Chapter Twenty: What in the World
"Miss Williams," he purred, addressing her with hooded eyes and a lazy voice. "How lovely to see you again."
The words would seem innocuous to her cousins, but Sarah heard the thread of irony in them. Somehow he was bending to kiss the back of her hand, just the lightest touch of lips. Sarah swallowed heavily and tried to will her nerve endings into compliance.
"Your Majesty," she managed to squeeze out, breath heavy and heart twisting uncomfortably. "What a surprise."
Or not.
"I do hope I'm not interrupting your conversation," he said lightly, not sounding apologetic in the least. He favored the other girls with an uninterested glance before returning his attention to Sarah. He could afford to be rude. "Would you care to dance, Miss Williams?"
Sarah could have sworn she heard Callista whimper and Jessamyn grit her teeth. Moira kicked her discreetly in the skirts, hitting her ankle.
"Certainly," Sarah replied belatedly, taking Jareth's proffered hand. She couldn't refuse, she didn't really want to refuse, but words and thoughts and emotions were beating against her skull like caged birds. Is this a good idea? Is he angry? Of course he's angry... that's not a point of discussion. What am I supposed to say
He swept her into the dancing masses; his hand was resting at her waist and his torso was maddeningly close to her own. Very close, too close, she wasn't thinking coherently anymore...
Jareth bent towards her and spoke in a low voice with an odd smile on his lips.
"Do call me 'your majesty' again, Sarah; I find it quite appealing."
"Not likely," she said automatically. His expression was beginning to creep her out. It looked pleasant enough, but his eyes had a slightly manic gleam to them and his grip on her was very tight. His real feelings were lurking under the friendly mask. They didn't appear to be happy.
"We are going to lose ourselves in the crowd, where your companions—Jeremiel's nieces, correct?—cannot see us. We will move toward the doorway outside. See the drapes? Just follow my lead."
Sarah looked at Jareth's face, to the tall rectangle of darkness that led outdoors, and back at Jareth.
Alright, time for a panic attack. Whoops, too late, already having one. Lost your nerve, Sarah, huh? Where'd it go? You could always stand up to him before.
They stepped in time with the waltz that was playing, swaying in the three beats. They crossed the ballroom with surprising speed. Jareth didn't speak again, but he kept his eyes firmly on hers. Sarah couldn't bring herself to break the gaze. She was hardly conscious of where she was putting her feet.
Eventually, she felt a cool breeze riffle across her skin; the door. Jareth nonchalantly swept them through the opening and onto the windy, deserted balcony outside. He pulled her a few steps from the door, dropping his hand from her waist. For a moment, Sarah relaxed, hoping that he was going to be civilized about their situation.
Then he slammed her against the cold stone palace walls, pressing her back against the rock and caging her in with an arm on both sides. Before she had time to register what had happened, his mouth was covering hers in a fierce, violent, possessive kiss. As surprised as she was, she responded instinctively, pushing her lips against his with equal force. The gap between their bodies disappeared.
Jareth drew away after an interminable period of time, leaving his face hovering a few inches away from hers. His arms kept her pinned in place, but his eyes were calmer now. Sarah licked her swollen lips and took in a deep, quiet breath.
"You have been a very bad girl," he murmured silkily. Sarah stifled a shiver and met his eyes defiantly.
"I figured out how to leave the Labyrinth on my own, didn't I? I think those were the terms of our agreement."
"Sarah, Sarah, never lost for words." There was amusement in his face now, but there was something darker as well. When had their animosity turned so... personal?
"I wouldn't say 'never'," she hedged, dropping her eyes to his chest. His skin was milky pale in the moonlight. "Sometimes I have no idea what to say."
"Indeed." He shifted, bringing a hand around to tilt her chin back up. His eyes were unreadable. "How do you plan on getting yourself out of this dilemma, my lovely?"
For a wild moment Sarah wasn't sure what he was talking about—their dilemma, or the one that was waiting for her inside the ballroom. I don't want to get out of this, Sarah thought, staring at him. But then she realized that he was speaking of her impending betrothal.
"I have an idea," she said quickly. "You'll see."
"Of course you do." He snorted. "My friend your step-father asked for my assistance in the matter."
"He said as much. You refused."
"I did. He thought that I was just being vindictive."
Sarah smiled a tiny humorless smile. "He told me that you're just as bad as I am, sometimes."
"'Just as bad'? Worse, I hope." This opinion seemed to amuse him. "No, I want to see you deal with this on your own. I'm sure that it will extremely entertaining."
"Entertaining, am I?" she muttered. Typical. "Thanks a l—hey!"
Sarah twitched away as he ran his thumb across the neckline of her gown, brushing skin.
"I rather like this," he said, looking down.
"Keep your hands to yourself, why don't you?" She felt as though she should be angry with him—she was always angry at him for something. But at the moment, she wasn't. It was disorienting.
"I think it's too late for that. Do you like the gown?"
"It's beautiful, but I'm not sure I trust your reasons for giving it."
"I can't have you disgracing me by wearing whatever rag the Daras provide for you," he said arrogantly, tone aided by his elegant accent. Sarah raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore the hand that was stroking her neck.
"What do my clothes have to do with you?" she asked. Jareth narrowed his eyes.
"You belong to me. A fact you'd do well to remember. I wouldn't try running away again." He seemed completely serious, which was a more than a little chilling. "Now, Sarah, the thirteenth hour draws near. Don't keep the good Lady Dara waiting." He placed a light kiss on her jawline before taking a couple steps back. "I'll be watching."
He left. Sarah remained, leaning against the stone wall. She looked up at the sky and sighed.
So I maybe I like him. Don't trust him at all, but I like him. Where does that leave me?
Sarah pushed away from the wall and patted her hair lightly. Still in place. The air of the ballroom seemed hot and thick when she stepped back inside, almost suffocating. She threaded her way across the expanse of floor, hoping that her cousins would still be where she had left them. How long ago was that? Hours, days, minutes?
There they were, Callista in blue and Moira in green and Jessamyn in burgundy. Gabriel had joined them, as well as Angharad and Aunt Rhoslyn. The six of them watched her as she approached. Sarah winced inwardly. This didn't look good.
"My dear Sarah," started Angharad frostily. "Have you no understanding of subtlety whatsoever?"
That was completely unexpected.
"Excuse me?" asked Sarah blankly.
"One does not except gifts—expensive gifts—without knowing from whence they came. Moreover, one does not wear them to Court functions for all to see. Have you lost your wits?"
"I'm not following you."
"My girl. I have worked extremely hard to arrange a marriage for you in a minuscule amount of time. And it is an excellent match: the nephew of the king himself, albeit a young one! You should be grateful. You should not be flaunting strangers' gifts in front of your betrothed's family. What if they are offended? What then?" Angharad glared at Sarah reproachfully, a surprisingly effective glare from such a tiny woman.
"I don't really see the problem here," Sarah said, irritated. "No one knows who it's from, or even that it's a gift."
"Thank the very heavens," responded Angharad quickly. "We shall hope not. What could a person have been thinking, to send such a thing to an attached young woman? But no matter." She calmed down a little bit, resembling a sparrow settling its ruffled plumage. "My granddaughters tell me that you accepted a dance from the Goblin King."
"Yes..." Sarah confirmed slowly. Angharad looked pleased. Jessamyn looked like she wanted to fling acid in Sarah's face.
"Well. Very good. A very great compliment to our family, to be acknowledged so. To you especially, being newly arrived at court. Young Jeremiel is a particular friend of his, you know—yes, you remember that he came to Jeremiel's wedding party, of course. He is a very high figure in the Underground. Very high. I hope that you gave him all due respect?"
Callista looked at Sarah worriedly after this remark; Sarah bit back a grin. She remembered her words earlier in the evening: we didn't really like each other. I guess I was kind of rude.
"Of course," she said innocently. Gabriel, standing next to Callista, caught Sarah's eye. There was a knowing look on his face.
Could he have figured it out? The idea was a little worrying, but she knew that Gabriel wouldn't interfere in her escape. He had implied as much that morning. He may realize that Jareth is involved, but he wouldn't tell.
Lady Dara was looking at the clock.
"It is almost time, children. Come—we must take our places."
Almost time, almost time, almost time; the clock will soon strike thirteen. Don't freak out, Sarah. This is your chance.
They moved en masse across the room, towards one wall where there was a dais set up. Two thrones sat upon it, wood gilded and set with precious stones. They were bright and shiny, but they looked like toys when compared to the millennia-old one that sat in the castle beyond the Goblin City. The giant clock hung overhead.
Angharad halted them on one side of the dais, where they were met by Tristam and Gwyneth, Owain and Maddox, Callistus Dara and Jeremy. Jeremy mouthed the words I'm sorry. Sarah patted him softly on the shoulder.
Other groups of people moved toward the dais, standing in front of it on the left or on the right. A long aisle formed in the middle. Sarah saw Setekh standing with a contingent of dark people in robes; next to them was a clan of people with brilliantly teal hair, reminding Sarah of the boy she helped in the Labyrinth. The other ambassadors' families were easy to pick out: most of them were different in some way, either their coloring or height or something strange about their features. The majority of people were just normal Shining Ones, beautiful humanoids with an unearthly clarity to their skin and eyes and hair.
A tall muscular man, richly dressed, strode forward to sit on one throne. A statuesque woman walked beside him, red-gold hair piled on top of her head and woven through a crown. The man wore a simple circlet.
Everyone bowed when they passed, except for one—Sarah looked away and saw Jareth standing upright by himself. He was watching her.
When the king and queen had taken their places on the thrones, Sarah looked up to watch the clock. The elaborate hands marched closer and closer to their goal, until all three of them were aligned at the top. Thirteen.
Dong. The sound was deep and stately, thrumming through Sarah's stomach. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong. Dong.
Dong.
The clock had struck thirteen.
"Welcome, my subjects and my companions," began the king, voice resonant with some spell. "Once again we meet together, dance together, on the top of our kingdom under the light of the full moon. May our actions here be blessed under Her purifying light."
The words had a slow cadence to them, as if this were a speech given every year. A benediction. Sarah could imagine this shining throng gathering every year, for the past few centuries, to stand in front of their sovereigns.
"May we present our gains, our losses, and our bindings as the first of our dealings together. May we bear witness to the joys and the sadnesses of our fellows."
The king leaned back and a woman—an old woman, hair gray and dress shining white—took a place on the dais, in front of the royals and facing the nobility. A rolled parchment was held in her hands, which she unfurled and grandly held in front of her.
"Greet the newest of our number," she said in a beautifully rich voice, before beginning a litany of the children who had been born since the last Court session had ended. The list was surprisingly short. Sarah bit her lower lip nervously as the woman spoke.
She began on the betrothals. This list was slightly longer. Sarah listened with bated breath, her heart thumping so loudly in her chest that she could hardly think. The speaker droned on, and on, until...
"Lir Astrophel Albin Ingimarr Haldor of House Haldor to Sarah Elaine Williams Dara of House Dara..."
Sarah stepped forward, into the empty space just before the dais; no one thought to stop her. No one had expected her to move.
"I protest this," Sarah called in her loudest voice, voice clear despite the slight trembling in her limbs.
The respectful quiet was broken with a quiet gasp, followed by a stunned silence. The speaker on the dais looked down.
"On what grounds?" she annunciated, looking dubious. Sarah heard angry murmuring from behind her, where the Daras were standing. She refused to be distracted.
"My betrothal was contracted by House Dara. It is not binding; for I am not a member of that House and my consent was not given."
Angharad had stepped out of the throng to grab her, face absolutely furious, but the king chose that moment to speak out.
"Stand away, Your Excellency. I am interested to hear the girl speak." His expression was amused and disbelieving. "So this is the girl from the Aboveground. Continue, human girl."
Sarah had the feeling that this was meant as an insult, since she was generally known not to be human. She raised her chin imperiously, anger making her stand tall.
"Human girl? I am not, your Majesty, which I believe is part of the problem. There has been a severe misunderstanding."
"The misunderstanding is on your part," said the woman holding the scroll. "Your mother was married by Jeremiel Dara, if my records are correct. The connection to House Dara is obvious."
"I do not enjoy the condescension in your voice, madam," Sarah said stiffly. The crowd's murmuring grew. "My complaint is entirely reasonable. I do not belong to House Dara. I am not human, nor am I one of the so-called Shining Ones. Moreover, there is a previous claim on me that supersedes my mother's marriage to Jeremiel Dara."
The room exploded into conversation. The woman with the scroll waved her arms to procure quiet; the king stood up and frowned. The noise subsided.
"What proof do you have of this, girl? Without the insolence, mind you." His incredulity was obvious. Sarah looked back at him haughtily.
"My allegiance is to the Labyrinth."
Gunnar stared at her for a long second before bursting into hearty chortles. The rest of the court tittered softly, following his lead and reminding Sarah of nothing so much as the goblins brainlessly mimicking Jareth. She scowled.
"If I had known that you were a madwoman, child, I would not have allowed my nephew to be bound to you. However, this is a delusion easily destroyed. Jareth—where are you? Come, disillusion the girl so we may return to our ball." The king's eyes fixed to a spot in the distance; Sarah turned, along with everyone else, to look at the Goblin King slouched arrogantly along the aisle. He regarded the king coolly.
"What would you have me do, Gunnar?" he asked, addressing the king familiarly. He sounded utterly unimpressed with Gunnar's showiness.
"Tell Mistress Williams that she is egregiously mistaken."
"I will not." He refused Gunnar's request evenly. "Sarah is quite capable of speaking for herself. Indeed, she insists on it." He looked at Sarah when he said that last part, favoring her with a slight smile full of mirth. Sarah nodded at him in acknowledgment.
The humor slowly drained from Gunnar's face.
"This is quite enough!" screeched a female voice; Sarah spun around and was treated to the sight of Angharad Dara in a towering rage. "You ungrateful brat! We adopted you with nothing but kindness in our hearts, and you repay us with this farce! Stand down immediately!" Her eyes traveled to Jareth. "Sir. You may find it amusing to humor this child, but I ask that you stop toying with her. This eruption has gone on long enough."
"Do not presume to ask me anything, little one," he replied icily. Sarah looked between his insulted face and Angharad's outraged one. Uh-oh,she thought. I need to get this over with before somebody gets hurt. As much as I would enjoy seeing dear Grandmother get her just desserts...
"I have proof," Sarah said loudly, before anyone else could speak. King Gunnar shifted in his seat and crossed his arms, looking harried.
"Do you?" he growled. "It better be good. You have exactly one minute before I have you forcibly removed from this gathering. Angharad, please shut up. Jareth, with all due respect, please don't curse any of my guests until after the party is over."
"Assuredly," Jareth murmured, sending Lady Dara his best predatory stare. Sarah sighed loudly, irritated by his interruptions. She had wanted to do this herself.
"Watch," she said, calmly, to Gunnar. She stretched her right arm out in front of her, palm turned to face upwards—the lace on her sleeves tickled her skin as she shifted. She bit her bottom lip, concentrating. This was not the time to screw up.
A crystal, bright and ever-so-slightly glowing, popped into existence on her hand. The front rows of people gasped slightly and Gunnar suddenly leaned forward in his chair. Sarah swallowed quickly.
A swift movement of her wrist caused the crystal to go flying upward in a glittering line, catching the attention of the guests who hadn't seen it before. Sarah kept her eyes glued to the object; when it reached the apex of its flight, she directed every fiber of her will toward it. Turn.
Instead of disappearing mildly, the crystal popped with a burst of sparkling light, leaving her gold-and-silver-pendant falling back down to her hand. Sarah caught it gently, the thin chain wrapping around her wrist as it landed. Sarah untangled it and pulled it over her head; the pendant slid down and nestled itself over the curve of her breasts, in plain sight for all to see.
Gunnar was on his feet and the crowd was jabbering at the top of its lungs. Sarah blinked, slightly shaken, and stared up at the Idunni king steadily. Let this be the right thing to do, her mind whispered, let this set me free. Give me power; don't let someone else have power over me.
"This..." said Gunnar, voice trailing off. His eyes moved to a point behind her. "This is unexpected. Is this a truth or a declaration of intent?"
Jareth's voice sounded from directly behind her; Sarah stifled a twitch, not realizing that he had moved. He stood close, very close, but he did not touch her. Sarah breathed in deeply, relieved and somehow touched. He was letting her stand on her own—she needed this.
"That depends on Sarah."
Sarah didn't understand.
"Does it now," murmured Gunnar. "Does it." He spoke louder, for the benefit of their audience. "Well, the emblem is clear, and the significance is undeniable. The Daras have no claim."
Sarah smiled, despite the burst of indignation from the Dara delegation. Gunnar shook his head disbelievingly; he seemed bewildered, bemused, but not exactly angry.
"I do not know who or what you are," he said to her, voice pitched for Sarah's ears only. "But I daresay that my kingdom is better off without you. Anyone who can wrest respect from the Goblin King would be more trouble than they're worth." He muttered something under his breath that might have been always preferred more docile women, myself. "I never thought to see a queen in the Labyrinth, but I know when to keep my mouth shut."
Oh, shit, thought Sarah, suddenly alarmed. What did I just declare? Please tell me that I have not just walked into Jareth's trap. Oh, crap.
"I think this is the perfect time for a graceful exit, don't you?" Jareth said into her ear. Sarah spun around to face him, wanting to start berating him right that moment, but common sense stopped her. She glanced over at the Daras out of the corner of her eyes; Callista was big-eyed, Gabriel was doubled over laughing, and Jeremy looked totally mind-blasted. All the others were in some stage of spluttering disbelief and anger.
"I suppose so," she replied reluctantly. Probably we should get out before Angharad lapses out of her stupor. "Fine."
"Shall we?" he asked, offering her his arm. Sarah looked at it distrustfully.
"Where are we going?"
"Home, of course."
"If you mean the Labyrinth, no. I need to return Aboveground. We need to talk."
"You're feeling cocky, aren't you?" he asked coolly. "Do you think you have a choice?"
"Yes, I do. We don't have time for bullshit. Just take me to the park near my house, alright? I feel certain that you know where it is. We need to talk. After that, anything is possible. " She met his eyes levelly, trying to impart how serious she was. He looked like he wanted to argue.
"Fine, you bloody harridan," he growled. Sarah threaded her arm through his primly, raising her eyebrows at him. He shut his eyes, exasperation and amusement warring for dominance on his face, and breathed in deeply. Sarah got the feeling that he was counting to ten.
"Many thanks," he said sardonically. He nodded genially to King Gunnar and pulled Sarah a step forward. "Here we go."
And they went, leaving Idunn far behind them.
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A/N: And there you go. I expect one more chapter, or perhaps a chapter and a short epilogue; regardless, the next chapter will be a biggie where Jareth and Sarah try to hash out their mess of a relationship. (And just where did all this queen stuff come from?) Then the story will be done. A big merci to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, even the ones who were screaming incomprehensibly at me (lol). Calendar, Akai, GoldenUsagi, Eleanora Rose, Innogen, Dark Avalon, Second Star to the Right, Labellily, Acantha Mardivey, Isovexed, Secret Heart, Velf, angelwingz202, tellergirl, Solra, Kathleen, Fei4, and Fuzzy. Thank you for your tolerance and good humor. I love and adore you.