Jareth leaned against a pillar along one wall of the dance hall and watched Sarah dancing with a young Fae in a silver demon mask and brocade waistcoat. To him, it looked more like the youth was dancing, and Sarah was just holding on as he twirled her from place to place, trying not to let go or trip over her own feet.

He smiled a little to himself and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Is she Seelie then?" asked a much older Fae seated on a stool beside him. "She looks it."

"She does, doesn't she?" Jareth agreed, rather than outright lie to the man and say that Sarah was Seelie.

"Been a long time since I seen a Seelie lass," the old man continued. "'Specially in Raspiel's court. Now the place is full of them, what with this masquerade ball, you know. Wouldn't think he'd stand for it, after what happened with the last one."

Jareth merely grunted and said nothing. He knew the last Seelie to set foot in Raspiel's hall had been his own mother, who had insulted and humiliated the Unseelie High King by laying with a goblin rather than wed him.

Jareth had no illusions that Raspiel would have forgotten about it by now. One of the many curses of having such long lives as the Fae did was that they also had long memories.

Raspiel would not have forgotten the slight Jareth's now dead mother had dealt him many thousands of years ago. Nor would he have forgiven it, though the object of his humiliation had long ago passed beyond the realm of dreams, and thus beyond his reach. Jareth knew the King still remembered, he saw it every time he looked into those purple eyes, the way Raspiel waited, biding his time, to take his revenge against the mother on the child.

He probably should have been afraid of Raspiel's anger—after all, of all the Fae still living in the Underground, Raspiel was the only one with power that came close to matching his own—but Jareth was not afraid of him. Not even within the walls of the High King's own palace, where most of his magic resided, surrounded on all sides by Seelie and Unseelie alike, who would not have hesitated to take his head if Raspiel had so commanded it.

He did not count the risk to himself, but Sarah was another matter entirely.

She was human, and in a world where humans were regarded as chattel, she was vulnerable. Jareth did not like to think what Raspiel, or many of the others, would do if they were to learn that she was not Seelie Sidhe at all, but a mortal woman. Jareth would try to prevent any harm from coming to her, but even with his superior magic, there were too many of them who would stand against him, and in the end, sheer numbers would win out.

And if they learned that she was not just some human slave of his, that she mattered to him more than a little . . . they would use her against him.

Quite a lot of the responsibility rested on Sarah's own shoulders, to make them believe that she was Fae, whether Seelie or Unseelie, it didn't matter. He knew that, though Sarah might have looked Seelie, with her ivory complexion, dark hair, and changeable eyes, her temperament was much more suited to that of Unseelie.

That was one of the most significant reasons why he had given her the wand, and charged her to keep it with her always. As long as she had magic at her command, it would be hard to doubt that she was some kind of Fae. Fae could sense magic, as they could not sense mortality, and if that magic was more powerful than their own, they tended to shy away from it—or draw to it, depending on their intentions.

Either way, as long as Sarah managed to keep her mouth shut about the Aboveground, she would be safe.