browns, the leaf of life masked in the black canopy.
The Dark Forest, home of the Forgotten, land of the Lost. No one lived within its confines. None that would admit allegiance to the king, anyway. There were rumors that rebels lived deep in the woods, unbidden to anyone. But if the king felt fear by them, he didn't let on, and neither did the other men. They talked conversationally, few words, but enough to ward off intruders.
Hidal suddenly reached for her reins. The men had stopped talking, each in silence like the forest around them. Her horse paused.
"Go with Jareth, Sarah," her husband said, soft. She frowned, a questioning within her raised eyebrows. He handed the reins to his son. "Go." He repeated the command, urgent.
Without hesitancy, the other man took her reins, gathering them in his gloved palms. She shot a glare at him.
"I can ride on my own." She whispered so that her husband wouldn't hear, reprimanding her for her disobedience.
"No." He added, after a pause, "It's better if we go fast, and you aren't expert enough for a run."
"Listen to Jareth, Sarah, and take care." Hidal gave a fond glance. He gestured to Lord Drem, who nodded.
Jareth instructed, "Hold on to the pommel, and don't let go."
She obeyed. But not because she wanted to; the horse was already off to a canter, and correctly, the speed was something she couldn't handle. In moments, the horses were running, deeper into the forest.
"Where are we going?" she said, shouting as the trees and shrubs blurred around them, the horses sweating from exertion.
"Quiet." The blond man grimaced, then answered, ignoring his own advice. "The king's lodge. It's over a mile from here. It'll be safe."
"Safe from what?"
"I said, quiet."
Sarah gripped the pummel tighter, as much from anger as from fear. She knew what the lodge was. A refuge in distress. They were escaping something, something terrible and beyond the capabilities of three armed men. Her face blanched.
"You'll be okay. I'll protect you."
She hissed, "I thought you said to be quiet."
"That was because I don't want to hear you caterwaul over our destination. We are almost there, and away from danger."
"What about-"
"My father will be fine. He is an expert huntsman."
"Better than you, I am assuming."
A tilted eyebrow raised further. "No one in this kingdom is better a huntsman than I. Now hush."
"You are a beast." She spat at him, her words harsh.
"I will be no better than a beast if you continue to disobey me." They slowed to a calmer pace and he eyed her, his gaze bland.
Then, without further provocation, he reached out his arm and wrapped it around her waist, dragging her in front of him on his saddle. She squirmed, outraged.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting very bothered by you. Stop moving."
He took one arm and secured it tighter around her body. The other let go of the reins of her horse, smacking the rump of the animal, sending it away.
"Don't! I need her."
"You need to shut up. I won't repeat it again, and should I have to, you will see how very bothered by you I am." He muttered, his tone peeved, "You should be thankful they haven't caught up with us the way you ride that horse."
She pressed her lips tight. The pummel dug into her belly and his chest into her back. Suddenly she reckoned why Lilith had been so impressed by the man, the evidence of him snuggled against her body. She flushed, realizing she would have to be very wary of the man, as he found no difficulty in bringing her close.
She gripped the riding horn that poked her. She shuddered. Rain was starting to fall on them, a slight patter and then more insistent. She chilled as her dress stuck to her body, her legs exposed from mid-thigh down.
She tossed back over her shoulder, "We are nearly there, aren't we?"
"Almost. Come, it's not so bad, riding with me is it?" he teased.
She grunted, biting her tongue from telling him just what she thought of the close proximity. He broke his own rules about talking. She wished she had a riding crop similar as to what he carried so that she could sting him where his legs brushed hers. She felt discomfort, and not all of it came from the rough way they rode through the woods.
They broke through the bramble and the trees, and in the small clearing, a cottage built of stone and wood, with a slate roof. The king's hunting lodge: a place of privacy, refuge, and being forgotten.
She flinched as Jareth slid off the horse and reached for her waist. "Come into my arms," he said. "I've got you."
She ignored his watchful eyes as she struggled to remain ladylike and avoid his touch. "I can do it." She swung her leg over the wide back of the black horse and hovered for a moment.
"He's rather tall. Are you sure?"
"I can do it, I said."
He held his hands up in acquiescence. "Okay, fine. Fall."
She gritted her teeth, her jaw tight. Falling is the last thing she would do. Hit him with pleasure, more likely. She leaped to the ground, stumbling back as her feet touched the sodden grass. She hid a squeal of triumph and pain. The horse had been tall; he was right.
He tied the horse to a nearby tree after removing its saddle and took her arm, leading her to the door of the cottage. He swung the door open, nearly pushing her in, and then the door shut behind them with a bang.
Closed in, with Jareth of Atar. Sarah couldn't think of a worse fate.