Chapter Nineteen: Back in Black
A/N: Okay, first I will say—don't shoot me, please. This chapter is only half of a chapter. It is 11 pages, the size of a normal chapter, so hopefully that will appease you... but events are cut off halfway. I really want to revise the second half, and this chapter was really long, so I'm going to be posting the second half as Ch.20 in a couple of days. I figured that you'd want an update as soon as you can, and I felt really bad about taking so long, so... here's this to tide you over.
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They let her out of the house, that last day, which came as a surprise to Sarah. She had forgotten that her prison wasn't a conventional one; it stretched above her, below her, and all around, farther than the eye could see. Why shouldn't they let her explore it?
On a suggestion from one of her aunts, Sarah piled into a closed carriage with her plethora of cousins—uncomfortable, because Jessamyn was still annoyed with her and Owain was still a lech. The ride was stuffy and crowded, even with the window open, but Sarah did her best to ignore the noise inside and concentrate on the scenery ambling past them.
Idunn was more civilized a place than the Goblin Kingdom would ever be; this was a place of neat orderly magic, not the wild and treacherous kind that lurked in the corners of the Labyrinth. Ironically, this land seemed almost human by comparison. Not that I'd ever dare to say that aloud, Sarah thought with amusement. They would have a fit. But it's true; they aren't so different from the despised humans as they think, while the lesser fairies that they look down upon are actually more otherworldly than they are.
The road they traveled was cobblestone, picturesque but jarring when combined with the rolling of the carriage wheels. Slightly inclined, as well. Short stone walls, perhaps two or three feet high, divided the road from the surrounding countryside. Beyond the walls was open field, broken by rocky outcroppings and the occasional manor perched on top. For the first time, Sarah realized that they were in the mountains.
"This is... odd," Sarah said hesitantly. "Is there no capital city?"
"Of course there's a capital," Jessamyn replied brusquely. "We'll be there soon enough."
"It's on the other side of the mountain," said Callista helpfully. "And our manor is in the lowlands, you see, while the king lives further up. The city cascades down the mountainside."
"Who lives in these other places?"
"Other ambassadors' families," Gabriel said. He sat across from Sarah, while Callista was squeezed next to her. "It's a complicated system. All of the noble families have their own homes somewhere in Idunn. Being ambassadors, Grandmother and Grandfather and the others live fairly close to the king. When Court isn't in session, they reside here with the family. When it is in session, they live in the palace with other nobles. Unless they own homes in town. The families, though, not being needed for political affairs, can live down here or up there as they desire."
"I'm sorry I asked," Sarah said dryly. "So. Why are we going the palace now?"
"We're going to visit with friends," Jessamyn said crossly. "You can do what you like."
"Ah-ha."
"Cheer up, Jess," chided Moira. "Sarah can come with us if she wants. You'll be perfectly polite this time, Sarah, won't you? It would be nice if you could make a few acquaintances before tonight."
"Don't want to be left without anyone to dance with," Owain added in a sing-song voice.
Sarah winced.
"There's a nice view from the palace grounds," Gabriel added, turning his face toward the window and rolling his eyes discreetly. "And the gardens are quite lovely this time of year."
"Hmm," replied Sarah noncommittally.
The carriage rolled along up the road and eventually they rolled into the city. It was fairly impressive, curling around the slope of the mountain as it did, with the palace perched at the top. Pennants waved from the towers, lending the beige stone structure a festive air.
But Sarah wasn't in a mood to be impressed. It was a small mountain, anyways. And she'd seen castles before.
Liveried servants met them as they drove into a courtyard, taking the horses and opening the doors. Owain and the two older girls began to head in one direction, leaving Sarah with Callista and Gabriel.
"What about you?" Sarah asked Callista. She shrugged.
"I was going to go to the library," Callista said sheepishly. "It's very large."
Sarah, remembering her experiences the last time she had been in a library, looked towards Gabriel. He crooked an eyebrow at her.
"Well, come along then, if you're not feeling sociable." He turned and started walking towards a wooden door in a wall. Sarah jogged a few paces to catch up with him, wincing at the corset that imprisoned her ribs. No doubt I'd die of asphyxiation if I tried to run any distance in this get-up.
The door led to a narrow barrel-vaulted hallway, completely unadorned. At the end was another door, which her cousin pushed open confidently. Obviously he knows where he's going. They emerged onto a huge stone terrace, wide and smooth; the wind swept violently across it, pulling at Sarah's skirts and making her eyes water. Gabriel winced slightly and brushed his ruddy hair out of his face.
"It's a bit windy today," he commented in a raised voice, striding towards the edge of the terrace. Sarah grinned at the understatement.
"A bit," she called back. "So we're on the top of the mountain now?"
"Yes, though it hardly deserves the name. These are just foothills compared to the real ones." Reaching the railing at the edge of the terrace, Gabriel pointed into the distance. Craggy peaks jutted out beyond them, hazy and far away.
"You can see for miles from up here," he added. "Luck for us, it's a clear day."
Sarah nodded in agreement, glancing away from the mountains. They melted away as she turned her head, leaving a great flat plain in her view.
"What's that?" she yelled, the wind dampening her voice.
"A desert. Idunn has mountains to the north, desert to the west, ocean to the east, and farmland to the south. We're frontier-land, caged in on three sides."
"So all of this—" she gestured to the north and west, "—is uninhabited?"
"Near enough. The mountains are populated by barbarians—ogres mostly, though some say that there are still dragons lurking in the northern wastes. The desert is nigh impassable and almost empty. At the very center is the Goblin Kingdom and the Labyrinth, the only life for hundreds of miles. No one knows how it came to be there, alone in the dust."
Surprised, Sarah stared at the desert. She saw nothing but land, not even the tiniest speck that could have been the towers of the Goblin King's castle.
"Daedalus sucked the power from the land on the orders of King Minos," Sarah said to herself. "Leaving a waste. When the spell was broken, the wild magic was stuck in the form of the Labyrinth."
Gabriel turned his head sharply to look at her. His eyes narrowed.
"What did you say?" he yelled over the wind. Sarah shook her head.
"Nothing."
"Indeed." He paused. "Why don't we get out of this gale."
They found a set of rocky stairs leading down, depositing them on a gravel path lined with hedges. This was the garden mentioned before, a delicate pattern of bushes and flowerbeds that cascaded down the incline. The wind was gentler down there, with plants providing something of a barrier.
"Has Lady Dara picked out my husband yet?" Sarah asked, hoping to distract her companion in case he had heard her.
"You think that I would know?"
"Well. Maybe." Sarah halted. "Do you?"
"Yes. I believe she has."
"Who is it?"
"Does it really matter?" Gabriel smiled faintly. "You plan to fight it regardless."
"True enough." I think I can trust him. He seems sympathetic, at least. "Any advice on extricating myself from the situation?"
"Extricating." His lips twitched, almost another smile. "You could beg the king for his protection on the grounds that you're being mistreated by your House. But, strictly speaking, you're not. And your marriage benefits King Gunnar, so he'd be unlikely to intervene."
"Thanks for the help," mumbled Sarah sarcastically.
"I'm not done. There would be one other way, I think—if you could prove that House Dara has no right to offer you in marriage."
"Judging from your tone, you don't seem to think that they do have a right." The girl watched him carefully, annoyed by the blank expression on his face. Gabriel was hard to read.
"Uncle Jeremiel married your mother. If no other House has a prior claim on you, you belong to us."
"That wasn't an answer."
"You are an strange young woman, Sarah, and not only because of your so-sudden change of species." Sarah flinched slightly at the amusement in his voice. "I think that you know more than you let on, and I wish I knew exactly what that was. Perhaps it will be your key out of here; perhaps not. I can only tell you where the door is."
"I... see." Sarah offered him a tentative smile. "Thank you."
"My pleasure. As you Abovegrounders would say—you owe me one."
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Sarah's plan was simple—but,she insisted to herself, there is beauty in simplicity. And more importantly, there are fewer things to go horribly wrong. Simplicity is awesome.
This was the plan: Sarah would go to the ball. Somehow, she'd get everyone's attention. She's make a scene. She'd conjure some crystals, try to do some flashy magic. This would prove that she was not A-Dara-or-a-Shining-One-thank-you-very-much, but instead Jareth-kind. If all else failed, she'd find a pointy object and slash her wrists open, hoping A) she wouldn't die and B) everyone would notice and be terribly impressed by her mad healing skills.
And then, somehow, she'd find someone to take her home. Perhaps Gabriel would oblige her.
It's not such a bad plan, Sarah thought on the carriage ride back to the Dara manor. I mean, at least I have a plan. I haven't jumped into this willy-nilly, throwing tantrums and all that. There are a few weak spots, but that allows flexibility. Right? Right.
Jareth was the unknown factor in her machinations; she knew that he would be at the ball, but she didn't know what he was planning. There was no doubt he was plotting something—he was nothing if not devious. He practically oozed deviousness.
He made his first interference that evening. Lord and Lady Dara had left for the castle early to take care of political duties; the children were left to prepare for the ball on their own.
"Miss Sarah?" said a voice as Sarah entered her rooms. One of the ever-present maids was there, prim and staid as always—except this one had a slightly uneasy expression on her face. Callista filed in behind Sarah, nudging her out of the doorway.
"Yes?"
"There's a pro—I mean—there's a bit of a situation with your gown?" The maid ended the sentence on a high note, inadvertently turning it into a question. Sarah blinked.
"What do you mean, a situation?" demanded Callista, crossing her arms. "Viola, Sarah must have something to wear for the ball. Grandmother will be furious if it's not ready..."
"No!" protested Viola, looking more alarmed. "Don't tell the mistress! It's not—the gown is fine, it's just that... well..."
"What?" asked Sarah, curious.
"...you see, someone left you something else. I don't know where it came from."
"You're not making any sense, Viola," Callista said reasonably.
Viola was frustrated—Sarah was now the uneasy one.
"Where is it?" she asked abruptly.
"On the bed, inside," replied the maid, nodding her head toward Sarah's chamber. Sarah strode toward the door, ignoring the voices conversing behind her. Pushing the door open, she saw it—and began to understand why Viola had seemed so flustered.
A mass of shining silvery-gray fabric was stretched out upon the counterpane, rich even in the dim light of the room. Sarah stared and moved closer, holding her breath. It was a deep gray, almost exactly the same color she had worn to Linda and Jeremy's reception, with black and pale silver ribbons ornamenting the bodice, sleeves, and skirt. The shine resulted partially from the quality of the silk moire, but mostly from silver thread and milky seed pearls sewn into it.
Holy shit.
There was a small box next to it, roughly the size of both of her hands. She picked it up shakily, opened it, and found a small piece of paper folded inside. There were two words written on it.
You're it.
It was a challenge. That much was obvious.
Beneath the note were silver vines, the kind that could be woven into hair.
"Oh, my," gasped Callista as she came into the room. Sarah flicked her eyes over to her cousin; she was staring at the bed, Viola the maid hovering behind her. "That's... that's quite a dress."
"You're telling me," replied Sarah morosely. It was quite a dress. It definitely wasn't the sort of thing that an adopted member of an ambassadorial family would wear. This is a dress for a quee...
Sarah halted mid-thought.
What is Jareth playing at?
"Maybe Miss Sarah's betrothed sent it?" offered the maid timidly. Callista appeared to consider this. Sarah kept her mouth shut.
"I don't know if any of them were that rich," she said doubtfully. "And how would they know the measurements? And the betrothal was only decided today. It doesn't make sense."
Very discreetly, and with very little thought, Sarah squished the note up in her hand and made it disappear.
"Well, I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth," Sarah said blithely. The other two women looked at her blankly. Sarah rolled her eyes. "I'll wear it."
"Is that a good idea?" asked her cousin uncertainly. "I'm not sure Grandmother..."
"Grandmother can shove it. Viola, if you will assist me?"
Viola curtsied slightly and began to help unlace Sarah's bodice. Callista looked unhappy, but she didn't speak up again.
So it was done. A couple hours later, Sarah was dressed and coiffed, the silver vines woven expertly through her mass of mahogany-brown hair. Her gray skirts trailed on the ground behind her, divided down the front to show a paler petticoat bedecked with ribbon and ruffles and more pearls. The square neckline dipped low, showing a lot more cleavage than Sarah liked, but she was reassured when Callista's gown was little better. I'll just have to remember not to bend over, she thought as she studied her reflection.
"You look very nice," said Callista in a small voice, behind her, dressed in her own midnight-blue finery. Her eyes were very wide. "But this is still... strange."
"Quite," agreed Sarah amiably. She heard the sound of a door opening outside of her room, followed swiftly by swishing skirts and the creak of the bedroom door.
"Sarah, Callista love, we really need to be going—"
Moira, draped in pale green, halted in her tracks. Jessamyn, her ever-present shadow, stopped behind her.
"Someone sent me a dress," Sarah explained, somewhat cheered by their pole-axed expressions. Score one for the human chick. "A secret admirer, I guess."
"You can't just except a gift from a stranger; there are obligations connected it it. Grandmother will be angry," chided Jessamyn, predictably enough.
"Does she have to know? I can avoid her easily enough. She won't find out until we get there, at least, which will be too late."
All three of Sarah's cousins exchanged glances. Sarah sighed loudly.
"I am leaving. You can follow me, if you like, or stay here whimpering. I don't much care."
She flounced out of the room and downstairs. She was very proud that she tripped only once. After a few moments, she could hear the others walking slowly behind her.
"Mmm-mmm," remarked Owain from his post on the main floor, leaning against the banister. "You look good enough to eat, Sarah."
"Fuck off, Owain," Sarah replied briskly. Gabriel, standing next to the other young man, took in her appearance with a small grin. He didn't say anything. His thoughtful expression was telling enough.
They left, using magic to travel instead of the carriage. Gabriel took Sarah, Owain took Callista, and the other girls took themselves.
The ballroom of the palace was already fairly full when they finally arrived, men and women milling about in their best finery. The room was very tall, very long, and very wide, with heavy draperies covering high doors onto balconies. Quietly in the corner, a group of musicians was playing something complicated and indefinably foreign.
With shining skirts, vines in her hair, and a wondering expression on her face, Sarah entered the cavernous chamber. A niggling sense of familiarity was dancing in the back of her brain.
A couple swept past her and her cousins, looking both curious and amused as they glanced at her. They were followed by another, and then a group of several women, all looking at her with recognition on their faces. Sarah could imagine the whispers—the new Dara girl, daughter of the son that lives Aboveground. She was raised among humans... can you imagine?
Two beautiful pale-eyed men, arm-in-arm, gave her appreciative looks before moving past. A young woman close by laughed delightedly into her hand and murmured something to a companion.
I have done this before, Sarah realized with a jolt, an overwhelming sense of deja-vu enveloping her. The gown is darker and more adult, and I am older, and the room is larger, but... I've done this before.
The smirking faces, the disorientation, the beautiful people twirling slowly—she had seen something very similar, years ago, when Jareth had tried to entrap her in a dream. She had been very young then, unsure of herself, embarrassed by the honest appraisal in the eyes of the dancers. Their leers had bewildered her.
Now, though...
"Let's find a quiet spot to stand," whispered Callista into Sarah's ear. "We'll decide what to do then." The younger girl nodded her head across the room, toward an empty spot next to a row of potted trees. Sarah surveyed the wall of arrogant Fair Folk between them and their destination—she could see many blond heads in the crowd, but none of them were familiar. No Jareth in sight.
"Come on," Callista whispered. "Are you nervous?"
"Nervous," repeated Sarah at a normal volume, eyes flicking over the faces. Her voice sounded very far away, as if someone else were speaking through her. The voice didn't sound nervous at all.
There—a flash of pale, pale gold hovering over black—but no, it was gone.
Sarah Williams raised her chin very slightly, straightened her back, and drooped her eyelids just a little bit. She arranged her coral-red lips into an amused and arrogant smile. She glanced down at her cousin, who was shorter and dowdier and somehow younger.
"Not really," she replied. She was, after all, an actress.
"Brave."
"Nah." Sarah chuckled, self-mockingly. "Not brave. I'm stupid, and stubborn, and headstrong, and contrary, and short-tempered. If I were brave, I wouldn't be here at all." I would have had the nerve to talk to Jareth after that night, instead of running away.
"Braver than me," muttered Callista. She pulled the other girl through the throng, face tilted down at the floor. Sarah looked around in interest as they walked, careful not to meet anyone's eyes. "Everyone's staring at us."
"Yeah?"
"That's what you get for dressing above your station," Callista replied darkly. She maneuvered them between two trees, the niche offering them some modicum of privacy. She mostly blocked Sarah from everyone's view. "There's a big clock on the wall. Can you see what time it is?"
Sarah stood on her tiptoes and swept her eyes around the room, looking over her friend's shoulder. There it was, a fancy gilded affair. The numerals were crowded on the face, going from one to thirteen.
"Yes. It's a little past ten."
"Alright. The announcements will be made starting at thirteen o'clock. It's the tradition. So we have three hours. I don't know for certain, but I think that Lir Haldor is the ma—well, the one they picked to marry you."
Sarah couldn't halt the disgust that rose to her face, even though she wasn't planning on sticking around to be married. "The kid."
"You'll have a lot of freedom," reassured Callista. "And you won't have to have any children for years and years. And he's a very nice boy. You'll be fine."
"What do I do until then?" asked Sarah, changing the subject before she started yelling at her cousin. She means well, I know she does, but somehow she doesn't quite understand. How does she not understand?
"You should get out and meet people," she said. "Dance with anyone who asks you, make small talk, be charming, show all the ladies that you aren't a barbarian."
"But..?" asked Sarah, hearing it in Callista's tone.
"You don't have to, if you don't want to. I don't much like talking to strangers myself."
"You and me both," Sarah said under her breath. She looked out beyond Callista's shoulder. Moira was visible at the other side of the room, hanging on the arm of a young man in an aubergine coat. She caught sight of a yellow head walking towards her and Callista, and started a little bit, before she realized it was Jeremy. Jeremy as she had never seen him before, in gray breeches and a velvety robin's-egg-blue coat. His hair was still fashionably short, a contrast to the neat queues of the other Idunni men.
"Uncle Jeremy at twelve o'clock," said Sarah dryly. Callista blinked at her, uncomprehending. Sarah sighed.
"Human slang. Jeremy's walking straight toward us."
"Oh!" Callista spun around. "I see."
"Sarah!" called Jeremy, half-jogging to them. "I've been looking all over for you. My god, I hate these affairs. How are—did Mother buy you that?" He stared incredulously at her gown, frowning when he noticed the neckline. Sarah rolled her eyes. Oh, great, he gets all fatherly now because he doesn't approve of my clothes. Thank a lot, step-dad.
"Nope," Sarah said simply. "How's it going? How's Mom? Haven't heard from her since I left New York."
"Fine." His eyes narrowed. "She's fine."
"I was hoping she'd come to my graduation, but I guess that's not gonna happen now. When are you going to tell her that you're letting your mother marry me off to a prepubescent elf?"
"Look, Sarah." His jaw tightened. His accent was clipped. "I am a weakling. I am a freak, a mutant, a cripple in this world. I could try to magic you out of here, but I'd just as likely transport you into a volcano by mistake. I couldn't even get here on my own; Rhoslyn had to pick me up! I am trying my best."
"Don't bother yourself."
"I realize you're angry, but think a moment. This is just a betrothal announcement; you won't be married for months, at least. You have lots of time. We'll think of something."
Huh. I'm leaving tonight.
"This isn't his fault, Sarah," pleaded Callista. And it wasn't, really, Sarah knew that. But Angharad Dara was never around when she needed someone to yell at.
"Fine," Sarah said. Jeremy look relieved.
"I promise I'll find a way to get you back Aboveground. I even asked—" He stopped abruptly, as if just remembering something. "Ah. I should probably warn you, Sarah, Jareth's around tonight. Don't cause a scene, okay?"
Sarah stared at him, not sure whether to laugh or cry. Don't cause a scene. Oh, my. Jeremy has no idea.
"He's here?" she said tightly, trying to force her face into some semblance of innocence. Jeremy misinterpreted her tone.
"Yes, he is. Remember he's a king here. Show some respect."
"Huh." Respect? No way. I'd never hear the end of it.
"I told him about your situation, you know, since he does have influence over King Gunnar. I was hoping he could help."
"You did? What did he say?" Sarah was suddenly intrigued.
"That you deserved any trouble that you'd brought onto yourself." Jeremy shook his head. "Don't ever let him know I said this, but sometimes he's no better than you are."
Oh, the irony.
"What are you talking about?" asked Callista, brow furrowed. Her two companions looked down at her, having forgotten she was there. "I know that you know the Goblin King, uncle, but... Sarah?"
"I met him when Jeremy and my mom were married, of course," Sarah lied quickly. "We didn't really like each other. I guess I was kind of rude." Which was actually true enough.
"Why is everyone crowded here in the corner?" inquired a dry voice. Sarah peered behind Jeremy and spotted Gabriel, holding a cut-glass snifter of something alcoholic. There was another young man beside him, tall and very thin. He wore long robes, unlike the other males in the room, and his skin was a color between polished ebony and old leather.
"Hiding," replied Sarah. "How about you?"
"Searching. Good evening, Uncle Jeremiel. Sarah, this is my good friend Setekh."
"Who would like to dance with you," added Setekh in a musical voice. "If he may."
"Set's from another diplomatic family. Don't worry, he won't try to marry you." The alcohol was making Gabriel almost... jocular. How odd.
"I promise." Setekh's voice was so solemn that Sarah had to smile. She looked at her girl-cousin and step-father questioningly. They shrugged and Callista made a shooing motion.
"I'd be happy to," Sarah said resolutely. She scooted past all the relatives in the way and held out her hand.
It was a nice dance—Setekh had a pleasant smile and he reminded her a tiny bit of Ben. Ben, Dinah, Aaron... don't think about that. His jokes, temporarily at least, kept her mind off her predicament. Her eyes still searched for glints of pale gold among the dancers... but she never caught a glimpse of her quarry. Jeremy had said Jareth would be here, but she saw no sign of him.
After her partner had thanked her and sauntered off, Sarah was presented with other dancers, and then cornered by a pack of curious young women of the court. Eventually she was able to lose them, but she was intercepted by Lir Haldor's older brother, who congratulated her and very delicately flirted with her. Sarah extricated herself from the situation as quickly as possible. She was able to locate Callista again at half past eleven, and spent a comfortable half-hour hiding in the trees and sipping punch.
Moira and Jessamyn sauntered up just as she had disposed of her drink.
"We talked to the mother of your betrothed," said Moira conversationally. "The dress didn't come from their family."
"Oh?" replied Sarah, not much concerned. They weren't going to guess its actual genesis. They couldn't. "Curiouser and curiouser."
"Alice in Wonderland!" squealed Callista, a happy smile on her face. "I love that book."
Moira looked bored and Jessamyn sniffed.
"You would," Moira said simply. She turned her attention to Sarah again. "How are you enjoying yourself? I can remember my first ball—it was wonderful." She adjusted the lace on her sleeves languidly.
"The room is certainly very fine," replied Sarah diplomatically. "And the music is nice."
"Is that all?" asked Moira incredulously.
"She doesn't know anybody," put in Callista weakly. "Can't blame her if she's bored."
Moira looked affronted for a moment.
"I suppose," she said doubtfully. "Jess, do you... Jessamyn?"
Jessamyn was distracted, staring off into space. She didn't respond.
"What's wrong?" Moira prompted. Jessamyn shook herself a little bit but didn't move her eyes.
"Nothing," she started, voice breathy. But then she continued. "I... our boys are undoubtedly beautiful." Sarah was confused by the non sequitur; the other girls looked equally uncomprehending. Jessamyn paused and licked her lips. "But when one wants something more..."
Moira's eyes shifted to stare at a spot behind Sarah's back. Callista stifled a gasp; Sarah realized belatedly that Jessamyn had been watching someone.
"Oh, Jess," sighed her russet-haired cousin. "He'd eat you alive and spit out your bones."
The hair on the back of Sarah's neck prickled. She began to spin around and Moira grabbed her arm tightly.
"Slowly!" she hissed. "Look natural. He's coming this way."
Slowly, slowly, Sarah turned around to face the opposite direction.
She looked...
...and...
...it was him.
Breathe.
All four girls stood like deer in headlights as the Goblin King approached them, pressed as close as their wide skirts would allow. By some twist of fortune, Sarah was standing alone in front, with her three cousins a step behind her.
He stalked, he swayed, he strode, he sauntered. He did not swagger—he prowled.
Don'tpanicdon'tpanicdon'tpanicdon'tpanic.
He was clad in ebony and ivory, simple and elegant: a long black frock coat, every inch patterned with thick black embroidery; cuffs turned back to reveal ivory lace spilling over his hands; a creamy shirt left half undone to display his silver-gold pendant; black breeches so tight that they could have been poured on; tall black boots, low-heeled, leather butter-smooth. His cornsilk hair shone like a crown and the stark spare angles of his face gave him a cold appeal that eluded the other men in the room. The boys, as Jessamyn had said, old but never this old.
All of this, in and of itself, was enough to turn a normal female into jelly. Sarah was by no means a normal female, but she had an added burden to bear: her most recent memories of this man were of her body entangled with his, skin sliding over skin and hands cupping various parts of each others' anatomies.
That, as Jareth neared them, was distracting.
And then he stopped in front of her. Jade-colored eyes met an oddly-matched pair and an unnamed something passed between them. Acknowledgment, perhaps.
"Miss Williams," he purred, addressing her with hooded eyes and a lazy voice. "How lovely to see you again."
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A/N: I"M SORRY YES ITS A CLIFFHANGER. THE REST WILL BE UP THIS WEEKEND. Thanks to Isovexed, Bluegirl2751, angelwingz202, GoldenUsagi, efi, Labellily, Solea, draegon-fire, Second Star to the Right, Midnight Lady, Cariah Delonne, Lyn, Innogen, Moonjava, Acantha Mardivey, Cyber Keiko, Megdalina, Velf, Eleanora Rose, Robyn Maddison, Anyana, Anon, Lady Ione Athene, Celestis, Jazzy021, Bex Drake, Shadow, Caged Bird, Amora-Ryuko, Akai, Dragon of Sesshomaru, Dark Severus and Eskimointheigloo for reviewing. Hey, Shadow, I took a glance at your webcomic and found a Jareth! (It was cute and cool. Also, hurrah for Snape/Hermione shippers!