One Feather 5

Necessary Shades

Somehow, although everyday felt like at least two lifetimes, Sarah's junior year of college, nearly her first year as Goblin sovereign, flew by faster than she ever would have imagined. A collection of forty-odd feathers adorned her desk, small tokens and rewards for facing difficulties. Each one attached itself to a memory, giving her comfort and pride.

During the first days of summer vacation without the heat of school, Sarah realized she'd missed several slow changes in herself. Though she managed to spend an entire free day outside reading without sunscreen, her face stayed moonlight pale. Instead of breaking out in horrid zits from the stress of her double life, her complexion smoothed to perfect porcelin. Every varied shade of gray and green in her eyes deepened and intensified. Her hair became ten times more luxurious, longer, and healthier, even though she had little time to care for it. Suddenly, she understood why so many boys had asked her out spring semester. She'd simply stared at them, having forgotten the concept of dating in the midst of completing college while running a not-so-fairytale kingdom. Karen seemed to think her bloom must be over glow from some beau, Sarah's first love, maybe even lover. When disappointed, Karen asked what she was using on her hair. Jojoba? Sarah just shrugged.

The changes weren't just physical. Though she imagined she'd developed several ulcers, she felt stronger. As the second term passed, she functioned more effectively on less and less sleep. Her mind sharpened; class work became easier. She supposed the Labyrinth's magic gave its queen gifts beyond transportation and powerful crystals. Those spells obeyed her too. With mere months of practice, her magic answered confidently. She felt vaguely in control, able, though she was always teetering on a cliff face. She began to harbor her own goals too, wondering if the goblins could ever be educated to govern themselves.

The way she thought of the old king changed too.

Jareth. His name had been Jareth. Jareth with no one to call him by name.

In retrospect, she'd always known that he'd been playing a part, just as she was when she went to steal children. Now she knew that she hadn't known him at all. Acting aside, anyone would break under his responsibilities. Even knowing she was improving as a monarch, Sarah remained aware that she barely performed half of his old tasks. New ones surfaced nearly daily; now she just understood that she'd eventually master them, though they made her life bleaker. And she never imagined how alone he'd been. Living two lives gave Sarah some socialization, but she almost never had time for pleasure or company in either world. He'd lived alone in a cold palace. His intellect separated him from normal people, let alone the goblins he ruled. She imagined him trapped.

Yet knowing that she hadn't known him, Sarah couldn't help wondering how much of himself he interjected into his acting. Older, she understood a little more of her younger self's confused attraction to him. He'd professed more. Coming from a cross between her dreams and her nightmares, he mixed strength, power, and intelligence she craved with selfishness, temper, and cruelty she didn't. From what little she could discern of his true character, he had bad and good qualities in heaps. She supposed him more or less human, for all his otherworldliness. Still, even in hindsight, Sarah couldn't decipher his cryptic combination of reality and illusion.

She recalled his final offer. Six odd years didn't make her wish she'd accepted him, because she wanted an equal partner, not a master or a slave, though she found so many of her peers lacking the qualities that would make them her equal even before her transformation into a queen. She wondered if she too were destined for solitude. The thought increased her burgeoning sympathy for him. Everyday, she wondered how alone he really must have been to chose her as his successor—to truly have no one else. No child, no friend, no steward, no family. Sarah surprised herself to find that her heart ached for him, both for his loneliness, and his early demise.

Most surprisingly, though perhaps he'd always known, she wished she'd known him better. At least then, maybe her job wouldn't be so hard. Though she acknowledged her own accumulating skill, she felt the load on her back pressing down, always threatening to strangle her. Sarah hated the constant feeling of suffocation.

Realizing she hadn't really comprehended the last several pages of her book, Sarah rolled off the lawn. She hoped her kingdom hadn't completely fallen apart in two days personal rest and got up to see if Karen and her father had come home from work. Toby was still in school, heading straight to karate practice afterwards. Glancing at the clock in the foyer, she noticed that like her younger self, she'd day-dreamed away far more hours than she intended. 4:50. With her family due in less than half an hour, she didn't have enough time to check on the Labyrinth without arousing suspicion. Sarah sighed and started supper.

By the time she strained the spaghetti, Toby barreled in to hug her legs. Sarah let his impact shake her more than it really did.

"How many more days to that yellow belt?" she asked, ruffling his hair.

"Test on Thursday," he beamed.

"Great," she heard the door close. "Hi Dad, Hi Karen. Good day I hope?"

Her father nodded agreement and headed up stairs.

"Certainly," Karen replied, stepping in to help Sarah with the salad. "Thanks for getting started."

"No problem, I've had a relaxing day," Sarah shrugged, giving Toby a gentle shove out of the kitchen. "Please go take a shower sports hero—you stink."

He wrinkled his nose and jogged out of the kitchen, throwing a few mock punches for good measure.

"Speaking of relaxing," Karen began, slicing tomatoes, "I checked with my coworker about that summer job. It's certainly more resume-worthy than the others."

Sarah waited for the blow.

"I'm still surprised you didn't look for another internship Sarah."

"I know. But I just need a little time to relax. Really relax." Sarah paused, sizing up her stepmother before she dropped the bomb. "I don't think I want to work a regular job this summer."

"Why?"

"I said I need to relax," she explained simply. "I've felt really stretched this year. And I've been working since I was seventeen. I have enough savings to take a small break." After her first experience with the Labyrinth and sudden want of responsibility, Sarah started working at the local bookstore a few hours a week and in the summer. She enjoyed the work, suggesting favorite reads, and daydreaming plenty once her duties were done. She'd thought she was used to working before she began learning real responsibility that fateful night.

"I thought you looked exhausted at Christmas," Karen commented nonchalantly.

Sarah heard the question anyway. "Please trust me on this. I'll have to be a little frugal, but I need some time."

Though her stepmother acquiesced and her father was easily persuaded over dinner, Sarah felt a deep sense of sadness settle at her deception. Once again, she wondered about telling her family the truth, but thought Karen might commit her. She pondered taking them to visit, but couldn't fully wrap her mind around the idea. What of Toby? He'd never seemed to remember his experience, but sometimes she caught a faraway gleam in his eye that made her nervous. Between Toby and her kingdom, between everything, she still couldn't stop the growing sense of dread. The weight on her back grew ever heavier.

x x x x

Even without a summer job, Sarah's situation quickly descended into emotional chaos. Once Toby finished school for his summer break, he wanted to spend every moment with his sister. Meanwhile, Sarah tried to steal away as often as she could when the two of them were home alone. She sent him to friend's houses and let him feel responsible by dropping him off at the library or movies for a few hours. She made sure Karen sent him to camp and swimming lessons. She even resorted, just once, to telling her cherished brother that she needed to be alone for a while. At that, he nibbled his lip, turned his back, and stomped upstairs.

If the disaster that called her away had truly been one, she wouldn't have been so angry, but the itching magical headache really just summoned her to a goblin keg party, albeit in delicate parts of the castle.

She gave vent to her temper and yelled savagely at them until they quivered at her feet. It was amazing how quickly they cleaned up and scattered after that. Thinking of Machiavelli, she wondered why she hadn't tried such tactics earlier. Then she remembered that she hadn't had enough rage to make them work.

Sighing, Sarah made her way to her desk. She swiped at watery eyes as she pilled papers from the desk to the chair so she could properly sort them. A renewed invitation for her coronation caught her eye. Toby's face flashed in her mind. She'd have to face her horrible, supposed peers again. In the castle she felt in charge enough, but she didn't want to swim in those deeper waters. She'd known it was coming…Sarah frowned, and swept the papers clear to the floor in one motion. She crossed the settee and slumped, head in her hands.

"Really Sarah, I chose you in belief you would never give up. Please don't disappoint me."

She jerked upright at the sound of his voice, looking around the room in a panic. Her eyes settled his ghostly image in the mirror before her, so reminiscent of his first summons. "What?"

"You do well girl," he smirked, misty eyebrow raised. "But royalty must sacrifice."

"I didn't ask for this," Sarah muttered, spellbound by his image. Her gaze met his reflected one and the tears spilled over. She pressed her knuckles to her cheek. "I thought I could do it, but I can't. I can't tear away my family and if this gets any harder…"

"Shhh…" his remembered breath caressed her cheek, comforting her. "The best leaders neither chose, nor per say enjoy, their roles." His mirror effigy smiled. "You are a good leader; I thought you'd need this spell long ago."

"I think I did."

"No; you're scared now."

"Yes," she nodded, dabbing her face.

"I'll have you know, I was often scared."

Sarah sniffed. "You never looked it. You were glorious."

"Thank you my dear." His smile twitched again, as if he wanted to laugh, or itch his nose. The perfect lifelikeness of his expression squeezed at her heart. "I must tell you that you'll learn.

She shook her head, only mildly mollified. "I wish you were here." Though she resented her position at times, the plaintive words surprised even her.

"As do I." His image wavered, turning watery. The well-remembered visage started to tremble and fade. "I wish I could help you more, your majesty."

"Please don't call me…Please don't go."

His smile turned sad and she saw a strange reflection of her own emotions in his uneven eyes. "Alas I am already gone."

"You can't…" The mirror reflected more and more of her own face. Much as she dreaded it, he was going. "I need you."

His face was gone, but once more, his last breath stroked her cheek. "I waited a long time to hear you say that."

Then Sarah was alone and she lost her battle with weeping. Now, with a better of understanding of both of them, she understood her own grief. Had she understood as a child, or even a few months ago, the intrigue she felt, her grief would have been absolute. Frightened as she was, there'd been a kind of fireworks at a meeting of equals. Well, two souls that would become equals. And now, able to meet only the faintest, final traces of his magic, she realized that she missed the enigmatic Goblin King. And she always would. For the first time since learning of his death, she grieved for the loss of the man.