Chapter Eighteen: Where There's A Will...
Midmorning found Sarah dressed and ensconced in the Dara manor's drawing room, bookended on the couch by Callista and Jessamyn. An arrangement of fruit and dainty, sugar-covered pastries sat on the low table in front of them; the food that Sarah had already eaten was threatening to make a reappearance on the inlaid floor.
"Who's coming first, then?" asked Sarah, looking ornery. Her companions exchanged glances, the first sisterly gesture Sarah had seen out of them. Apparently they were united in the effort to make Sarah presentable.
"Laras Haraldur," Jessamyn offered languidly. "A count's fourth son. Wealthy." A pause. "Fairly good-looking." Another pause. "A bit older than Gabriel."
"What, exactly, am I supposed to say to this man?" Sarah's brow was drawn low over her eyes and her mouth was firmly set. "Hello, how-do-you-do? How do you feel about the Aboveground? What's your opinion on state-sanctioned rape? Do you promise not to beat me? Oh, wait, I forgot. They've come to interview me, not let me interview them."
The sisters were at a loss for words.
"You... won't... have to talk for very long," stammered Callista. "Each visitor will only stay for a quarter of an hour, at the most."
"I see. An archaic form of speed-dating."
"Sarah." Jessamyn's affected voice was tinged with irritation. "Don't be difficult. Since you're here, you might as well make the best of it. If you sit here and insult every man who comes to see you, you're going to end up with someone horrible."
"Ideally, I'd end up with no one," Sarah replied in an undertone. So perhaps my plan to drool and babble to myself would backfire?
"Things don't work that way," Jessamyn said severely. "You are part of the trade treaty now. As a member of House Dara, you will wed when Princess Eseld commands."
I'd really like to give that woman a piece of my mind, Sarah thought. In the form of several chunks of concrete flying at her head.
"Jess, don't we need to..?" Callista was saying softly to her sister. Sarah looked at them questioningly when Jessamyn nodded briskly. The older sister rose to stand in front of Sarah.
"Right. Listen up, Sarah. The first suitor, Lord Haraldur, is of equal station with us. How do you think you'd address him?"
"I have no clue. Please, enlighten me."
"Just 'sir' in normal conversation, as he's older than you—but if there's another man in the room, which makes things more confusing, you could say Lord Haraldur. If he decides he likes you, he might ask you to use his given name; he's not that much older than us, so that's a possibility."
"Hmm," replied Sarah, unimpressed.
"When he comes in, you should make a low curtsy without bending your head or back—you do know how to curtsy, don't you?" Jessamyn's voice suddenly became worried, as if she had just thought of this. Sarah's mouth crooked up on one side, in spite of herself.
"Yes, I know how to curtsy."
"Good. Good. As I was saying, a shallow curtsy, and offer him your hand to kiss. Do not shake his hand. I understand that some humans do that in the Aboveground, but it is not at all proper here."
"I see."
"Callista," asked Jessamyn, "There are none of lesser station, are there? We won't have to worry about that for now."
"Lir Haldor?" Callista proposed meekly. Her sister considered this as Sarah watched, bemused. She felt like a bystander to her own impending doom.
"I—I don't know." Jessamyn appeared to be affronted by her own stupidity. "I shall have to ask Mama. Now, Sarah, don't worry, because Callista or I will tell you what to do before each meeting. There are different greetings for every station and position, but we don't expect you to memorize them now."
"Thank goodness," Sarah replied mildly, only a very weak attempt at sarcasm. Her companions didn't seem to notice.
"You will have to memorize them before the ball, though. Callista will follow you, though, won't you Callista? You won't have anything better to do, poor thing."
Callista smiled weakly, caught between a desire not to offend Sarah and a desire to snap at her older sister.
"And you will have to learn a few dances, so as not to embarrass yourself completely." Jessamyn paused, thinking. "A gown is being remade for you, so we don't have to see to that. There are other customs to know, for living at court, but that will have to wait; I'm sure everyone will be understanding, knowing that you've lived among humans until now."
Little bitch, thought Sarah as she smiled sweetly.
"Certainly," she said aloud. Jessamyn looked pleased at her compliance.
"Well, then. Mama will come down to sit with us soon, and then the men should start arriving."
Sarah nodded and tugged at her skirts, trying but failing to find a comfortable position in her corset. This feels like a nightmare, her brain muttered. Some horrible, pizza-after-midnight induced dream. When did my life run off the rails? Why am I here still? Fuck it. And to hell with stupid Jareth, who's in too much of a snit to come and whisk me away. Not that I want him to. I'm gonna get out of here myself. Right after I figure out how.
And so, eventually, it began.
Bachelor #1: Laras Haraldur.
Sandy hair, twentysomething, earnest smile and muddy hazel eyes. Beautiful, as all the Shining Ones were beautiful, with a glow to his skin that had nothing to do with light.
"Do you much enjoy the seaside, Miss Williams?" he asked politely. Gwyneth Dara, seated next to and a little behind Lord Haraldur, mouthed estates—near—ocean.
"Oh, I don't know," Sarah simpered in return. "The wind does simply awful things to my hair. I do quite love sunbathing, though—pity, I don't think they sell bikinis here in the Underground, do they?" Sarah laughed a little fluttering laugh. Laras blinked and gaped, and Gwyneth scowled. Callista, seated close to Sarah on the couch, was trembling. Glancing to the side, Sarah saw her cousin's mouth pressed into a thin, desperate line, eyes stretched wide and cheeks flushed.
Sarah smiled at Laras Haraldur innocently and sipped at a porcelain cup of vile tea.
Bachelor #2: Gervaise Erastus.
Pale blue eyes, thirtysomething. Stocky and noticeably muscular, a change from the other men she had seen in the Underground. His skin was tanned, too, not the smooth perfection she had seen otherwise. Still pretty, though.
"The king's battle-leader," whispered Jessamyn before he came in, "But born a commoner."
"Do you ride much, Miss Williams?" General Erastus asked in a gruff baritone. "I understand that humans still do that, in the Aboveground?"
"Ride what?" Sarah asked, eyes wide. "Bicycles? Motorcycles? Mechanical bulls? Yes, no, and and not without a good deal of alcohol, respectively."
The general's eyebrows rose dramatically; Sarah was certain that, in all she had said, he had only understood the 'good deal of alcohol' part. He looked intrigued; Aunt Gwyneth looked horrified.
"Oh," exclaimed Sarah, aghast. "Oh, sir, did you mean horses? How... quaint."
Callista excused herself with a mumbled apology and disappeared through a door. Sarah imagined that she heard a gasping chortle from another room, but none of the others seemed to have heard anything.
Bachelors #3 and #4 came and went. Sarah amused herself by saying the most outrageous things that came to mind. After an hour, both Gwyneth and Jessamyn looked ready to murder her.
"You will stop this nonsense right now!" snapped Aunt Gwyneth after the last contestant left, brown eyes snapping and carefully-curled hair bouncing. "You should be honored that these men are interested in you, a foundling raised by humans and lucky enough to be stumbled upon by our family! Abandoned by whoever your real family was, Lady Dara was willing to take you in and make you one of her own! Show some respect and gratitude, girl!"
"Of course I'm grateful," growled Sarah through gritted teeth. "I don't know what you're talking about. Can't you see how happy I am to be here? I'm simply thrilled to be auctioned off by some princess I've never met, in order to secure a treaty in a land I've never heard of, much less sworn allegiance to."
"I cannot deal with you!" Gwyneth said shrilly. "Jessamyn, come—we're leaving. Rhoslyn and Moira can take a turn dealing with this hellion."
The two of them turned and flounced out of the room, leaving Sarah alone in the richly-decorated drawing room.
"Thank God for peace and quiet," Sarah muttered. She grabbed a tiny cake from the refreshments on the table, stuffing all of it in her mouth at one time. Now that nervousness had morphed into irritation, she found that she was ravenous.
The girl had barely swallowed when the double-doors opened again. She looked up, expecting her other aunt and girl-cousin to arrive, but was surprised to see a young boy slide through. He might have been ten years old, if he were a human; his clothing was quite fine and his face hinted at future beauty. He was alone.
"Hallo," he greeted genially, sliding into the chair across from her. "D'you mind if I have a bite? I didn't eat my breakfast today."
"Certainly," replied Sarah, pursing her lips in combined amusement and bemusement. "I'm hungry, myself. Those frosted cakes, there, are quite good."
"Mmpgh. Yeth. Lady Dawa—'scuse me, Lady Dara always has wonderful food at her parties. When I come. Not too often. Usually it's just for grown-ups, but sometimes me and my brothers are allowed. I went to Callista's birthday party. She's nice, and not so much older than me."
"Not so much," Sarah agreed. Who is this kid and where did he come from?
"You'd be Sarah, then?"
"That's me."
I could see Toby looking like him, in a few more years. Shiny wheaten hair, gangly; except this one has dark eyes. Any reminder of her family was comforting, even if it was in the form of an unknown but gregarious boy.
"I thought so. Mother told me about you—well, not really that much, but she was gossiping with Miniver's mother, so I heard a lot more. Are you a human?"
"Nope," Sarah replied. "Everyone thought I was, for awhile, but now they've decided that I'm not."
"That's strange," said the boy before pushing a cookie into his mouth. And I agree with him. " You 'ould fink 'ey'd nodice somefink 'ike 'at. Mmpgh. If they'd seen you before. You're not one of us, though are you?"
"What do you think?" asked Sarah, curious that he would even ask that. From the mouths of babes...
"Naw," he said thoughtfully, studying her with his long-lashed eyes. He stroked his chin with one hand, as if pulling on a beard. Sarah suppressed a grin. "I mean, you Shine, but you don't look like us. You look like... I don't know. Too wild."
Sarah had noticed that too, to some extent. All thing Shining Ones, as beautiful as they were, had a weird sameness about them; as if someone had carbon-copied each face, only making variations for gender and coloring. There was a similarity to their features, and stiffness in their manner. Only Jeremy really escaped this assessment, but he had been living among humans for the past who-knows-how-many years. Callista did too, to a much smaller extent. Maybe Gabriel.
"Very perceptive of you," Sarah complimented him, eyebrows drawn low in thought. "No one else has seen that in me."
"It may just be your human upbringing, of course," he said, solemn. Sarah smiled crookedly.
"It may be, at that. Who knows?" I do, for one.
"You are coming to the ball, are you not?" asked the little boy. Sarah nodded.
"I am. I have to. Will I see you there, young master?"
"Not me. I'm too young. Not any of the children. The parents are nervous, I think, when the Goblin King is around. As if he would just steal us without a wish." The boy's voice was derisive, as if he couldn't believe the adults' stupidity. Sarah froze.
"The Goblin King?" she asked, faintly.
"Yes. Don't you know of the Goblin King?"
"I—I have heard him mentioned," Sarah stuttered. "But what do you mean?"
"Well—," he plucked a grape from a bowl and ate it, "— he is a king. He's the only one of the old ones left, the people who aren't Shining Ones but aren't the lesser kind either. He is very old, and he takes little children away if you wish them to him. I dunno why, but everyone knows he has to. Filip-my-cousin's-cousin wished his little sister away a few days ago, but he got her back. He says a lady helped him in the maze, which is strange because I've never heard of it before but never mind about that. Anyway, people are scared of him because he is very powerful and he steals children, but he's also a king so Un—so King Gunnar invites him to Court functions anyway. Our king isn't afraid of him. Some other people aren't afraid of him either, but a lot of people are. So us children never get to go to the ball until we're older."
The boy gulped in a breath and ate another five grapes. Sarah blinked and computed this deluge of information. The part about his cousin's-cousin caught her attention, but she pushed the thought aside for a moment.
I guess that my sometime-teacher and onetime-pillow will be making an appearance after all. The asshole. Now what do I do with this knowledge?
Sarah wasn't sure whether the lurching feeling in her stomach was fear, anticipation, indigestion, or something else altogether.
"You know," she addressed the boy, "I don't know your name. Hardly fair, if you have mine."
The boy flushed a little bit around the ears, looking sheepish.
"Um. I'm sorry. I'm a very rude person, Mother says, but I forget these things sometimes. She was supposed to come here with me, but I escaped from her. My name's Lir Haldor." He offered her an impish smile. "Pleased to meet you. But I should probably be going, now—Mother will find me soon, and I don't want her fussing around us."
He stood and bowed a little in front of her, before taking her hand and kissing it as gallantly as any of her suitors had. Then he sauntered back out of the doors. Sarah shook her head in wonder.
What an odd lad. Lir Haldor—now why does that name sound familiar?
A few minutes later, Callista's head popped into the room, looking back and forth.
"I'm sorry for the delay, but your next visitor is missing. He seems to have escaped his overseer."
Sarah was struck with a horrifying thought.
"What is this one's name?" she asked weakly.
"Lir Haldor. He's the youngest son of one of the king's half-brothers. Quite an honor, even if he is young and a half-nephew."
Sarah's jaws worked up and down before she could get any sound to come out.
"Holy crap."
"What?"
"You are kidding me. You are kidding me. You are not saying that one of my potential husbands is a ten-year-old!"
"He's not ten," Callista said, affronted. "He's at least fifty or sixty, I should think. I don't know how that works out in human years." A light went on in her head. "Wait—how did you know? Have you seen him?"
"Yes! He was in here! We had a nice long chat, and I quite liked him, but not in a marrying way. My God, are you people into pedophilia?"
"Calm down, Sarah! It's just a betrothal. You might not even marry him until he comes of age. Even if you do, you'd hold off on... relations... until he's old enough. What do you think we are?" Callista, sweet mild Callista, looked offended and hurt. Sarah couldn't bring herself to feel sorry.
"And I will be how old by then? That won't make things any better!"
"If you had acted sensibly with the grown men, perhaps you wouldn't have to worry about it!" Callista said. She withdrew from the room and shut the door with a loud click behind her.
The day wore on, and reinforcements showed up in the form of Aunt Rhoslyn and cousin Moira.
Bachelor #6: Ailil Fiachra.
Raven-haired, slate-eyed, slim, and gorgeous. Older than Laras but younger than Gervaise—in other circumstances, Sarah would have been tempted. At the moment, she was scornful. Her aunt had informed her that he was an heir to a barony, but a knight in his own right.
"My father is quite close with your own, I believe," he told her politely. "Beoric Fiachra. Has he mentioned him to you before?"
Ah, yes, thought Sarah, remembering her heated conversation with Jeremy the day before. Beoric's son—this must be who was talking about. The last resort, the man who prefers other men. I guess my step-father was unable to prevent my upcoming nuptials. What a surprise.
"He has, actually," Sarah replied, not mentioning Jeremy's exact words. Probably that would be a bad move. "How nice to meet a friend of the family."
Sarah was too weary to continue with her previous word-games. She conducted the meeting straightforwardly and pleasantly. When Ailil took his leave, she breathed a heavy sigh of relief.
The ordeal was over. For now.
"I'm sorry if I was short with you, before," said Callista remorsefully as they ate lunch in Callista's sitting room. "I shouldn't be surprised that you're out of sorts. Did you like any of them?"
"Did I like them?" repeated Sarah ruminatively. "Yes, I liked some of them, though the first one was boring and the third one seemed kind of pervy. I definitely liked Lir. But I don't want to marry any of them. Is that so hard to understand? Doesn't anyone here marry for love?"
"Very rarely." Callista smiled slightly. "Almost everyone is betrothed when they're children. A few of your suitors are younger sons in large families, so they've been allowed to make their own choices. General Erastus was born a commoner, so he too can pick his own spouse as well. Lir Haldor, of course, is still a child. And those of us with stunted magical abilities, like Uncle Jeremy and me, are not particularly desirable as matches."
"You can't do magic?" asked Sarah, suddenly understanding her other cousins' disdain for the girl.
"A little bit, but not reliably. Maybe I'll go live in the Aboveground like Jeremy, someday. Here, our disability is something of a double-edged sword. Since we aren't betrothed, we are free to marry for love; but who would want us, as we are?"
"We should both escape," proposed Sarah. "You can come with me back to the Aboveground; we could go to college together and you can settle down with a nice human man who thinks that you're gorgeous and perfect."
"Wishful thinking," said Callista ruefully. "No, I'll reach my majority soon enough, and then I can go off on my own. As for you—well, good luck."
"What if I don't have magic?" Sarah asked, the thought occurring to her for the first time. "Would they let me go?"
"Sorry." Callista laughed. "Are you joking? Of course you do. Gabriel said he's never seen someone Shine so bright as when you were yelling at Grandmother. That means you have potential, a lot of it. I'm sure that you'll be taught magic later, once you get settled in."
"Oh." There goes that idea. "Damn."
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A couple hours were spent teaching Sarah the intricacies of Idunni ballroom dancing, a tiring if not entirely unenjoyable pursuit. This was followed by a mind-numbing etiquette lesson, a family dinner-from-hell, and a quick retreat to her bedroom.
Sarah was lying on her bed in a long white nightgown, staring at the pale ceiling.
Why am I just lying here? Why am I not doing anything? Why aren't I constructing a rope out of the sheets, and lowering myself out of the window? How is this still happening to me?
The ceiling remained silent, ignoring her questions. Sarah pounded a fist against the blue counterpane, face twisting into a frustrated grimace.
Oh, I could stay here, as I could have stayed with Jareth; I could marry one of these pretty young, not-so-young, and too-young men. Live in this strange pretty world, float through the days... the easy path. Slowly sucking my identity from me, day after day. That's the hard part, the part I've been struggling with since this mess began. How do I preserve my self, how do I stay me
Sarah formed a crystal in the palm of her hand, mesmerized by the shimmer and glow inside its thin shell. She threw it up in the air and aimed a barely-formed thought at it, pure willpower. The crystal dissipated at the height of its journey, leaving the girl's gold-and-silver pendent to fall back down into her hand.
I can form pure magic out of thin air, summon objects to myself with a thought. I have changed, am changing, will continue to change. But I do have the power, I think, to prevent myself from changing into something completely undesirable.
She had to get out of Idunn, but she also had to convince the Daras not to retrieve her the moment she left.
A grand gesture will be required. Something that will put me perpetually off-limits.
The ball would provide plenty of witnesses, hundreds in fact. A grand gesture indeed.
What form will this gesture take?
Sarah rubbed the smooth surface of her pendent with a thumb, admiring the light reflecting off of the cool metal. Then she used a crystal to replace it in her wardrobe, hidden in a bundle of cloth in a drawer.
These people are sadly mistaken in their assumptions about me. If they think I'll just roll over and listen to their commands. If they think I'm their property. If they think that I'm simply a nice, safe, untrained little Shining One—whatever asinine name they call themselves—and can't do a thing to stop them.
Sarah smiled faintly to herself, coral-red lips curving over the cold carved alabaster of her face. She might actually enjoy this.
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A/N: A short bridge chapter—thank God I've gotten through it! Finally, the interesting bits are coming up next... and I am very happy to be writing them.
Muchos gracias to Solea, Moonjava, Velf, Acantha Mardivey, Eleanora Rose, Cariah Delonne, GoldenUsagi, Writer from Rivendell, Robyn Maddison, mav1, Midnight Lady, Dreamerwithblades, Fortune-the-vamp, Bex Drake, Bluegirl2751, Lyn, Draegon-fire, HarrySlytherinson, The Old Fart, Mej, and Pantherette!