63
Chapter 9.
"I'm not sure Mikkal is going to learn anything in the custody of the Oak King or the Holly King," Devon, as usual, was in attendance of Jareth. "Especially not in one year."
"He'd better. You know as well as any Oberon will exile him the next time anyone brings a complaint against him," Jareth stated. "The Kings of Oak and Holly will not tolerate Mikkal's sulks, nor are they likely to spoil the brat further. I'm not sure which part of this angers me more. His threat to burn Dickon out, or the boy's continued insistence he is just following my lead!" Jareth's mismatched eyes were dark with anger.
"I notice you don't seem all that upset by his treatment of the girl," Devon commented.
"He wants her, he's going to try influencing her," Jareth shrugged. "I did much the same with Sarah, once she was in my kingdom. But I have never stolen a child or a woman!"
"True. There are plenty of sins I could lay at your door, but that isn't one of them," Devon nodded. He got away with it, because he and Jareth had been friends from childhood, not that they'd been allowed to spend much time together. Devon, the younger son of Duke Thierry, had entered Jareth's service by choice.
"That's not amusing, Devon," Jareth glared briefly at his friend. His entire expression altered when he spotted two cloaked figures in the Winter Garden. "Sarah." As if she'd heard his whisper – and Devon was sure she probably had – Sarah paused, turned, and looked directly at them. Jareth's smile widened. "We are summoned, my friend."
Devon was struck again how tiny the human girl, Megan, was. She barely came up to his collarbone, and in his estimation, didn't weigh much more than a child. But there was nothing childish about the curves, currently encased in a gown of deep blue wool and wrapped in a cape of rose wool lined with pale rose silk and trimmed with grey fur.
"You look a damn sight better than when last we saw you, Megan," Jareth commented when they reached the women.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Megan inclined her head slightly. The hood of her cloak shadowed her face. "Captain Devon, I did not have the chance to thank you for your help. I do appreciate you not letting me address the High King from my hands and knees. Even more, I thank you for not letting Prince Mikkal so much as touch me, although I am afraid I did not make a very good dance partner."
"Both services were my pleasure, Lady Megan, although I will freely admit thwarting Prince Mikkal was perhaps the greater of the two," Devon bowed, wondering what colour her eyes were. "As for the dance… we had no music, and you were not feeling your best. Another evening, I am sure you would make quite a graceful partner." Megan turned slightly, her face still mostly hidden by her hood.
"Perhaps sir," she allowed. "But I confess I don't know the steps."
"Easily enough learned," Sarah said brightly, taking Jareth's arm. "We have an excellent dance instructor at home. Jareth insisted I learn, and now Claire and Toby are learning."
"So, have you agreed to be our guest then?" Jareth inquired.
"In a manner of speaking, Your Majesty," Megan nodded. "Queen Sarah has suggested I may be able to help with the education of your children."
"Oh?" Jareth quirked an eyebrow at Sarah.
"Megan has a very classical education," Sarah nodded, beginning to move again, and pulling Jareth along with her. Megan and Devon fell in behind them.
"I get the feeling you do not care much for Prince Mikkal, Captain Devon," Megan commented after several moments of silence between them.
"No, I don't," Devon admitted. "He was a spoiled brat and a trouble maker as a child, and he's yet to grow up much at all. To my mother's lasting despair, I have always preferred Jareth's company, even when he's in a bad mood."
"With such a beautiful wife, I can't imagine the Goblin King having many of those."
"His moods have improved since their union," Devon told her. "He's still got a rather thankless job, keeping the Goblins in line. Think of a hedgehog or a porcupine under attack, or a bear with a sore tooth and an empty belly, and you have Jareth in a mood." Megan giggled, and covered her mouth with one hand to stifle the sound. Devon realized her arm was bandaged again, and frowned slightly. Why hadn't Oberon's Court Healer, a marvellously talented Fey named Bercheron, been able to heal it completely? He didn't ask her, however. "Other than your somewhat precipitous entrance, and Mikkal's brief, unpleasant appearance, I hope you enjoy your stay here."
"It's quite beautiful, but almost too beautiful for me," Megan sighed. "Then again, if one is going to be mad, one may as well enjoy it."
"Mad?"
"I keep telling myself none of this could possibly be real," she explained.
"Even with the pain from your arm, and all the unpleasant attention from Mikkal?"
"I was in a horrific accident, Captain," she reminded. "If I am, in fact, in a hospital bed at home, I've no doubt there would be pain involved. Mikkal's attention could merely be my mind dealing with all the things I'll never get a chance to experience. Or, he could actually be death itself."
"I'm not sure Arawn would care for that hypothesis," Devon said wryly.
"The Lord of Annwn," Megan recognised the name. "But Annwn isn't quite the Land of the Dead, is it?"
"Part of it is the Land of Shades," Devon connected. "These days, that section is not as well-populated as it has been in the past. For the human soul to journey there requires belief in things most humans no longer even think about."
"Such as?"
"Reincarnation, the Old Gods, the Fey realms themselves," he replied.
"Interesting," Megan sounded thoughtful. "In short, those who journey to Annwn are Pagan."
"Yes."
Megan said nothing more, but her mind mulled over the possibilities. Perhaps of all the Fey, Arawn could help her get home. Or end the madness she was experiencing. She would have to inquire about getting to Annwn, of course. Or ask if Arawn was present at Court.
'She's quiet, isn't she?' Jareth glanced over his shoulder, opting to use mind-speech with Sarah.
'I think she is in awe of you, and not quite sure how to deal with Devon,' Sarah responded in kind.
'I understand the first half of that. I am awe-inspiring,' Jareth smirked. 'But what the devil is her problem with Devon? He was her knight errant in Court.'
'And she considers him very handsome,' Sarah nodded slightly. 'She's young, Jareth. She's facing a whole new world. And Devon isn't exactly the boy next door, or the guy that sits near her in class. He's a military man, and Fey besides. It's very confusing for her.'
'He keeps trying to get her to look up. I think he's trying to discover the colour of her eyes,' Jareth noted.
'Let him find out for himself. It's half the fun,' Sarah smiled.
'You little minx! You're playing match maker!' Jareth accused.
'No, I'm just occasionally nudging things in the proper direction,' Sarah stated. 'I don't think they actually need much help, just opportunity.'
'I'm going to have to give a ball, aren't I?' Jareth sighed. He hated State affairs. His last Chancellor had a bad habit of ignoring his Goblin folk, or indeed, any non-Fey. Garthon hadn't even paid much attention to the likes and dislikes of his own king!
'Oh, just a small one. I'll see to it,' Sarah promised. 'He is your best friend, Jareth. And she needs help adjusting. Besides, Toby's birthday is coming up, and Claire's is two weeks after his. You'll be wanting to celebrate those things.'
'Just try to keep it less…stifling than the last thing Garthon planned,' he requested.
"Are you suggesting I am anything like that narrow-minded, high-handed…" Sarah began aloud, sputtering in anger.
"Perish the thought, my Sarah," Jareth drew her closer to his side. "Or don't. We could have a rousing good row, then kiss and make up. I do like that part."
"Jareth, you are incorrigible!"
"I thought you figured that out years ago, Sarah?" Devon asked mildly.
"You can be replaced, Devon," Jareth growled.
"Not a chance! No one but Sarah and I would put up with you," Devon shrugged casually. "Not for long, anyhow."
"I hate it when he gets smug," Jareth complained.
"That's surprising, when you are generally so smug yourself," Sarah teased. Jareth scooped up a handful of snow and shoved it down the front of Sarah's gown. "You'll pay for that Jareth!" She darted off the path. A moment later, a snowball landed directly against Jareth's chest.
"Ah, it's war, then!" Jareth laughed. While he was scooping up more snow, a second snowball caught him at the back of his neck. "Wench! I see I need a shield." He grabbed Megan around the waist and set her between himself and Sarah.
"Hiding behind the skirts of an injured female? I don't think so!" Megan darted away, taking refuge behind a silver birch tree. "Fire at will, Sarah! He's your headache!" Devon, grinning, stood back to watch.
"You're not helping, Devon!" Jareth fired off two snowballs in rapid succession. One caught Sarah's shoulder and the other splattered against Megan's tree.
"I didn't start this," Devon pointed out. "And since when have you needed help in a snowball fight against two girls?" Jareth started to answer, and got hit with two snowballs at once.
"Since both of these girls have such damn good aim!"
"And what was that about two girls?" Sarah demanded. "You didn't even try to keep him from using Megan as a shield!"
"That's right, he didn't," Megan paused, and changed the direction of her throw. The snowball caught Devon in the gut. "Must adjust for height and distance!"
They were having a grand time, laughing and flinging snowballs. Until Megan saw the rose petals slipping out of the sleeve of her gown to flutter to the snowy ground. With a frightened cry, she cradled her injured arm and bolted.