CHAPTER TWO
Of Riddles and Puzzles
Arm in arm with Elizabeth, Sarah strolled the hills behind the Ingleby home. After her surprise encounter with Edmund Locksley, she had been certain to take a companion with her on her daily walks. Sarah missed the seclusion, the opportunity to mediate while in the fresh air, but she feared crossing paths with another Fae—one who was unfamiliar with either the Kingstons or the Williams. Such an immortal would have no constraints on taking liberties should he choose to do so.
The snow had melted weeks before, giving way to the rain, which left the ground damp and muddy. Greenery sprouted in the meadows and on previously bare branches, announcing the onset of spring. Sarah enjoyed the loamy aroma of new earth as she inhaled deeply. It invigorated her senses, made her feel incandescent.
She glanced at her cousin and found Elizabeth not as pleased to be in the fresh air, but she made no complaint. Sarah smiled, feeling grateful for her dear, stalwart friend. Elizabeth's patience and undying support was an anchor for Sarah's mercurial demeanor.
"What news from your father?" Elizabeth asked as they carefully stepped around a puddle. "You received a letter two days ago but made no mention of its contents."
"He is to arrive soon—perhaps today, even." Sarah patted her cousin's arm. "He approves of your visiting us in Laborintus and has decided your company will help speed my adjustment to a new mother and brother." Sarah smiled. "You may stay as long as you wish—or as long as I wish. I'm certain you will grow weary of my morose companionship long before I no longer have need of yours."
Elizabeth shook her head, laughing. "Must you always be so dramatic, Sarah? I have little doubt I will find my visit quite agreeable. There is so much to do in Laborintus!"
"Elizabeth, you are the paragon of enthusiasm, and I would have you no other way," Sarah replied. "Laborintus, however, is not so diverting as Aulderon."
"Oh, but I am certain it is a good deal more diverting than the country." Elizabeth's expression turned wistful. "The Fae walk the streets of your city. Here, we have little to entice the interest of an immortal."
A baritone voice cut in. "I would disagree."
Elizabeth let out a squeak of surprise. Turning, the women found Edmund Locksley leaning against a tree two paces behind. Elizabeth gave Sarah's arm a squeeze—likely out of delight rather than fear—as the handsome Fae straightened and made his way toward the women.
"This immortal has found plenty in the country to interest him," he said, his green eyes on Sarah as he bowed. "I thought I might find you here, Miss Williams. And I see you have wisely taken a companion this time—quite a lovely one, in fact."
"Mr. Locksley, this is my cousin, Elizabeth Ingleby," Sarah said.
"Enchanted, Miss Ingleby." Edmund took Elizabeth's hand, placing a delicate kiss upon it. "If I had known mortals could produce such striking specimens, I should have spent more time in their company."
Elizabeth's cheeks flushed with the compliment. "You are too kind."
Sarah drew near her cousin, concerned Elizabeth would too easily fall prey to such flowery speech. "Be careful of his silver tongue. The Fae have had centuries with which to perfect the art of flattery, and Mr. Locksley appears to be especially practiced. Now that he knows of your existence, you are not safe out of doors without an escort."
Elizabeth furrowed her brow. "Surely you are being too severe on our new acquaintance. It cannot be true that Fae are so uncivil as to steal away with a mortal on whim." She gave Edmund an imploring gaze. "Mr. Locksley, please disabuse us of this myth."
He grinned, baring the pointed teeth of his kind. "Unfortunately your cousin speaks the truth, Miss Ingleby—though mortal kidnappings occur less frequently than she implies. Miss Williams was right to warn you, however. You are an alluring creature, and your safety in this countryside is only guaranteed with me."
Elizabeth's blush deepened. "You flatter me, sir."
"But of course. I would not want to be found out of practice." Edmund winked at Sarah. "What a fascinating contrast the pair of you make—not only in appearance but in disposition as well."
Sarah nodded, resuming her walk. "Yes, you are right. Elizabeth is far too naïve while I am far too wise."
"Sarah!" Elizabeth gasped.
"And what experiences have you had, Miss Williams, which have made you thus?" asked Edmund, his smile growing rakish. "Surely you are not wise in the way I might find exciting."
Sarah glared at him, her cheeks burning at his cavalier language. "I would thank you to refrain from such salacious comments in the presence of my cousin's genteel nature."
"And yet you are unconcerned for your own nature?" He raised a brow with mock severity. "How telling."
Sarah's indignation rose at the implication. "My virtue is intact, sir! I speak only of my association with your kind in appropriate venues. I have learned immortals lack any decency in conversation—unconstrained by the propriety to which human men must adhere."
Edmund clasped his hand over his breast, stumbling as if Sarah had shot him with an arrow. "You injure us with your ruthless criticism. I am stunned to hear such censure from one who has Fae heritage, herself." His expression was amused rather than offended. "Propriety can grow tedious over the years, Miss Williams. Live for a few centuries and you will discover the truth of my words."
He fell silent, leaving Sarah to ponder his perspective. Would she feel the same disdain for decorum if she had been born a full Fae? The thought made her shudder. Sarah might be freer of speech than other young women, but rules and laws served a purpose. Without them, society would decay under the base instincts of humans and Fae alike, making them no different than the unthinking animals populating the countryside.
"I must apologize," Edmund said. "It was not my intention to ruin your promenade on this splendid day with debate. I admit I cannot resist the opportunity to fence words with one as shrewd as you, Miss Williams." He faced Sarah, walking backward in front of her. "You must promise me this: that I may join you for your first meeting with Lord Jareth. His poor reaction to your wit would certainly be the greatest entertainment I will have for eons."
"You would tease his Lordship?" Sarah asked, raising her brows. She enjoyed making light of dear friends when the occasion called for it, but to mock a ruler was an entirely different matter.
"Every moment, if I had my way." Edmund flashed a dazzling smile before returning to her side. "Do not pity the man for he's earned it."
"If Lord Kingston has seen fit to give Lord Jareth rule of the Labyrinth, surely he is worthy of some respect, Mr. Locksley—no matter how unseemly his character may appear." Sarah afforded him a stern gaze.
Edmund laughed at her severe expression. "Your sense of morality is terribly quaint, Miss Williams! You fret over nothing, I assure you."
Elizabeth intervened before Sarah could further rebuke the Fae. "Will you tell us of the Kingston siblings, Mr. Locksley? I understand you are close with one of the brothers. Is it the younger?"
Edmund's eyes glinted with an impish light. "Shall we make a game of it? Perhaps I will tell you a quality, and you will have to guess which of the three it describes. For example, one of the Kingstons is a great admirer of fashion and never wears the same dress more than once."
"Lady Kingston, of course!" Elizabeth exclaimed.
Sarah laughed, having already forgotten her earlier umbrage. "This will be a quick game, indeed, if your hints continue to be so obvious."
"Hm." Edmund frowned. "You are quite right, Miss Williams. If we remove Lady Kingston from the game, there might be a greater challenge." He glanced at Elizabeth. "I will assuage your curiosity, Miss Ingleby, with regard to the fair daughter of Lord Kingston, and tell you she embodies those qualities which belong to the highest of Fae women—beauty, geniality, cultivated in the arts, well-spoken. All this and more. She's rather ordinary, to be frank."
"Ordinary!" Sarah stared at him, astonished. "I wonder what passes for extraordinary among your kind, then."
"When I see it, I shall inform you immediately, Miss Williams," he replied with a nonchalant wave of his hand. "Let us revise our game further. Instead of just one trait, I will delineate each of the brothers in detail—omitting, perhaps, a few qualities in order to keep the mystery—and you will guess which of the two has been my long-time companion. The game ends when Miss Ingleby's house is in view. Are we in agreement?"
"Oh, yes!" Elizabeth clapped her hands. "I do so love games."
"As do I." Edmund grinned. "And so we begin: one brother was taken with the drink for a time. He has also been, in the past, indiscreet with the fairer sex—more often than even prurient Fae decorum allows. His temper can be quite volatile, and over the years his outbursts have estranged him from a few of his acquaintances. He unleashes his acerbic wit on all when ill-tempered—"
"Mr. Locksley," Elizabeth interrupted, "you speak as though he were the worst sort of man! Is there nothing to redeem him?"
Edmund shrugged. "I suppose he does sound rather dreadful. But allow me to continue—your house will be upon us shortly." He cleared his throat. "One of the brothers is an accomplished musician and singer. In fact, it has been said he does not need the magic of Fae song in order to lure a mortal—the sound of his voice alone is enough. He is the cleverer of the two brothers. Although, at times he has used that sagacious mind of his for mischief—the harmless kind, of course. And while he does not easily confer his friendship, once given, his loyalty is set in stone."
Here Edmund paused in his speech, and after a time, Sarah thought him finished. "From your report, I would surmise the latter brother is your friend. However, I fear you do the first injustice by refusing to share his better qualities. I cannot believe a son of Lord Kingston could be so reprehensible."
Edmund rubbed his chin. "But what if I have only described one man, instead of two?"
"How can that be?" Elizabeth asked, her brow furrowing. "The qualities you named first are in discord with those you named second."
"I think you will find, Miss Ingleby, such dichotomies of character exist among all my people—and among yours as well." Edmund clasped his hands behind his back, his expression growing somber. "We each have sides both light and dark. This phenomenon is more pronounced within the Fae only because we have had eons to expand those natural inclinations."
He sighed. "This smacks of serious conversation, and I strive to avoid such at all times. Perhaps, Miss Williams, you could be entreated to engage in another battle of wits?"
"I'm flattered you consider me a worthy foe, Mr. Locksley."
"More than worthy—far more. My friend's father has not done you justice in his letters, if I may be so bold." He glanced up the path. "Ah, it seems our interlude is at an end."
Sarah followed his gaze and saw the Ingleby home ahead.
"Please, Mr. Locksley, join us for tea," Elizabeth said. "You haven't told us which brother is your friend."
"Perhaps another time, Miss Ingleby." Edmund gave them a deep, flourishing bow. "Kingston will be expecting me, and I find myself anxious to torment him with news of my second encounter with the indomitable Miss Williams. He will be beside himself with envy."
He kissed Elizabeth's hand. "Should you attend the equinox ball at Lord Kingston's, you must save a dance for me." He kissed Sarah's hand next. "And you, Miss Williams, must save two."
He vanished before either woman could reply.
"Dear cousin, I believe you are too harsh in your opinion of the Fae," Elizabeth said, linking her arm with Sarah's. "Mr. Locksley seems quite affable."
"And I fear you are too kind, Elizabeth," Sarah replied. "However, for your sake, I shall give Mr. Locksley the benefit of the doubt."
Elizabeth beamed. "I'm glad for it. I believe he is quite taken with you."
Sarah denied it, but the thought took root in her mind. For the first time in her life, she found the prospect of a Fae suitor not altogether unpleasant.
Sarah rested her head against Elizabeth's shoulder on the ride back to Laborintus. Her father sat across from them, looking as though he wished to speak but uncertain where to begin. Sarah's reunion with him had been awkward, filled with the niceties of conversation with neither mentioning the new Mrs. Williams.
As the landscape glided past the carriage windows, Sarah thought on the alterations she would find when she returned to the Williams' estates. How odd that her old life was gone now, swept away in the three months she was in the country. Her heart stirred with conflicting emotions. She wanted happiness for her father but not at the expense of her own. It was a selfish thought, and she knew it, but it prevailed as she considered all the sacrifices she would have to make to accommodate her new mother.
Oh, why couldn't things remain the same!
At least the change in the Labyrinth would have little effect on her. She could take small comfort in that. As long as her father had employment, it mattered not which Lord Kingston ruled the goblins.
"Uncle," Elizabeth said, uncomfortable with the silence, "did Sarah tell you of our new acquaintance, Mr. Locksley?"
Robert looked relieved to have the tension broken. "She did not. Who is this Mr. Locksley?"
"I had hoped you would know more of him, since he is a friend to the Kingston family." Elizabeth gave an exaggerated sigh of disappointment. "He says he is close to one of the brothers but refused to tell us which."
"Ah, a Fae, is he?" Robert nodded as if Edmund's reticence were evidence of his immortal heritage. "They do enjoy their riddles. I have very little knowledge of Lord Kingtson's children, however—even less so of their companions."
Elizabeth slumped against the carriage wall. "I had so hoped to solve the mystery before the ball."
"I wonder what brought the immortal to Merton, particularly if he is from Aulderon," Robert mused to himself.
Sarah had not considered it before, but her father had a point. Edmund's presence in the northern country was unusual, though she did not know why the immortals avoided it. Sarah recalled the ancient tales her nursemaid whispered under the moonlight. There had been one about the thousand-year war between the elves and the Fae. Had the northern lands belonged the elves once? Were the Fae averse to cross the unseen border even though the elves had long since sailed the Great Divide?
"Perhaps my cousin was the reason for his visits." Elizabeth nudged Sarah. "He seemed to take great pleasure in her company."
"Hush!" Sarah sat up, feeling the color rise to her cheeks.
"What is this?" Robert kept his expression placid, but Sarah knew him well enough to see the uneasy set of his eyes.
"Nothing, Father," Sarah replied. "Elizabeth is mistaken. Mr. Locksley happened upon me while he was out for a ride. He did not know me by appearance but recognized my name when I gave it—Lord Kingston has written of us to his children. That is all."
"His second visit was far from happenstance, Sarah." Elizabeth grinned. "He was looking for you."
"But for what purpose?" Sarah turned to her father. "I am certain his intentions toward me are only those of a Fae examining a curiosity, nothing more." She offered a weak smile, hoping that would close the matter. She had yet to ascertain if Elizabeth's claims contained any truth. And if they did, Sarah was unsure if she would welcome the attentions of Edmund or not.
Robert sighed. "While I strongly disapprove of Mr. Locksley approaching you without an introduction, if his conduct was proper, I will be satisfied."
The trio fell back into silence, and Sarah was grateful. She turned her gaze back to the scenery, setting aside all thoughts of stepmothers and roguish immortals. Before long, she found her eyes closing of their own accord, and she fell fast asleep.
She dreamt of the Masque, of pressing through the throng of finely-garbed guests as they danced around her. Their masks were hideous replications of goblins—gnarled and twisted in nightmarish contrast to the jovial celebration of summer solstice. Grasping hands captured her arms, pulling her in opposing directions.
"Release me!"
Her cry was met with laughter, even as her mysterious captors let go of her. At every turn, men and women blocked her path, as if they found great sport in keeping her from escaping. She beseeched them to let her pass, to let her rest, but they ignored her, urging her instead toward the center of the meadow. Fear seized her as the revelers in grotesque masks pressed her backward, laughing and screaming in wicked delight. She threw up her hands to ward them off.
Suddenly, the air grew quiet but for the sound of music. Sarah lowered her arms and saw the mob receding, their expressions sobered as all eyes were fixed behind her. Her heart beating a rapid tattoo, Sarah turned, afraid to discover her rescuer.
Before her stood a masked man with disheveled blond hair, his gloved hand stretched toward her. His attire was no less resplendent than the other celebrants, but neither was it more noteworthy. What stood him apart—other than the simple silver mask he wore—was his fulgent aura, marking him as a powerful Fae.
He waited in silence, holding forth his hand as if he knew she would take it without question. She sensed he was a dangerous being; his eyes seemed capable of delving into her very soul. She trembled under his piercing gaze, even as she drew closer. When she placed her hand in his, the music transformed from a sprightly tune to something haunting and slow.
He pulled her to him, placing his other hand on her hip in the manner of the new, indecent dance the Fae had begun to favor recently. Sarah blushed at the intimacy of his touch as he led her in drowsy circles across the grassy plain. He spoke not a word as they danced, his intense eyes always on hers.
The song ended, leaving utter stillness to pervade the air. Sarah shivered when she realized they were alone. Her companion stroked her cheek as he removed her mask. She willed herself to retreat, to demand he arrest his forward behavior, but neither her tongue nor her feet would obey. She could do nothing but watch as he drew his finger across her lips, awakening unfamiliar sensations within her. He grinned before leaning down—
Sarah woke with a gasp, her heartbeat a gallop of horses. She brought a quaking hand to her mouth.
"Are you all right, Sarah?" Elizabeth asked. Both she and Robert watched Sarah with concern.
She smiled in a poor attempt to appear unaffected. "It was nothing—merely a strange dream."
Instead of appeasing her father, her words seemed to give Robert greater worry. "Your mother was beset with strange dreams. They were…" he paused, glancing at Elizabeth, "…a burden at times."
Sarah inferred that he wished to say more but in private. She reached across the carriage and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "I assure you I am well, Father."
She was not well, however. She had never had such a vivid and distressing dream before, and she feared this would only be the first of many. From her father's comment, she believed she might be experiencing the onset of her inheritance from her mother—a gift from her Fae lineage.
"Oh!" Elizabeth exclaimed, startling Sarah. "Is that the Labyrinth? It's so vast!"
Outside the carriage windows, a large citadel sat in the center of a daunting maze of stone walls—so massive it filled the valley below. At the peak of each tower, a breeze whipped red banners embroidered with the Kingston family crest. Sarah regarded the familiar image of a black shield with a golden lion's head with a sense of homecoming.
"Uncle, however do you manage to get to the castle? Is there a secret path?" Elizabeth glowed with excitement.
Robert shook his head. "Lord Kingston summons me with magic. Only runners enter the Labyrinth—and the creatures that make it their home."
"Runners? Then the stories are true!" Elizabeth turned back to the window, frowning. "Mortals do wish away children—and have to run the Labyrinth as punishment. How barbaric!"
Sarah lifted a brow. "Which? The mortals who wish a child gone or their reparation for calling upon the ancient magic?"
"The former, of course." Elizabeth pulled her cloak tighter around her as if to ward off a chill. "I once thought my nursemaid's tales to be greatly exaggerated—I am disinclined to believe the worst in anyone, as you are well aware. That someone could wish away an innocent..." Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears.
Sarah wrapped her arms around Elizabeth. "There is still much good in the world, sweet cousin. Do not let a few fools ruin your sanguine vision of humanity. You must be the light to counteract my rather grey proclivities. I'm counting on it."
Elizabeth laughed in spite of her agitation. "Oh, Sarah. I adore you, you know."
Sarah smiled, cheered to see her loved one in good spirits again. "I do."
For the rest of the journey, Sarah encouraged the conversation toward the upcoming ball. Though she was not at all enthused by the prospect of another Fae celebration—certainly not after her disturbing dream—the topic would brighten her cousin's mood further. After witnessing Elizabeth lose hope in the goodness of people—even for a moment—Sarah was no longer in a hurry to dispel any of her cousin's beliefs, no matter how fallacious they might be. The world would do the job soon enough, and for a little while, Sarah wanted to cling to Elizabeth's steady optimism.
A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Any thoughts? How do you picture Edmund? Elizabeth? I promise you will see Jareth very soon!