"All of that, just to talk to an elf?" Jervohl exploded, "Are you mad? You've just angered the most influential people, you underdressed illiterate!"

The Goblin King sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Jervohl, stop talking," he ordered simply.

"No, I will not! You interfere in my private affairs, Jareth. You cannot possibly expect me to forgive that. I will not forgive that! I cannot! How dare you?"

Jareth turned to look at his mother. "Why does everyone ask me that?" he remarked plaintively.

Had Toby been in the room, he would surely have noted that his guardian sounded genuinely puzzled, and even a little hurt, at being shouted at in such a manner. Had Toby been there, he would have marvelled at Jareth's absolute inability to see his guilt, or to respect another person's point of view. Thankfully, Toby was not there. He was in Jareth's private library, stewing over the two books that needed immediate replacement. He had lately begun to wonder why Jareth didn't just wish them copied; it would be well within the fae's scope.

"Jareth, you really are a blockhead," Pandora snapped in reply, obviously miffed and taking no pains to hide it. "You upset the entire Kingdom on a whim."

"Oh, he has done worse," Jervohl snarled, lifting her skirts so she could pace without tripping over. The embroidered white overlay was beginning to look rather crumpled. "He refused to officiate at his own friend's wedding."

Jareth sat up straight with a growl. "You have no right to judge me."

"Tell us why, dear brother. Was it because you wanted no part of his 'stupid decision'? Hmmm? He was marrying a dwarf, after all! How terrible for someone so close to you! And you say you aren't racist."

"Jervohl, you are beginning to try my patience," her brother warned.

Pandora sat quiet and listened. No good had ever come of interfering between the two during a fight. For all their similarities, they were both of the disposition to find someone equally as strong-willed a pain. They were fiercely loyal, but fiercely critical as well. And this time, Dieter was not there to keep the peace.

"Good! It is about time someone disturbed your smug self-congratulation. Nothing you have ever done has ever been with any kind of good intent. You and that pile of chaos of yours."

"Insult me if you wish but leave my Labyrinth out of it!"

"Your Labyrinth? Gods be damned, your Labyrinth! The messy thing chose you, not the other way around it. You have no power over me, Jareth, so do not think to even…"

The flash of lightening snapped across the room before the Goblin King had even thought.

'You have no power over me.'

Jervohl, to her credit, never made a sound. She stumbled, true, and tears started at the pain but she never screamed or cursed. Instead, she took a few minutes to take stock and then straightened, her right hand protecting the badly burned flesh on her upper left arm. Cloth had burnt away and flesh had blistered and torn.

One look at the steel anger in those blue-hazel eyes and Jervohl knew that Jareth had very nearly killed her. Long years of prudent training and deflating ego took her from the room, not even bothering to wait to close the door before rapidly walking away.

Pandora stood stock still, her hands still covering her mouth, her eyes still wide and terrified. The first thing in her head was a chorus of gratitude that Jareth had pulled back at the last minute. The second thing in her head was that she had spawned a positively evil male.

"This," she eventually whispered, fighting to get her stunned nerves to under control, "Is too much. I never brought you up to this."

"Spare me the lecture," Jareth spat.

She left too, slamming the door shut before the heel of her shoe had landed beyond the wooden structure. The sound echoed down the corridor and it only served as some kind of ever-growing accusation.

Jareth snarled at nothing and threw himself into a chair, resting an elbow on the arm and dropping his face into the open palm. Too much had been said in one day, far too much. He had overplayed his hand and he should really have learned not to do that by now. He should have learned!

Pile of chaos, she said.

Without thought his right hand clenched around his medallion. His! Not anyone else's, but his. He had earned it. Fought for it tooth and nail. Trials and tests in the dreams the Labyrinth always sent when it chose. Sometimes for one night, other times for a year. The Labyrinth chose, but it never appointed until the final test was complete. Until it was satisfied. The country could run itself but no King would ever ascend that throne until the Labyrinth was certain the male was ready.

He heard the jokes. He knew what people said about him and his methods of ruling. He knew people questioned whether he was any use at all. It didn't matter to him. Whatever his failings, he had earned his right to be where he was.

He lifted his head and sighed, shutting his eyes and letting his senses slip out of the bounds of his body. This was chaos in its purity, knowing everything simultaneously, watching as if from a far point as people acted without knowing he was there. Grainy pictures, flat and slightly muffled and yet so achingly alive!

Evidently, Jervohl really was in pain. An annoyance, that. But he could wish the pain away even if he couldn't heal her and that should go some way to relieving whatever anger she felt towards him. She'd known what was coming. Gildred had evidently not squashed her sharp tongue enough. Little brat! He should have dunked her into a basin of water when she'd been an infant.

His mother, however, was quite another kettle of fish. Jareth could see her, standing with Jervohl and Hettie, the two older women fussing over her and soothing her as best they could. The blue gown was crushed kneeling on the floor and her hair had pulled from the snood when she ran a harassed hand through her hair in a fit of frustration. She looked somehow older, though once again, what he was seeing was only a perception of his knowing.

He sighed again and opened his eyes. No, cajoling the Lady Pandora back from anger would not be quite that easy. Unless…

Toby had had no idea about any of it. Any feel of magic in the air was completely out of his reach; his natural senses could not pick up on it. But he had been busy in any case, keeping his hands and eyes steady and focused as he worked laboriously over the text.

A knock on the door had startled him not a few minutes ago. "Come in?" he had called, wondering why Jareth or the two females would knock. They were private people, but they reserved their courtesy for private rooms only. This was not a private room.

The first thing he had seen was a tray with a silver jug. The next thing he had seen was the food. Steaming hot, too! And smelling divine. The third and final observation was that the tray had thick, bandy legs that waddled towards him.

"Gibil?" Toby guessed, trying to peer around the tray.

The goblin face poked up and grinned shyly at him. "I broughts ya some food."

"Thank you." Toby stifled a grin. The little guy had attached himself to the mortal with a vengeance. Toby had only to stay in the library for over four hours and Gibil would come to see if he needed anything. Considering he had just brought food without question said a lot for the goblin's growing acceptance.

Toby had uncoiled himself from the chair and courteously took the tray away. He set it down on the table and sat down on the floor to talk to the little creature still hovering uncertainly in the room. "Is there something wrong?"

"N- nothing, Sir! Nothing at all!"

"Gibil, you're trembling," Toby had pointed out gently, "Perhaps I may be of help."

"No." Gibil's nose twitched unhappily.

Toby had changed his tactic. "Gibil, tell me what is wrong," he ordered, hardening his voice just a little.

Large, dirty brown eyes widened and Gibil had actually scrambled backwards. "My mother, Sir," the goblin babbled, "She be's sick, Sir. Ain't gonna see the New Year, Sir."

Toby winced and tried to think of what to say. "I am sorry."

"S'okay," Gibil shrugged, "Gots to die sometimes, eh?"

Typical goblin philosophy- why fight fate? The goblins were a remarkably unflappable people. They took everything in their stride and adapted to it. Well, attempted to adapt to it. There was something that Toby was certain they did fear and since the 'something' chose that moment to stalk into the room and throw Gibil bodily out of it, he could only sympathize with the poor creatures.

So Toby had stood up, dusted himself off and glared at his guardian as the fae shut the door on Gibil's pained squeak and moan. "That," he said softly, "Was unnecessary."

Jareth raised an eyebrow and looked back at the door. "The rat was in my way," he answered, "Never tell me you actually like to talking to goblins?"

"I find them smarter than most people give them credit for," Toby agreed. He moved away, deliberately keeping face and voice colourless. Accusing Jareth of cruelty was an unprofitable action. Toby knew better than to imply it.

"They can barely string words together, let alone have them make sense," the Goblin King commented dryly, "A singularly useless lot as far as conversation goes."

Toby's bad humour deepened. He pushed the books away and began to eat slowly, refusing to reply. The touch of supple leather on his shoulder made him look up. He swallowed and looked enquiring.

"I need a favour," the Goblin King told him.

Gibil limped back to the kitchen, not unduly upset about the attack on his person. His nose was bruised and his hip, but that was to be expected. Mally stepped out and glared at him from down the corridor, obviously meaning to have a few words about his continued flaunting of the unwritten rules. Gibil ducked down a small corridor, took a turn into an empty suite, through to another door, down the laundry chute and into the bright washroom with its chattering throng of goblin servants. Grinning at the exhilaration, he broke out into a paroxysm of gossip in his own language, teased one of the females that he'd known since he'd been a babe and limped his way back to his original duties.

Mally grumbled and hissed a few choice curses at the smaller goblin servant. Gibil was a troublemaker, one of those who wanted to change things. Goblins didn't like change. Mally considered himself a true goblin. Approaching anyone in the Goblin King's private wing without being summoned was simply not permissible. But no matter how much Mally tried, he could not catch that bloody Gibil! There was always some way or another that Gibil found to make his way to meeting that Mr. Williams.

"Out of my way, please," a female voice said behind him.

Jumping almost out of his polished armour, Mally spun around and bowed, apologizing profusely to Ms. Jervohl as she swept past him with barely a look. Had he allowed himself to look about her delicate ankles, he would have noticed that her arm was in a sling and her face was drawn with anger. Her green eyes sparkled and she made straight for the Goblin King's rooms.

That- Mally knew what that entailed. He went away very discreetly so as not to overhear the yelling or smashing objects that was bound to occur.

Toby was eyeing his educator warily at that exact moment, wondering why he had agreed to a plan as ridiculous as all this when it would only draw him into a family situation that it was not his place to interfere in. But Jareth was sucking the juice out of a particularly sweet fruit and being far too reasonable to ignore.

Well, until Jervohl swept into the room without so much as knocking and proceeding to say some very unflattering things in Fae. Jareth had straightened in his seat and then shot a contemplative look at Toby as if wondering how he could get rid of him. Toby was not feeling charitable. He was feeling ill used, underappreciated and rather vengeful. So he smirked slowly at the Goblin King and settled down in his chair, clearly turning his interested eyes to Jervohl's startlingly pale face and listening in unashamedly.

Gradually it began to dawn on him that he was being rude. Less than a sentence later he was utterly uncomfortable by what he was hearing.

Jareth had, apparently, ruined Jervohl's life in any way that he possibly could and she was refusing to allow him to get away with it any more. He was a terrible son and an uncaring brother, capable of selling his grandmother down the river for self- gratification. He had been terrible to her as a child, playing tricks on her and teasing her most unbearably until she cried. Any insecurities about her own self-worth were his doing and no one else's. He had deliberately slept with her fiancé and broken her heart. This had, of course, led to her capture by Gildred and her ransom to work with him for nineteen years. He little knew how she had suffered and what she had been forced to do to stay alive. He had made her homecoming hard and managed to twist it around to his advantage again. He had deliberately thrown her ex-fiancé back into her life and opened old wounds, as well as meddled in her affairs concerning Gildred and made things worse. Plus, he had had the temerity to wound her physically when she'd tried to tell him these things before.

By the time she paused to take a breath, Toby took the moment to get to his feet and try to make his way discreetly to the door. It was an unfortunate movement. Jervohl's smouldering green eyes fixed on him for a long moment and then she whipped back to Jareth and tore into him once more.

"And what about the way you treat people," she ranted, "This man is the brother to the girl that you were in love with. Her brother! And how do you treat him? Less than a servant. Less than a thinking, feeling person. You embarrass him, put him down, act without thought for his feelings and even through all of that you seem to believe you are doing him some sort of favour! Are you just so dense that you cannot see what lies before your pointed nose, you egocentric, pompous owl?"

Jareth had been very quiet for the entire exchange, sitting still in his chair and listening politely for his sister to finish. At this, he almost smiled. Seeing her pause for breath again, he cast a quick spell.

Jervohl's eyes widened as her jaw locked and wouldn't move. Fighting the magic at first, she glared when she found there was literally nothing she could do.

Jareth stood up and went around her to grab Toby by the arm. "Stay," he ordered, "You have already heard everything and since my sister has decided to champion your cause, I think there are some answers I need to give."

He turned, waved a hand at Jervohl and released her from her physical discomfort. "My dear, I have already apologized for what happened between myself and Crase. It was a mutual mistake caused by drunkenness. For whatever happened in our childhood, I will not apologize," he began, "We were children and we acted as such. Besides which, any teasing I may have done was to stop your incessant need to follow us every where."

"Us?" Toby broke in. He couldn't help it. It was an awkward situation and it made him nervous.

Mismatched eyes barely looked at him as deft fingers unwound the sling and the bandages. "My brother Dieter, Elban and myself."

"The Terrible Three," Jervohl spat out, "And what was I to do? Sit at home with my needlework and painting? Talk to our tutor?"

"You had your friends," Jareth pointed out, "We were three immature little boys that did not want anything to do with girls at the time. Suffice it to say we have all been sufficiently punished. Elban still does not want anything to do with girls and Dieter died because of a girl."

Jervohl clicked her tongue in frustration but Toby felt his mouth open again. "And you?" he asked softly.

A slow smirk and a gloved hand carefully covered the badly burnt flesh. "I like girls a little too much. Ah, Mistress Irony, such of life's lessons you do teach us."

"You made me break my wrist climbing a tree," Jervohl said thickly, "I still have not forgiven you for that."

For all the emotions openly displayed in her voice, Jareth was once again impressed by the strength of the female members of his family. Jervohl had barely reacted when he'd peeled the crusted bandages away to reveal what he had done. She hadn't done more than flinch when he applied his hand to it, never mind the agony. She was strong, proud and right now very hurt and angry. He could hardly blame her, given her stimulus.

"That was Dieter," he remarked, "Elban was on your side, however. If I recall, his insistence that we should not ask you to do something so dangerous was what made you decide to accept Die's challenge in the first place."

She shrugged and then coughed as he applied a little more pressure. "What are you doing?" she choked out, her breath caught in her throat from the pain.

"Trying to feel the extent of the damage I caused," came the brusque answer. "There. Is the pain gone?"

She shook the arm and nodded. Turning to face her brother, she cupped his face in her hands and kissed the tip of his nose in an affectionate gesture. "The next time," she warned, "Do not expect me to talk to you after such a thing. My sword will speak for me and you are not yet back up to your usual skill."

He sighed and nodded, smiling a little.

She let go and took a seat. Toby stiffened as he realized that the books were in plain sight. He tossed a wild look at the Goblin King's strong profile and saw nothing more than a cool interest directed at his sister. The mortal took his cue and forced himself to calm down. He focused on the delicate embroidery on Jervohl's gown to help himself.

"Now for the rest," Jareth continued, turning to lay a hand on Toby's arm, "You brought up certain concerns about this young man, here. I shall leave him to answer them."

Toby lost his calm and looked wildly at Jareth once more.

Jervohl stifled a smile.

"What?" Toby asked.

"Well?" Jareth sounded impatient. "Have I mistreated you? Embarrassed you? Used you shamefully and disrespectfully? Have I been neglectful and uncaring?"

Toby looked between Jervohl's open grin to Jareth's annoyed face. Then he saw the mischievous twinkle in those dual coloured eyes and slumped. "You are a trickster," he snapped, not meaning it as a compliment, "Damn you, you almost had me running out the door in a panic!"

Jareth chuckled and let go of his arm. "Truthfully, Toby. If Jervohl has concerns, then so will you. Let's hear them."

Toby pondered that. It was a private matter and he wished Jervohl would absent herself, but as she was the one that had brought up the subject in the first place, he decided he could ignore her continued presence in the room. "You were always an absent guardian," he pointed out slowly, "You seem to think that I am here to be of service to you and you are not the easiest person to get along with."

Jareth nodded. "One, you were never interested in meeting me," he replied swiftly, counting them out on his fingers, "The one time that I did attempt to make contact with you, you ran away. Two, you are not here to be of service to me, but as I cannot teach you how to be a King of the Underground, I can assist you in acquiring the skills needed for a secretary or a gentleman with duties. I give you tasks that only allow you a deeper insight into the land that you call your own. Three, I am not the easiest person to get along with for anyone. I see no reason to change for you. I am as I am. I cannot be other than that. Those who do live a lie and I think I know your stand on dishonesty."

Just like that, Jareth had turned his every argument against him! Toby felt like scowling but didn't, felt like resigning himself to the situation but didn't. After all, just because Jareth was Jareth, it did not mean that he could excuse him in ways he would do for no one else. He said as much, not catching the avid speculation on Jervohl's face as she began to look at him in a peculiar way. His eyes were on Jareth, and the way that the fae seemed inordinately pleased at such a statement.

"People have excused you too much in your life," Toby said robustly, "I am not one of them, unfortunately. I think you are selfish and an intellectual snob. I think you place too much emphasis on your pride and the respect you feel you are owed. I do not approve of the way you treat people and most especially the goblins. I also think that you are a cheat and a manipulator."

"I take it you do not like cheats and manipulators," Jareth remarked, almost purring under the mortal's focus. He decided he liked it. Toby had a certain distance about him, a way of separating himself from everyone else. But when he was speaking his mind, nothing but the subject at hand occupied his mind. The Goblin King had always liked being the centre of attention momentarily.

"No, I do not. None of this was meant as a compliment, Jareth."

"I know," the fae agreed, looking smugly content with himself.

Toby shook his head and sighed. Turning away, he saw a brief flash of some unidentified concern in her eyes before she adopted a neutral mask. Concern. Had he been too forward in his plain-speaking? He replayed what he had said and was aghast at himself. Thinking quickly, he smiled deprecatingly and picked up the other side of what he had said. "On the other hand," he said, "He has been very gentle with me. I have no actual complaint against him that is personal. He treats me as he treats anyone else, and if that is excusable, then I apologize."

"No need to apologize," Jervohl laughed, standing up and flicking the unwrapped bandaging at him, "Jareth can be quite charming when it is in his interests. Just ask the Duke."

"The Duke?"

Jervohl looked nervously at Jareth, suddenly conscious that she had said the wrong thing. Toby narrowed his eyes at the Goblin King and folded his arms across his chest as he always did when he was angry.

Jareth groaned and raised a hand to hide his eyes for a moment. "The Duke was not, ah, agreeable to my role in your educating."

Jervohl snorted. "He flatly refused to condone it, Jareth. He called it indirect incest."

The Goblin King grimaced and shuddered delicately. "Of all the things I have ever been accused of," he said tellingly, "This is the worst."

"Incest?" Toby still didn't get it.

"Your sister," Jervohl explained, "There have been rumours of… what might have happened to Sarah when in the Labyrinth. She was only fifteen but as Jareth fell in love with her at that age, it is quite possible that he might have seduced her without thought. The air that billows through his ridiculous shirts must have frozen all good sense out of him because he has yet to deny those rumours."

Toby was frozen, never mind Jareth's good sense. He could barely breath at the moment, let alone voice all the little voices in his head that told him that he had been right to distrust Jareth and that the fae would be damned for such a damnable act.

"I never did it," Jareth said clearly, not liking the suddenly blank look in Toby's blue eyes. There was always something there, never total blankness.

Toby shook his head and said nothing. Sarah had been fifteen! The same mouth that kissed him had kissed her so intimately? The hands that were slowly mapping out his body every evening had been… had been… He felt bile in the back of his throat.

"Toby?" Jareth shoved him backwards until the backs on his calves hit the chair. He fell into it automatically. "Jervohl, some water. There, on the table."

She handed him the glass and the male fae carefully pressed it into Toby's hand. Considering Toby was still not responding, he wrapped his own fingers over Toby's and raised the glass to his mouth, using his other hand to tip the mortal's head back a little. He forced the issue, hoping he wasn't doing something wrong.

Toby swallowed whatever was in his mouth but it didn't seem to make much difference, so Jareth used the only other stimulus he knew. He took the glass away, handed it back to Jervohl and then tipped the mortal's head back a little more. Bending down, he brushed his lips gently over the slack mouth. Once, twice, three times, and then he deepened it, pressing more urgently.

Toby wasn't in quite as much shock as all that. He had stayed silent, hoping the other two would go away and leave him to think- or tear himself apart in guilt- in peace. When Jareth had first kissed him, he'd had to restrain himself from pushing the Goblin King away and wiping his mouth in disgust. But Jareth hadn't noticed and persisted. Toby gasped slightly and pulled away.

The Goblin King backed away immediately, looking relieved. Jervohl's worried face peered over his shoulder. Toby shook his head and blinked warily up at them both.

"Are you alright?" Jervohl's question.

"Fine," he said, panting a little.

"Are you sure? Some water? It will ease the muscles in your throat and jaw," Jervohl offered.

He took it wordlessly and sipped. Jareth was still just looking at him, obviously waiting for an explanation. Well, he did not owe anyone an explanation! He would not give Jareth that satisfaction. "Did you seduce Sarah?" he asked quietly.

"No," Jareth said matter-of-factly.

"You spied on her when she returned Aboveground."

"Never at inappropriate moments. When she undressed, when she bathed, when she was in her bed and…"

"Never mind. I do not want to know. You swear to me that you are not lying?"

"Yes. But would it matter if I had slept with her?"

Toby looked disgusted. "I will not sleep with my dead half-sister's lover. It is bad enough knowing that the only reason I am alive and tolerated is because you loved Sarah. I will not be compared to her in bed as well."

"It would be a little difficult," Jareth smirked, "You are two very different people. Sarah would have been… passive. One makes love to a woman like Sarah."

Toby shuddered to think about that; so was he for the most part. He frowned slightly. At least, he was with Jareth. With Luka he had been an active participant. But with Jareth he just lay back and took it. Shockingly, he realized that it was almost a month and he had yet to even initiate a kiss let alone actually touch Jareth beyond tangling his fingers in long blond hair or stroking a lean back.

"This is ridiculous," he moaned, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to shut the rest of the world out.

Jareth patted his shoulder comfortingly. "Welcome to the world of adults, Toby. Consider this another part of your educating. Things happen that you are not prepared for. You cannot escape that."

"Like you and Sarah?" Toby snapped sarcastically, "Stop preaching at me, Jareth. I know enough about human emotions."

Jareth suddenly thought something else. He turned around to find his sister in a sort of moody contemplation of the floor. Her face was sad and her eyes were lowered. She stood with her head bowed and her hands clasped lightly in front. It was the expression she had first presented herself with. An expression of loss. He wished very much that both Toby and Jervohl would take themselves somewhere else for help with their problems.

"Jervohl!" he snapped.

Her eyes shot up and she straightened. "Yes?"

"Don't you start crying again," he warned, "I will have you thrown out of this room if you do."

She smiled and assured him that she had never felt less like crying. A singular lie considering the catch in her voice.

"Jervohl, since we are on the subject, Gildred seems to have some sort of plan concerning you," Jareth said, "If you had listened to me at the start of all this, we could have sorted this out a long time ago. Have you any idea why Madigh wants to know where you are and what you are doing?"

Jervohl looked startled and then worried. "No. He got the promotion and I am no further use to him. None that I know of, anyway."

"Hm. Right. It appears you have an enemy that is of some considerable threat and therefore I will do two things. One, you will be confined to my Castle. I'll speak to Mother on that score. No doubt she will elect to stay as well. Two, you need a bodyguard."

Jervohl looked annoyed. "I am perfectly able to protect myself," she protested, "I do not require a goblin two-feet off the ground to poke anyone in the ankle for me!"

"Fine. Then a goblin is out. An elf?"

"Jareth! I do not need a bodyguard. Madigh is probably just being cautious, trying to ensure that I do not cause Gildred any inconvenience. There is nothing to fear." She was being optimistic and she knew it. "Does Gildred know of this?"

"No. Which is why I suspect Madigh. You will have a bodyguard and I will not allow you to say no. Just think of what Mother will do to me if I let you die."

"Castrate you," Jervohl retorted, "And then take you apart piece by piece."

"Exactly. Which is why you will have a bodyguard of my choice and you will like it." He looked appropriately fierce and Toby, still winded by the sudden change in subject, thought it rather funny. "I am certain that Toby will appreciate the exercise and companionship."

"What?"

Jareth looked around to his ward. "Leave the books. I will do them. You have some skill with a sword and most people in this dimension will think twice before fighting someone that looks as if his ancestry contains traces of Giantry."

Toby flushed. But somehow, the allusion to his size and bulk did not sound like an insult, rather like a compliment. It was oddly flattering. "Thank you," he said wryly, "But why me? Surely someone more worthy…"

"Who else? A goblin guard? No. Madigh will send his best if he sends any assassin at all, and while my goblins are good, they are not right. Perhaps one of the fae?" He skimmed over his own personal contingent of bodyguards that he refused permission to enter his Castle on pain of death unless he called but discarded them all. "No. You live here, therefore are instantly available. Jervohl respects you and likes you. Besides, you seem to share an understanding. You need only fight with her, not for her. My sister is no helpless chit."

"She bested me," Toby admitted, "Helpless is not what I would call her."

Jervohl grinned in spite of herself. "Thank you. In which case I would point out that I could handle any assassin that Madigh sends, even should he send one. Jareth, you are being overprotective."

Mismatched eyes narrowed. "Is that so wrong? If I protect my sister? I will not suffer your death twice in twenty years, Jervohl. And Mother has lost enough children in her lifetime, has she not?"

Jervohl fumed. It was low of her brother to use their only living parent as a bargaining chip. How could she refuse that? Yes, the Lady Pandora had been devastated when her husband died. That had not even described how badly her second child son's death had hit her. Her ill health stemmed from the intense shock she had received then. Jervohl could only imagine how her own supposed death had affected the older female.

"Has she not?"

"Yes."

"Good. It is settled."

"But Jareth, perhaps someone else. I do not think I am…"

"Toby, just accept it. I chose you for a reason." Jareth had been nice enough for one day. He got off the floor and rubbed his neck as he stretched. "Since this conversation is done, I intend to take Serenity out for a ride. Would you care to join us?" He looked between the both of them.

Toby shook his head and smiled uneasily.

Jervohl was less handy with her feelings. Glaring openly at Jareth, she ignored him completely. "I am sorry, Toby. You know how His Majesty can be. I will try to make this easier on you." And then she left, taking her bandages with her.

Jareth rolled his eyes but didn't seem too upset. "Good. Glad that was sorted. Now, Toby- remember what you have promised." His ward looked confused. "Put my mother in a good mood. Suggest a game of taron after dinner and that should do the trick. She has a passion for taron."

"I hate taron."

"Does she know that?"

"No. She loves it so much I cannot bear to tell her."

"Good. Then we play taron after dinner. Hopefully, she will be susceptible to a good humour then. Thank you. Excuse me." He vanished, leaving his ward to shake his head and wonder why he alone of every mortal in existence had had to be adopted into the family.