Author's Note: A 'pleache' (further in the chapter) is a pastry. Very creamy and rich. Think of the love child of a black forest cake, an apple pie and a cheesecake. And yes, it is made with peaches. It's an old goblin recipe.

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"Are you okay?"

Jareth looked up from moody contemplation of the flagstone and sighed. "Fine. How is your arm?"

Toby shrugged and winced when it hurt. "It hurts," he said honestly, "Hessie thinks I should go to a healer."

"I thought you said it was shallow."

"She thinks it would be better to have the healer tell me that. Jervohl says I should take it as a good sign that she is so protective."

Jareth grinned wanly and nodded. "She only does that for her charges," he told him, "Only a handful of people get to be mothered by Hessie- Jervohl, Ezreeka, and Gibil. Two others as well; I can't remember their names. Even I do not merit a fuss."

"You look exhausted, Jareth. Are you sure you feel all right? Where were you, by the way?"

Jareth rubbed his eyes and shook his head. "Merilin finally did what I suspected he would always do- he got ahead of himself. He set himself up to be used in grand style. I almost left him there to stew, but I have to say the conversation intrigued me." His voice dropped, as if he were talking to himself. "He is much smarter than I ever gave him credit for."

"Who? Merilin?" Toby looked artlessly curious.

'Curiosity will be the death of you one day…'

Jareth caught that clear blue gaze for five heartbeats, wondering how much of the truth he could divulge. "No," he eventually said, "Not Merilin, the other."

"Madigh was there, was he?"

Jareth didn't answer. Instead he rubbed his eyes again and gave in to a yawn. Toby dropped the topic instantly in favour of grabbing his sleeve and yanking firmly.

"Come on," the mortal ordered, "You can do with some food and drink. Something light, I think. No stamina at all," he mourned mockingly.

Jareth glared at him but got reluctantly to his feet. "Where are you taking me?"

Toby just shoved him to the door. Much to his surprise, Jareth stuck his tongue out at him in retribution. It was almost funny. Toby couldn't help the grin that bubbled up, or the exasperated sigh that he indulged in without thinking.

They walked amicably together, silent because it was rare that they were in such a mood during a perfectly non-sexual situation. Sex was easy. They knew- generally- what to do during that. But talking usually ended with someone saying something wrong. Which would lead to a fight. Which would be irritating, so they both shut up and enjoyed just enjoying a relaxed peace with each other.

Jareth's eyebrows rose when Toby herded him down into the kitchens.

The goblins stopped short and stared. Time froze. No one moved. Everyone was waiting for Jareth to say something nasty, or do something abusive, and Jareth was just caught by the looks of fear that were directed his way.

"Well, I could take him away, but I fear he will eat me," Toby pointed out pathetically, speaking in goblin.

The chief cook moved, pushing her assistant out of the way and waddling up to the tall intruders in her kitchens. She bowed, stuck a large wooden spoon out at the mortal and said, "Come in. But no stealing my wine apples."

Jareth sniggered and found the spoon suddenly in his face. Toby froze too. The cook had never met Jareth; even pleading ignorance, she clearly had a death wish to wave a spoon under his nose. Toby fought the urge to cover his eyes.

Jareth was aware of Toby's panic. Indeed, the entire kitchen was now gnawing on either a fist or an apron. He hoped they would wash their hands before they touched any more food. As for the fat cook with the sparse hair and the pug nose, he firmly pushed the spoon away and dropped down to one knee, looking at her eye to eye. "Mrs. Bonn," he smiled, "It is an honour to finally meet you."

"Flattery," she sniffed, "No call to try to sweeten me, Sir. Fruit is all you'll get at this disgraceful time of day. No cooked food now."

Jareth had been having an unusual day, even for him. But he was hard put it not to laugh at the little thing. She amused him. Not an ounce of fear in her demeanour! And how wonderful to find out that Toby had a weakness for wine apples.

"Er, Mrs. Bonn," Toby interrupted desperately, also kneeling beside Jareth, "I would like to introduce you to His Majesty."

The cook swung her spoon over one shoulder like a rifle and eyed Jareth up and down, hand on her hip and her mouth severely compressed. "So," she grunted, "His Majesty, is it? Hmmm. Well, if you is with Mr. Williams, you can't be all that bad, eh? Come along, then! Off my floor, the both of you."

Jareth was even more delighted. Toby was blushing and the fae couldn't resist goading him with one of those mocking glances. But they found themselves sitting at a severely clean table. In the blink of an eye a spotless tablecloth had been thrown over the surface, a bowl of fruit set in front of them and silver goblets with cold water to hand.

Jareth settled back in his seat and drank deeply, feeling the cold liquid clear away some of the debris in his mind.

Toby smiled at him, the goblins still watchful just behind his seat. "Mrs. Bonn believes in the therapeutic effects of cold water," he remarked, "Do you not, Mrs. Bonn?"

"Always said, I has, that cold water will clear the cobwebs," she declared robustly, "Hot bread, fresh from the ovens, Your Majesty. And butter. You starts in on that."

She whisked away again. For a fat goblin that waddled, she moved quickly. And she talked even quicker. She was constantly yelling at an underling, muttering to herself, or chattering to her cronies. When she wasn't talking, she was singing. The kitchen was full of sound. The goblins laughed and shrieked and yelled. They buzzed around and somewhere in all the collisions and mess and clattering cauldrons and sizzling pans and whizzing utensils, the most wonderful creations were born.

Jareth felt himself sink into the disturbances.

"Feel better?" Toby asked, shining a wine apple on his sleeve like a little boy.

"Certainly," Jareth yawned, "I could go to sleep here."

"I thought the chaos might be good for you," Toby chuckled, "I was speaking with Jervohl recently. She said Gildred would retreat to a special room after such a mad dash across half the country. Apparently it had to be completely pristine, with everything inside it in perfect position. She said it relaxed him. I thought perhaps you would need the complete opposite. Besides, you did look starved."

"Starved?" Jareth opened one very blue eye and glared. "I am not starved!"

"No, not quite. But you are hardly anything more than skin and bone."

'You're all skin and bone'… 'And you are a very soft little bundle, my Sarah'…

Jareth shook his head and banished the distasteful thought. He was determined not to think of Sarah, at least not in that nostalgic way. So far the dreams had not recurred. He could only hope they never would.

"No sleeping at table!"

Startled, he opened his eyes and straightened up, blinking as the fog from the steaming bowl of soup threatened to engulf him.

"Eat! Eat! Or does you like cold soup?"

Mrs. Bonn was yelling from her place at the stove where she was busily arranging something on a plate. The two goblins that had brought the soup to the table had already run away, melting back into the crowd so that they wouldn't be blamed if anything went wrong.

Jareth looked in wonder at the enormous bowl of soup and dreaded the thought of having to finish all of it. He never ate that much. Toby was looking at him, waiting for him to start first. The mortal had an annoyingly triumphant smirk on his face.

The fae slowly took off his coat, rolled up his sleeve and then tasted the thick, creamy concoction. A slow smile spread across his face. "A marvellous goblin," he commented, "She knows my favourite."

Hot soup- as much as they wanted- with fresh bread and plenty of fruit to sweeten the taste if they wished; cold water to quench their thirst and cool a burnt tongue- both were blissfully full by the end of it all. Toby gave a heartfelt groan when the cook asked if they wanted to try one of her famous pleaches. They looked in torn regret at the cold pastry. But said no and got to their feet.

"Mrs. Bonn," Jareth said seriously, "You are a treasure. You are never getting a day off for the rest of your life."

She sniffed at him, but Toby suspected that it was exactly the kind of compliment she understood. To his surprise, she even smiled when Jareth's back was turned. And then the kitchen went back to its typical noisy banter and the Goblin King and his ward were left to show themselves out.

Jareth remained silent on the way up.

Toby didn't talk either. But he didn't think there was any need to. Jareth looked pensive, but not exhausted. The dark look had disappeared and whatever it was that had put him in such a rage had dissolved. That put him in mind of a question he needed to ask.

"Did Merilin tell you anything about Luka?" Toby murmured.

It was, Jareth mused, an almost artless question- perfectly unconcerned; but obviously not, because Toby had had to ask it in the first place. And how to answer? Telling Toby the truth would lead to questions that the fae didn't want to answer. It would also put Toby into a position to ask around for more information. And Jareth didn't want that. Toby might become a hazard if Luka managed to draw him into his scheming. Jareth didn't want that either.

"No," he sighed, "He has heard nothing. No one knows where Luka is. We only know for certain that Luka has gone into Gildred's lands. We assume that he is with Madigh. It is possible he is…" Even Jareth's mind could not provide him with a possible use for a spoiled socialite fae in the Outlaw Lands.

"You need not spare my feelings, you know," Toby snapped, "I am quite capable of hearing the truth."

"Are you?" Jareth didn't like being serious but he went with his nature of the moment.

"Of course. I will not get upset just because I love him."

Love- present tense. Never a good sign. Jareth stood by his decision not to tell Toby the truth. It was not Toby's reaction so much as what he might expose him to. Telling him would make him curious, make him look. And if he looked, Luka might find out. In which case, Toby might become a secondary target.

Jareth wasn't going to think about Sarah, but he wasn't going to forget what he had sworn.

'And what was his reaction to her last dying wish? He ruined her brother's life as well…' "True," the fae said, "You can handle the truth."

"I certainly can. For what it is worth, I think that Luka is capable of making a fool of himself. He is silly, but not stupid. Not perceptive either, but he has a strange ability to patiently piece together all the information he spends years painstakingly finding."

'Because that is the secret- he reacts. He has no enigma…'

"I suppose he does," Jareth said politely.