Chapter Seventeen: She Was A Beauty in a Cage
When the tingle ended and Gabriel let go of her clammy hand, Sarah knew that they had arrived. She opened her eyes slowly, revealing a small, plain stone room. There was a doorway, but no furniture, no windows, no pictures, nothing. An intricate crest was carved in the center of the floor.
"Where are we?" asked Sarah in a flat voice.
"This is our manor's Appearing chamber. I suppose you wouldn't know about those. When we do the spell that allows us to travel like we just did, we need a... well, it doesn't really matter. But we need to get out of the room in case anyone else arrives; nasty things can happen when people try to appear in an already-occupied space."
Sarah grimaced as she followed Gabriel out of the little room. Would have been nice to hear how he did that, she thought grimly. Maybe I can—oh, holy crap.
Jareth's castle had been quiet and dusty, ancient and mysterious and vaguely sentient—like the rest of the Labyrinth. The Dara manor house was completely different. The floor of the main entrance—and it must have been the main entrance—was tiled in diamonds of black-and-white marble. A large staircase of rich dark wood curled up the side of the room, finished off with elaborate wrought-iron railing. The walls were painted a dull green when they weren't covered with trompe-l'oeil paintings of columns and molding and battle scenes. The ceiling, two tall stories up, was flat and painted as well. A hallway continued under the staircase; doorways, open and closed, could be seen everywhere. Here and there were side-tables and chairs, potted plants and mirrors.
The castle beyond the Goblin city was mythic, archaic, wondrous. This place appeared to be an opulent but mundane English country estate. The sense of life was palpable.
"Nice," commented Sarah simply, feeling cowed. Gabriel turned his head slightly toward her and smiled wryly.
"You're not exactly faint-of-heart, are you?" he asked sardonically. Sarah had to smile at that.
"No, I guess I'm not. But give me time; I'm sure that the shock will wear off soon enough, and then I'll be a gibbering mess."
"We'll go see Grandmother now, so you can get it over with before you fall apart. She should be up in her sitting room."
They climbed the tall stairway; Sarah studied her surroundings as they walked.
"Does all of the family live here?"
"Not all. Grandmother and Grandfather do, as well as Uncle Tristam, Aunt Gwyneth, cousins Jessamyn, Owain, and Callista. My family stays here during the Season, but Father has his own estate in the country. Jeremiel and your mother, of course, are in the Aboveground."
"Will Jeremy be visiting?" asked Sarah, hopeful but nervous. "Since I'm here?"
"I do not know." Gabriel ushered her down an upstairs hallway. "Perhaps he will. Grandmother asks him to come every year, but he has no great fondness for Idunn."
"Ah." He better come, if he finds out I'm stuck here. He got me into this. "Er—Gabriel? You know, I think that my father and step-mother will be very worried when they find out I'm gone. I'm not sure that staying here is a very good idea..."
It couldn't hurt to mention it.
Gabriel's pitying look did nothing for Sarah's nerves.
"They've been taking care of for the time being. Someone was dispatched to spell their memories—they think you're visiting your mother."
"What?" exclaimed Sarah. "You can't just do that to people! I—"
"Look," he cut in, "None of this is my fault. Don't argue with me." They stopped in front of a closed door; Gabriel knocked on it gently.
"Yes, come in," called a voice from inside, sweet and fluting. Angharad. The corners of Sarah's mouth turned down sharply as her companion pushed the door open.
"It's me," Gabriel said. "I brought the girl."
"Wonderful! Come, come—Gabriel, do change out of those awful clothes soon, won't you—ah, my dear Sarah!"
The girl emerged into the room and shuffled out from behind Gabriel. The space was light and airy, walls covered with a pale yellow, textured wallpaper. The lady in question was perched on the edge of a dainty brocade arm chair, a pile of documents set on the delicate oak table next to her.
"Come let me look at you, child—"
"Lady Dara," started Sarah icily, standing up ramrod-straight and channeling Karen at her worst. "I really must protest this abduction of myself. I am open to the idea of visiting at another date, but I am presently unable to spare the time; moreover, I do not like being swept away so cavalierly; moreover, I do not want you toying with my parents' minds. It is extremely discourteous, their humanity withstanding. As the stepchild of your son, I would have expected more respectful treatment from—"
Sarah trailed off when she realized that Angharad was staring at her with a peculiar expression on her face. She could feel herself morph back into her normal self, no longer in diatribe-mode, almost as if she were shrinking after growing huge in anger. Sarah folded her arms together over her chest. The edges of her pendant prodded at her reassuringly from underneath her shirt.
"What is it?" the girl asked, half-irritable and half-nervous.
The woman was mute for several long moments before speaking.
"Ah... ah, Sarah," Lady Dara said, almost stammering, "I do apologize if you feel ill-used. All of this is in your best interests, as I'm sure you'll realize soon. I will—I will speak with you more later this evening, but I just remembered that I, ah, have an urgent errand to run. Gabriel, please take your cousin to her quarters; or better yet, is your sister home?"
"She is not, madam," replied Gabriel woodenly. "Callista is present, though."
"Callista, that is fine. Please, take Sarah to her room and have Callista go to see her. I'm sure they'll get along admirably."
Angharad seemed more composed now, but she was still watching Sarah closely. The girl shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny. Maybe I have something stuck in my teeth, she thought desperately. Maybe there's a leaf in my hair. Please, let her not notice what I think she's noticing.
She was screwed. That seemed to sum up the situation pretty well.
Her scarlet-haired cousin pushed her out of the room quickly, shutting the door quietly behind them. He began to propel her down the hallway with a hand on her back, walking at a brisk pace.
"Hey, hey!" Sarah protested, squirming out of his grasp, "Enough with the pushing. I can walk on my own."
"Walk fast," he muttered to himself. "I should've known... d'you know where Grandmother Dearest is going now?"
"No," Sarah retorted, almost jogging to keep up with him. "Enlighten me, please."
"Well, first she'll go talk to Grandfather. But after that... I'll wager you any sum of gold that she'll go straight to Uncle Jeremiel and ask him just how long he's been acquainted with your mother."
"Excuse me?" Sarah didn't quite get his drift.
"In other words—she's going to go ask him if you're his child, if you're a changeling, or if your mother is just a whore."
Sarah stopped dead in her tracks. A grip on Gabriel's arm stopped him as well.
"If anyone's earned the right to insult my mother, it's me. But not you. What the fuck are you implying?"
"I should have noticed before, but I didn't. Unfortunately, your show in the sitting room made it impossible to miss. You're too pretty to be a human—and you happen to glow when you're angry. So there are three options: you are Jeremiel's true child, you are a changeling, or you are the daughter of an unknown Shining One that your mother bedded long ago. The first would please our grandmother greatly. The second is unlikely; the custom is old and long out-of-use. The third option casts an unsavory light on your mother."
"You think I'm one of you?" Sarah asked, tightly but relatively calmly. "Oh, god," she muttered wearily. "Just kill me now."
"No histrionics, please," Gabriel told her testily. "It's not a fate worse than death."
Is it better than the truth, though? Maybe for now, at least.
"Easy for you to say."
Gabriel ignored that comment.
"You don't seem very shocked by all of this," Sarah asked in the silence. Gabriel shot her a wry look.
"I make an effort not to be shocked by anything. It saves energy."
They arrived in front of another door, which Gabriel rapped on quickly before opening. There was another sitting room beyond this door, but it was dim and done in shades of blue and cream. A few moment passed before Sarah spotted the girl on the couch—in her muted navy gown, she seemed to fade back into her surroundings. She was holding a book and looking mildly apprehensive.
"Callista, this is Sarah," the young man said peremptorily. "I don't believe you two met when Jeremiel was married."
Callista shook her head, unspeaking.
"Well." Gabriel seemed impatient. "I have things to go do. Sarah, your room is next to Callista's—she can show you. And stop gaping, Callista. Yes, Sarah was supposed to be human. Yes, her parentage is being looked into. No, she will not bite. Maybe you two can protect each other from Jessamyn and my delightful sister. Goodbye now."
And he left, leaving the two girls staring at each other.
Callista looked to be sixteen or seventeen, younger than Gabriel, who could pass for twenty-one or twenty-two. Sarah had no idea what their actual ages might be. The girl was obviously the cousin of Gabriel rather than sister—her hair was black and curly, her eyes wide and brown. She was rounder than any of the other female Shining Ones that Sarah had seen, edging towards the plump side of curvaceous. Sarah remembered the catty comment Jessamyn and Moira had shared at the reception: Who knows where she's gotten. Probably off looking for something to eat.
"I hope you don't get along with your sister," Sarah said abruptly into the quiet. "Because I didn't like her at all."
This garnered a shy smile from the other girl; she put her book down and rose to her feet.
"Pleased to meet you," Callista said in a soft but clear voice. "I think that I'm going to like you, cousin. Jeremy always was my favorite uncle."
"Jeremy?" asked Sarah. "I thought that you guys called him Jeremiel."
"Everyone else does. He doesn't like it, though, so I've always used his human name. He brings me things from the Aboveground in gratitude." She pointed to her book, where The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy was written clearly across the cover. Sarah began to grin broadly.
"Impeccable taste. Are you the family rebel, then?"
"Rebel?" repeated Callista, surprised. "Quietly, perhaps. No one else notices; Jeremy and Gabriel's rebellion is more showy than mine. But now you've distracted me; I was supposed to show you to your room. Grandmother won't want you to stay in those clothes long." She gestured towards Sarah's jeans.
"Lady Dara rules her home with an iron fist," commented Sarah dryly. The woman looks harmless and lovable, but I suspect she's quite the opposite.
"She would like to."
Callista led her to the room next door. The sitting room was more a short hallway than anything, furnished only with a couple of chairs and a side-table. They went through it and into the bedroom; it was smaller than her chamber in the Labyrinth had been, and the ceiling was certainly much lower. A curtained bed , a chair, a desk, and a wardrobe nearly filled it up.
"Hopefully the clothes fit," said Callista in a tone that was almost apologetic. "Would you like me to stay?"
"Certainly!" replied Sarah, very firmly. The other girl smiled back at her, shyly again, and sat in the lone chair. Sarah opened the wardrobe and found a multitude of outfits staring back at her.
If closets full of clothing count as declarations of intent—and in the past, they have—then Angharad plans for me to stay for a long while.
Sarah sighed.
"What's the matter?" asked Callista.
"Nothing. Everything." Sarah pulled open a drawer and examined a pile of folded underthings dubiously. She shut it and began to pull out a green skirt.
"Well, which is it?" Callista laughed.
"Probably everything. You know, Lady Dara—Grandmother—sent me a letter awhile ago, when she first asked me to come here. I got the impression that she wanted me to marry some lord and stay Underground forever. I don't really want to do that. I don't think she's giving me a choice. Do you know anything about this?"
Sarah regarded the clothes with a little surprise. They were a very different style than the ones she had worn in the Goblin Kingdom—as was Callista's gown, she noticed. Less Renaissance, more Louis XV.
"I think... I'm sorry," said Callista in a rush. "I suppose I understand why you wouldn't want to be here. Yes, Grandmother was hoping to make a marriage for you, or at least that's the impression I got. I doubt she has much of a choice anymore; she told Her Highness about you, and Her Highness is determined that you form a connection with one of the Idunni lords. It would help greatly in the trade agreement she and King Gunnar are negotiating."
"What?" asked Sarah sharply. "Her Highness?"
"Princess Eseld. She's our liege lord, in Cadfian... Grandfather and Grandmother are diplomats in her service. King Gunnar is the king here in Idunn."
"It will help in the trade agreement?"
"Oh, yes. You see, the Daras are a side-branch of the Triest family, who are the rulers of Cadfian. Since you are a Dara, then a marriage with a nobleman of Idunn—particularly one related to King Gunnar's House—will be a sign of goodwill."
"That's so... medieval," said Sarah in disgust. Callista looked at her blankly. Sarah sighed again and looked down at the skirt in her grasp.
"Do you need help with that?"
"I think so." The skirt seemed simple enough, but what about the rest of the outfit? There were other pieces in the closet, but nothing she could identify. And obviously some of the Dubious Undergarments would be required. Petticoats and such. "I think I need help with everything."
Hand hidden under the cloth in her arms, Sarah conjured a crystal. A split-second of concentration, and the pendant around her neck had transferred into her hand. After that, it was easy to slide it into the back pocket of her jeans. It wouldn't do for my cousin to see this. Not yet, at least.
Twenty minutes later, the combined efforts of the two girls had squeezed Sarah into a corset, shift, bodice, stomacher, petticoat, and overskirt.
"I can't bend over," said Sarah mournfully, thinking of her Labyrinth-made clothes.
"That seems to be the least of your problems," replied Callista wryly. Sarah had to concede that.
A polite knock on the door intruded on their peace.
"Yes?" called Sarah after Callista seemed unwilling to speak.
"Miss Williams is required in the mistress's rooms," called a respectful voice from the other side of the door. The two girls exchanged glances with each other; after a moment of hesitation they filed toward the exit, Sarah in the lead.
Her summoner was a maid in livery, the Dara crest over her right breast. Three oak leaves. Sarah recognized the sigil from her letter's seal.
"This way, ma'am," said the maid. No stares, no exclamations, no curiosity in her face. Just polite blankness. It was refreshing, but did nothing to assuage her dread as she followed the maid out of her rooms.
"I'll be waiting for you," said Callista softly, attempting reassurance. "You will be fine."
Fine, how? wondered Sarah. Physically? Probably. Mentally? Probably. Emotionally? Probably. I doubt that any scars will be acquired. But if she bargains away my future and free will, well, that is most definitely not fine.
Sarah could hear raised voices as they approached Angharad's sitting room again, some familiar and some not.
Jeremy?
"... some trick of yours, Mother. I will not believe it. I have known Sarah for years—meager as my talents are, do you think I would have missed such a thing?"
"...calm down, brother! Hear her..."
"... she is being fetched, so you can see for yourself. There is a change..."
The maid knocked on the door, and spoke in the same toneless voice she had used with Sarah.
"Miss Williams, my lady."
"Send her in," replied Angharad's muffled voice, sounding less pleased than she had earlier that afternoon. Sarah raised her chin as the door opened and swept inside with as much dignity as she could muster.
She hadn't expected a full family gathering. Jeremy was there, yes, dressed in a button-down shirt and nice khaki slacks. But his brother and sister were there as well, accompanied by their spouses. Callistus Dara sat next to his wife, somehow managing to look aging and portly and handsome at the same time. Sarah ran through the others' names in her head: Tristam the brother, his wife Gwyneth, Rhoslyn the sister, her husband Maddox.
Seven pairs of eyes stared at her intently, sizing her up like a butcher looking at cuts of meat. The appearance of familiarity, lent by the fine furniture and clothing, faded away under the strength of their combined gaze. They were still and unmoving, gorgeous, alien and predatory. Sarah was just a fragile and ugly human.
No, she remembered slowly, through a heavy curtain of fear, No, I'm not.
I have as much power as they, more power; I am as bright and beautiful as they are; someday, perhaps, I will be far older than they are. Lord Fellmarch could cut them, bleed them, kill them, while I would survive.
I am stronger than they are.
I am thinking like Sarah-daughter-of-Robert-sister-of-Toby-friend-of-Dinah, but her time is past. Right now, I need to think like Sarah-wielder-of-magic-consort-of-kings.
This new frame of mind would require practice, but Sarah gave it a try nonetheless.
"Hello, Jeremy. How is my mother?" Her voice was calm and disinterested, though her eyes flickered uneasily over the others in the room. Jeremy, standing, flinched a little at her voice. He leaned forward slightly, but didn't step towards her.
"She was well when I left her. She knows nothing of this." There was pain in his eyes, confusion, and helplessness too, which unnerved Sarah. The girl had hoped he would provide an avenue of escape.
"Well, I'm convinced," interrupted Tristam peremptorily, eyes trailing over her figure and up to her face. "Jeremiel?"
"I don't understand," murmured her stepfather, no longer standing up for her humanity.
"You have dwelt too long among humans," said Rhoslyn reproachfully. "Your senses are blunted; even ours were, in the polluted air of the Aboveground."
"None of us noticed either," added Maddox with a hint of a grin. Gwyneth sniffed.
"We saw her but a moment," replied the black-haired woman. "Though, I believe I did mention that she was uncommonly pretty for a human girl. Did I not say so, Angharad?"
"I do not remember that particulars of the conversation," snapped Lady Dara. "Callistus, what is your opinion?"
"Obviously the girl is one of our race. The only question is how. Our son denies siring her, so a man of another house must be her father. How is that to be dealt with?"
They were ignoring her. Discussing her parentage and her future without deigning to acknowledge her presence in the room. The nerve of them.
"Why are you so certain I'm one of you?" asked Sarah curtly. "There are more choices than just 'human' and 'Shining One', aren't there?"
The seven pairs of eyes turned to her once again. Tristam snorted.
"My dear girl, please stay out of matters you cannot comprehend," he said, blowing her off. He looked back at Callistus. "Legitimate or bastard, it hardly matters. Someone clearly performed the changeling spell, or else she would not have aged at the human speed—and she wouldn't have appeared human for so long. Whatever family she had abandoned her. She is now a scion of of House Dara, and should be treated as such."
If the situation hadn't been so dire, Sarah would have been amused at their certainty.
Won't they be surprised when they find out the truth, she mused grimly. And I suppose they will. I'm not going to be able to escape this quietly. If I manage to just leave, they'll gather me right up again. I'll have to prove that I don't belong to them.
Unfortunate, really, since she was so leery of asking Jareth for help. She'd try to think of a better plan; Jareth would be her last resort.
"If I'm not needed here..?" interrupted Sarah, torn between curiosity and anger. Angharad reached toward her and patted her absently on the shoulder.
"You can run along now, my dear. Your other cousins will want to greet you, I'm sure."
I'm sure they will, she thought. In one way or another.
"I'll escort you out," said Jeremy hastily, moving to Sarah's side. "Mother, Father, I'll return momentarily."
Sarah didn't start begging until the door was closed.
"Jeremy, you have to get me out of here."
"It's not that easy," he growled, hands raising to curl into his short hair. He was looking towards the sitting room when he said it, his anger directed at his family and not at her. "Bloody fucking hell. If I had known this would happen when I married your mum... I'm sorry, Sarah. Really I am."
"Hey, not your fault," Sarah said. It was true. She wasn't blaming Jeremy for any of this—he was a nice guy. His relatives were jerks, but he could hardly help that. "You didn't know I'd turn out to be... well... something else."
"Yes, about that." His strained face turned toward her, expression stern. "Do you know anything about this business?"
"I looked the same as always until I came into the Underground," replied Sarah innocently. Not exactly a lie. I mean, I didn't change until I started learning magic in the Labyrinth.. "I don't know how it happened."
Jeremy muttered something under his breath that she didn't catch.
"You're my stepfather, though—can't you do something? Forbid me to marry? Dedicate me to a chaste religious order?"
"Unfortunately, no." He frowned fiercely. "I'm not the head of the House—my father is. I might have had some sway over his decisions if I lived here in the Underground, but I'm the black sheep. My magical ability isn't worth a damn and I hardly ever show my face in Idunn. In other words, my opinion isn't worth much. He'll just do whatever Mother tells him."
"Oh." Sarah's shoulders slumped ever-so-slightly. Jeremy sighed heavily.
"Look, I'm not going to just throw you to the wolves. I still have friends in this kingdom; I'll see what I can do. If nothing else, I can find a fiancé for you that won't interfere in your life." His gaze turned thoughtful. "I know that Beoric's son is playing for the other team, if you follow me —a marriage of convenience would benefit him as well."
Not much of an escape plan, thought Sarah sourly. Looks like I'm still on my own.
"I really don't want to get married at all, you know," she commented sarcastically. Jeremy raised an eyebrow.
"I'll do my best, but don't hold your breath."
Sarah grimaced and Jeremy patted her gently on the back, an attempt at consolation. A kind attempt. He went back into the room and Sarah walked back down the long hallway, alone this time.
Returning to Callista's rooms, she found all five of her cousins lying in wait for her. Callista was squeezed into an armchair, reading a book and looking harassed. The others were talking languidly. Owain, raven-haired and beautiful, was lounging on the floor, leaning up against a love-seat. Moira and Jessamyn , one fiery and one dark but both pale, were sitting on top of the love-seat and leaning against each other. Gabriel sat alone on a couch, facing the other three.
This was the first time she had ever seen all of them assembled. Callista was obviously the youngest; the two girls looked to be the same age as Sarah herself. Owain might have been a little older, nineteen or twenty, while Gabriel definitely was a couple years older than that.
"Well, I'll be damned," began Owain when she entered the room, eyes flicking up and down her body appreciatively. An unconscious imitation of his father. "It's true. If I weren't already betrothed, I'd marry her myself."
"I know you can't avoid idiocy, but is incest really necessary as well?" Gabriel's voice was a study in disdain. He examined his fingernails, not looking up. Callista shot Sarah a pained glance and Jessamyn tittered behind her hand.
"That never stopped those two," countered Owain, nodding towards the girls next to him.
"There's no blood connection between Sarah and him," Moira pointed out calmly, ignoring her cousin's jibe. Jessamyn, though, was shooting her brother a venomous glare.
"As far as we know," interrupted Gabriel. "Which isn't very far. We've only ruled out Uncle Jeremiel."
"She could be one of Father's byblows," said Jessamyn, smirking. "She could be one of your byblows, Owain, couldn't she? Wouldn't that be kinky."
Sarah gaped. She couldn't help herself. Gabriel caught her eye, then, and patted a seat next to himself.
"Come, cousin, you may as well sit down if we're going to snipe at each other."
She did, grateful for what cool friendliness he afforded her. Owain leered at her from across the room.
"Why, cousin," Owain said, mocking Gabriel but speaking to her. "You are a cold one. I compliment you, express my interest, and you refuse me for our sarcastic kinsman. This won't do."
"I believe I rejected your propositions some months ago," replied Sarah frigidly. "Don't make me do it again."
Jessamyn and Moira laughed identical tinkling laughs, but Sarah wasn't so naïve as to believe it a friendly gesture; they were just amused at the insult to Owain.
And I thought that Jareth was bad, she thought morosely. This is just childish.
She was tired, hungry, worried, and her corset was jabbing her in the ribs. Sarah didn't have the patience for her cousin's games.
"When will dinner be served, Gabriel?" she asked abruptly.
"In an hour or so, I'd presume," he replied in a scrupulously polite tone. As if the others would actually be influenced by his good example. "Unless, of course, you would like to eat now—your journey must have been taxing. A tray could be brought to your rooms."
Of course it hadn't been taxing—the trip had taken all of a moment. This was a polite way of saying, if you'd like to be rid of these irritating brats, just say the word.
"That does sound appealing," she agreed with false enthusiasm. "I am quite exhausted. Callista, would you like to join me? Perhaps you can answer a few questions I have."
Callista jumped when she heard her name, head darting up to identify the source. She blinked rapidly as Sarah's words registered in her brain.
"I—that is—sure." She smiled belatedly, but brightly. "I'd be happy to, if you don't mind."
"Not at all. Gabriel, thank you for the suggestion. If the rest of you will excuse me..?" Not that I particularly care whether they will or not.
"But we've hardly spoken to you," said Owain mildly, batting his long black eyelashes over his sapphire-blue eyes.
"I don't know what you want to ask Callista about," added Jessamyn, "But I hope it's nothing much. She doesn't know anything about social affairs."
"If I were being betrothed in two days," said Moira, "I'd want to know a bit about my choices first."
"We can help with that," finished Jessamyn.
Inwardly, Sarah was shrieking two days?! But outwardly, she just smiled frostily. A baring of teeth.
"I'll let you know if I need advice," she lied blithely. "Come on, Callista, let's go."
Sarah grabbed Callista's arm as the other girl joined her, a seemingly friendly gesture, and held as they walked out the door. A close look would have shown that Sarah's fingers were digging into the black-haired girl's skin.
"Two days?" Sarah whispered in a panicked voice, once the door swung shut behind them. "What did she mean, two days?"
"Um." Callista looked sheepish. "Usually, all birth, death, marriage, and betrothal announcements are made at the first Court function of the year—the ball. Which is the day after tomorrow. But they might make an exception for you, seeing as you just got here."
"I thought I had weeks," Sarah said numbly as they entered her room. "At least a month. Do you really think they'll hold me to it?"
"I don't know." Callista bit her lower lip, looking thoughtful and regretful and apologetic. "Maybe. It is a big tradition, and I think Grandmother has already arranged meetings for tomorrow."
"Meetings!" exclaimed Sarah.
"Well, yes. To see what you look like, make sure you're not some drooling lunatic, that sort of thing." Callista attempted a weak smile. Sarah stared.
"Things will change now, if you're not actually human like we thought. There might be more suitors for you that way."
Sarah stared.
"Sarah?" Callista looked worried now, eyes wide. "Are you alright?"
"Two days. How can I come up with an escape plan in two days?"
"Escape? You think you can escape?"
"I have to escape! I can't stay here, shackled to some man I don't know! Anything's better than that, even if I have kneel down and beg at the feet of J—" Sarah shut her mouth quickly. She let go of Callista's arm with a pat and looked at her hands.
"It won't be so bad. I can keep you company, and Gabriel too. It will be nice, having a friend around instead of just Owain and Jessamyn." She looked at Sarah hopefully.
I like you, but I don't like you that much. The thought was painfully selfish, but completely true. Here comes the cruelty again. I pity the girl, having to live with these people, but not enough to do anything about it.
"Let's have dinner," Sarah suggested. "And then I want you to tell me everything you know about this ball that we're going to."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
A/N: And another one bites the dust! Another chapter, that is. Yes, I am a Queen fan. Kudos to everyone who's recognized the Queen references in some of my chapter titles (Labellily!) Hee hee. Can you spot the other song lyrics that I use?
So... no Jareth. No Jareth in the next chapter either, I'm saddened to admit, though a mention of him will definitely be made. But the chapter after that should be the long awaited ball... and the climax of the story? Dun dun dun... we shall see. Will Sarah call Jareth? Will she kick Owain's pervy ass? Will she stomp on Jeremy for being a weenie? Will she just totally pwn everybody (forgive the 1337 slang)? Stay tuned for further developments.
A round of applause (and a giant w00t) to reviewers new and old: Acantha Mardivey, Cariah Delonne, Velf, Moonjava, Kathleen, Bex Drake, Anisky, Labellily, GoldenUsagi, Ophelia Eternal, Tellergirl, Midnight Lady, Lady Ione Athene, Solea, Lhiata, Fortune-the-vamp, Dark Avalon, Lyn, Eleanora Rose, Robyn Maddison, Jack Sparrows luv, Keito-chan, Shadow, Earthbrat, Shipperchick and Jill. You are the wind beneath my wings, etc, etc. Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto. You get the picture.
Happy New Years!