Rowan escorted them through the corridors until they returned to the landing of the grand staircase. The stairs going down on the right led to a spacious ballroom. Its features were hard to make out in the unlit darkness. To the left, they descended into the Great Hall where the guests assembled. Sarah tried not to gawk at the spectacle of it all.

The ceilings and walls were painted with murals. Cherubs and clouds covered the powdery blue of the sky on the ceiling while landscapes of meadows and flowers decorated the paneled walls. One could forget it was winter here if not for the festive decorations festooned over doorways and along the staircase railings.

The Fae were dressed in regal finery. Some women wore gowns of sheerest material as they walked without a hint of shame. Others were in the finest velvets and furs. Feathers and tiaras were perched on elaborate coiffures. The men wore breeches with knee-high boots all shined to perfection. Their coats were elaborately embroidered some with metallic threads in intricate designs, others with beads and crystals designed to catch the light and the eye.

The humans in contrast wore plain but clean clothing. Some had collars with leashes they followed as their captors paraded them like a prized pedigree. Their faces were strained. Eyes shadowed and cheeks hollowed. They looked terrified. Others obediently followed their Faes freely, their faces enamored and eyes glazed with adoration.

"Look at how strong and virile this one is," a red-haired woman said as they passed. "He put up quite the fight but my charms won out in the end." Her audience laughed as the mortal man's jaw clenched.

Sarah noticed as their trio made their way through the room heads turned, eyes cut into thin glares, whispers followed in their wake turning the Great Hall into a hissing pit of vipers.

"They're seething with jealousy," Rowan whispered to her with a satisfied grin stretching his cheeks.

"Why?" asked Sarah as she strained to hear what the others were saying.

"Well, normally, we only present one human," he whispered as he inclined his head in greeting to an old friend. "I have two and they all want another chance."

"Another chance for what?" Sarah's eyes danced around the room. She should be looking, searching. It was difficult to do in such a crowd with all eyes on them. She had no intention of being so conspicuous.

"To win, of course," answered Rowan as he led them to the front of the hall towards the entrance.

"Dinner is served," a fox with its red fur and black-tipped ears sticking through its feathered flat cap announced. "This way, if you please." He opened two doors that led to an antechamber.

The room was decorated in rich blues and silver. Large portraits hung on the walls on either side of the double doors that were centered on three of the four walls. Windows to the front lawn were on the fourth. They traversed to the second set of doors at the opposite end of the room.

Through those doors, they entered a dining room with the longest table Sarah had ever seen. Garland, holly, and poinsettias decorated the room in centerpieces along the table, woven in the chandeliers above, and under every sconce around the room. Evergreen boughs were draped along the tops of the windows.

Karen would have died seeing the chandeliers, matching candelabras, and golden place settings on crisp white linens. Sarah must not have been the only one in awe of her surroundings. The other humans gaped at the riches surrounding them. One spoon alone was probably worth more than any of them had ever had at once.

The fox led them to their seats, near the head of the far end of the table. Rowan sighed with relief as he noted that Ivy would be sitting opposite him in between two relatively harmless guests. A young marquess attending in his father's stead. He was lascivious but not malevolent. And a human who seemed smitten with his Fae. His eyes never left her. Poor man would never be the same.

Jareth strode through the corridors of twisting galleries. The jovial atmosphere of this castle made him yearn for the dark halls of his own. Nothing in this place was real. The perfection in the paintings nothing more than a facade. The gilt as superficial as its inhabitants. But none of his kind were willing to accept the ugly truth of the world.

The world outside these walls was harsh and cruel. The plots and intrigues were constant at court. Everyone always conspiring to gain more than their fair share. Only he had actually studied and trained to improve himself rather than scheming against those around him.

The world above was even more so. While they sat here in celebration, humans were waging wars on all fronts. On battlefields, in courts, even in their homes. None were safe from the anger and violence of man. And yet he was the one judged and found wanting for providing the punishment they so richly deserved.

Jareth could hear movement and chatter as he neared the Great Hall. He rarely attended feasts. He refused to gather at the appointed time, forced to stand in a crowd with those so below him. He would arrive just late enough to make his presence known.

The thought of sitting and eating with all those in attendance annoyed him to the core. The same people who detested him in private faked civility in public. He would much prefer them to glare at him openly. Like that mortal in the carriage. Though she had no reason to…yet.

It was her that drew him to the gathering. He wanted to play with her. Show her why he should be feared. That she was nothing but another fragile mortal. Her morals and beliefs as easily broken as her body. Just like all humans.

Sarah scanned the table examining every human face. There seemed to be about 50 mortals more than half were men. The other two dozen or so were women. Only five had dark hair and pale skin. And unfortunately, they were all seated at the opposite end of the neverending table.

"Rowan, what exactly is it everyone is trying to win?" Sarah asked.

A dark shadow was cast over the face of the young marquess next to her. His eyes widened as he looked up from his seat.

"Each Fae brings a human to be judged. The one that is deemed most intriguing wins. Didn't you know you are nothing more than a passing amusement?" drawled Jareth before cutting his eyes at the marquess. "I believe you are in my seat."

The young fop's face heated to an unsightly mottle in his impotent indignance. He stood quickly catching the eye of a servant who immediately accommodated him further down the table.

Sarah couldn't help but stare at the lean strength draped in black and gray. He wore a long coat with tails that touched the tops of his knees. A row of matte silver buttons lined the front and matched the gray of his waistcoat, providing distinction from the black shirt underneath. His black breeches hugged his thighs then disappeared into the top of his dark leather boots that reflected the candlelight surrounding them. Jareth's long hair stood out in contrast with his coat, shining like streams of silver and gold tinsel to his waist.

Rowan watch with great interest as Jareth took his seat next to Ivy who sat rigid. Her face was flushed although her countenance remained unmoved as she took her eyes from the Goblin King. Her gaze met his and her eyes flashed with annoyance as she seemed to remember her train of thought.

"So we're show ponies for you to trot out and you win what exactly?" Sarah asked as she stared into Rowan's icy blue eyes. Like hell, she was going to do any kind of humiliating song and dance for someone else's benefit.

"We win nothing but the right to call ourselves victors for a year," Rowan said as he laid his napkin in his lap.

Sarah followed suit, her fingers twisting the linen laying on her lap. "So, you kidnap people, hold them against their will, disrupt their lives for bragging rights? What do we get out of our performance?"

Jareth could feel the righteous fury in her words. How absolutely precious. "Shouldn't you be grateful for our generous gift of experience?" he asked, forcing her to look at him for the first time since he had taken his seat amongst them.

"Generous?" she snapped.

Oh, the green glare that was fixated on him. Jareth remained cool, eager to stoke those flames with his indifference. "How many humans do you know who have dined amongst kings? Without us, you would all still be eating dirt in your hovels."

Rowan saw Ivy's chest swell. She had no idea with whom she argued. "Never fear, Ivy," he stepped in. "The human who is deemed the best does indeed receive a prize far greater than the ability to boast."

"What do they get?" she asked, once more ignoring Jareth with all of her might.

Rowan glanced at Daisy who sat stoically, avoiding all conflict as usual. Ivy could learn from her example. "They are granted a wish from the High King."

Sarah's heart leaped then deflated, hope fizzling as soon as it bubbled up as she remembered a wish was no good if it couldn't cure Jareth. "Well, I'm sure that makes abduction and enslavement worthwhile."

"Both things that regularly occur in your world if I'm not mistaken, so I am afraid I do not see the issue at hand," said Jareth.

"It does not make it right in either case," countered Sarah.

Jareth rolled his eyes. Here it was. She would prove herself just as fallible as every other human. "If mortals do not want to be enslaved then they should not get caught. Every single human you see here was caught."

"I wasn't," Sarah stated, her chin jutting as she pushed her shoulders back proudly.

"Weren't you?" Jareth mocked. If it weren't for Rowan she would be his. He would have caught her in the woods and they most certainly would not be sitting at this feast were she his.

"It was divine providence," interjected Rowan. "I am so fortunate we crossed paths and she accepted my invitation before any other swooped in."

"His Majesty, King Dagda, Eochair Ollathair, Ruad Rofhessa," announced a fox as he bowed low before the opening doors.

Everyone stood as a great bear of a man with white hair that still held hints of red in his beard strode into the room. His staff echoed with the resounding fall of his boots.

"Greetings, honored guests," his voice boomed jovially. "A happy Yule is before us." He approached the head of the table his eyes flicking to Jareth then recovering as he lifted his goblet now filled to the brim with dark red wine. "To all gathered here, a blessed Yule."

"Blessed Yule," the congregation repeated raising their glasses in a toast to their monarch.

The High King sat smiling. Genial and fatherly, Sarah felt instantly at ease in his presence. Enough so she almost forgot where she was. She realized that she was once again about to take things for granted, she needed to keep her guard up at all times. Especially, around those that seemed the least threatening.

"Jareth, to what do we owe the pleasure of your company?" Dagda asked. He snapped his fingers and an army of servants entered the dining room pouring wine.

"I was invited," he replied dryly, sipping his wine and keeping his expression cool and placid.

"And we are very grateful you accepted, but it is rare for you to come down for anything but the ritual and ball. One must understand the curiosity." His gaze settled on Rowan. "And another first. Rowan, who are your guests?"

"Father–"

"Father?" interrupted Sarah. She quickly shut her gaping mouth as she saw the brows raise around her. He was the prince to the High King? Why hadn't anyone told her?

Jareth's lips curved into a sinister grin. "Didn't you know? Rowan is the Crown Prince. How embarrassing to not even know your host's lineage or how to behave in front of him."

It was embarrassing but she would not rise to his instigations. She would just adapt the best she could. She had never thought to be linked with the most prominent Faes here. Discretion was all but impossible now.

"Yes, High King Dagda is my father. I am the youngest of his children and lesser known. It is not surprising a mortal would have never heard of me," he reassured Sarah. "Father, this is Ivy and Daisy."

Sarah nodded in respect while Daisy whispered an all but silent, "Your Majesty."

"Two mortals?" The Dagda drank heartily from his glass, lifting his eyes to a servant who filled it immediately as soon as it was emptied. "Rumors abound of favoritism, my lad."

Jareth chimed in, "I offered to take one for him." If Rowan would not willingly concede Ivy to him, then perhaps the father would.

"Another failed year for you, Jareth?" the King asked. His white brow quirked over his silvery blue eye but his voice remained even.

"I had a mortal, sadly they were not strong enough to attend. But as I said, 'I'd be happy to take this one off your son's hands." His fingers reached out and twirled a lock of her hair that rested over her shoulder.

Her eyes followed his hand's movement. The familiarity brought memories of her Jareth to the forefront of her thoughts. "I am not anyone's to give. I'm here of my own volition and can leave whenever I choose. Isn't that right, Rowan?"

"Too true," he said. "She is here at my invitation but no one has any claim upon her."

"Then why are you still here?" Jareth asked.

She shrugged and flipped her hair over her shoulder. "How often does a poor mortal get to leave their hovel to dine with kings?"

Rowan exchanged a look with his father as Ivy challenged the Goblin King and Jareth eyed her with hunger.

Dagda apprised the situation at hand. "Well, we usually only have one mortal per Fae but it was never a set rule. We may have to change that in the future. However, for now, I will allow Ivy to stay as my son's guest."

"There's always next year, Jareth," Rowan suggested as he sipped his wine with a smirk as he watched the Goblin King stew.

Decadent food was served in courses. The hors d'oeuuvre was a date topped with mascarpone cheese wrapped in prosciutto followed by a gazpacho that had some of the human guests muttering about cold soup. Their lips almost snarled in disgust when the salad was served.

Still annoyed by Jareth, she focused instead on the food and other humans. She couldn't hear the conversations of those down the table from her. Most of the mortals' heads were bent in submission. They stared at all of the silverware, casting glances at which utensil the Fae used. However, instead of delving into, they poked dubiously at the rich fare as crispy trout with a parsley-caper vinaigrette was served.

It would be difficult if not impossible tonight to find out which one of them was Brigid. One caught her eye. She was beautiful. Her cheekbones were high. Eyes dark and lined with thick lashes. She smiled demurely at the Fae next to her as she took a tentative bite.

She was probably sweet and delicate. Everything that would entice a Fae to bind himself to her. She would know soon enough and then she could return with the information she needed to find her and save Jareth.

She had to try harder to avoid this Jareth. It was so hard being near him and not knowing him. The Fae seated next to her was a stranger. A dangerous one at that. So different from the one who she had shared her meals with. She had already done exactly what she said she wouldn't do. There was no use dwelling. She knew what she needed to do and she would do everything in her power to see this through.

Jareth watched the humans around the table fumble their way course after course. "Their manners have not improved in the last few centuries. It's a wonder they can use a fork at all. I don't know why we let them eat at our table–"

"They are our guests of honor, Jareth," the High King interjected.

"'Guests' imply the ability to decline an invitation which is typically extended prior to the special event. Prisoners would be a better descriptor," Sarah remarked.

Rowan laughed but Daisy's eyes widened, her fork clattering as it fell from her hands. How could she speak so freely around these magical beings? Did she have no regard for her own safety?

Jareth grinned. This mortal did not know when to stop. "If you desire to be a prisoner, I have a dungeon in my castle that would suit our needs."

"Probably the only way you could get a woman into your castle." The words had left her mouth before she could stop them.

The High King joined in Rowan's laughter this time, drawing the attention of the rest of the guests. Never had they seen anyone tease the Goblin King. Though her lack of self-preservation would inevitably cause trouble, it was entertaining nonetheless.

Jareth's lips fell into a straight line. "Who are you?" he demanded.

Plates were cleared and more set in front of them. Sarah placed her hands on her lap leaning out of the way of the fox who merely tried to do his job. "No one you'll remember."

Jareth watched the woman next to him. A few hours ago she was running through the woods in rags. Everything about her screamed peasant. But sitting here at a feast she was poised. Elegant in her obviously borrowed feathers, for surely even Rowan would know that pink was too garish for her.

She was the only human who did not hesitate while dining. The many rows of utensils did not give her pause. The variety of foods did not dissuade her. Everything about her deportment pointed to a high class except her demeanor.

Ivy was not sophisticated in her mannerisms. She had not been schooled in the arts of social propriety. Even the way she spoke. Her accent was wrong. Off somehow. Impossible to place.

Never had a mortal spoken to him in such a way. Arguing with him. She did not shrink back when he touched her, but she would. It made him more determined to put her in her rightful place, beneath him.

"Daisy, my dove, you must sample this. You've never had roasted pork this tender before," said Rowan offering a bite neatly cut on a fork.

Daisy obediently opened her mouth not wanting to deny or embarrass him. Her eyes closed as she chewed. "Tis delicious," she agreed. Her cheeks were set aflame as she noticed eyes on her. She looked down immediately as she momentarily locked eyes with Jareth.

Sarah watched the scene play out wondering if the food offered by Rowan would be enough to entrap her or if she was already a lost cause. It came from the table so it should be safe, but it was offered by an individual. It was something she would have to ask her later.

Conversation flowed over and around them. Fae who had known each other for eons reminisced of Yules gone by. An older Fae woman a few seats down from Sarah asked no one in particular, "Do you remember that one little man? He wrote a play while he was here. Queer little thing. Loved rhyming."

Chatter erupted as a chorus of concurrence spread down each side like wildfire. They hemmed and hawed, nodding their heads, and snapping their fingers as they goaded their lengthy memories.

"What was his name? One of the most entertaining humans we ever did have here. Deserved that wish in the end," the matronly Fae continued.

The answer sounded from Sarah's left.

"William, I believe." Jareth looked pointedly at Ivy. "William Shakespeare."

Rowan delighted in the comprehension dawning on Ivy's face until she set her scowl on him. As foolish as she may be for engaging him, he could not deny for the first time in centuries that he may have a chance of winning this year.

Dessert was cleared. Sarah was full and sated. Possibly buzzed by the amount of wine she drank. Her glass never became half empty. The servants were attentive and sneaky. Everyone at the table seemed relaxed or at least too distended to care.

The High King rose. "Shall we adjourn to the solarium for drinks and perhaps a bit of star gazing?"

"We will politely decline and retire for the evening," said Rowan quietly his eyes moving towards Daisy whose shoulders drooped and sagged under exhaustion. He stood offering her his hand. "Come, Ivy."

Daisy curtsied to the High King. "The feast was delicious," she said in a manner well rehearsed. Polite but not thanking him in the way most humans would.

Sarah's chair was pulled back by a fox. She curtsied and walked down the length of the room feeling eyes following her while everyone else stood to follow High King Dagda through a set of doors behind him. One by one they all exited the room. All but one.

A lone figure remained. Biding his time.

If there was anything Sarah hated as a child, it was being sent to bed. She had always feared that she was missing out on whatever it was the adults did when she was in her room. It turned out to be watching television until one or both fell asleep in the living room. But just being told to go to sleep made her stay awake, usually with a book and flashlight under the covers no matter how tired she was.

To add insult to injury, she found herself in a cotton nightgown with lace up to her neck and around the cuffs. It was tied with periwinkle ribbons in a pretty bow at her neck and around her wrists. How did anyone sleep in this?

She couldn't roam the castle alone, but she needed to gather information. The only person who might be able to help her was Daisy. She seemed to understand what was going on and how everything worked here. Getting her alone was the challenge. It was now or never.

Sarah opened her bedroom door. Peering out into the darkened hallway, she tip-toed across to Daisy's room and knocked gently.

Daisy slowly opened the door just a crack. She was dressed in a similar nightgown. Her hair was hidden in a ruffled nightcap. She gasped when she saw who was standing before her. Ivy. Alone. She pulled her inside and locked the door behind her.

"Ivy, what are you doing? You heard Rowan. We're not to be wandering about," she scolded.

Sarah's toe traced a flower on the rug below her feet. She didn't want to get Daisy in trouble or drag her into the mess she found herself in but she needed guidance. "I know, but I need help."

"Help? What trouble have you gotten yourself into?" Daisy asked. Ivy had only been here mere hours and already had found herself the center of some dilemma. Should she call Rowan? If anyone could solve her issue it was him.

Sarah found a chair to flop herself into with a heavy sigh. "Not me exactly. I need to find out the names of the mortals here and where they came from."

"Why?" Daisy sat on the mattress, gathering her bare feet under her legs.

"I can't tell you." Sarah fiddled with the ribbon on her wrist. As if asking for help wasn't hard enough, withholding the truth made it that much more difficult.

Daisy shook her head and sighed. "How can I be of any help if I don't know what it is you seek?"

Sarah briefly heard herself asking Jareth something similar. She pushed the thought away. "I'm just seeking information."

"But how do I know your intentions are good? That information could be used to do others harm if you're not careful." Though Daisy had no reason to doubt Ivy, she also had no reason to believe her. She had proven to be headstrong at dinner. Her temperament seemed as impulsive as any of the Faes.

Sarah hesitated. "All I can say is I'm trying to save someone I care about."

Ah, so that was it. The one thing that can make anyone act so foolish. "Someone you love?" Daisy asked.

Sarah paused. Did she love Jareth? The thought struck her like a blast of lightning to a tree, splitting her to her core. Her thoughts and feelings scattered at the destruction such a revelation could bring. It didn't matter she concluded quickly. He loved someone else. Her feelings for him or anyone were irrelevant.

"So, you do love him," Daisy stated. Had the answer been easy it would have been a quick and decisive no. But the fear and determination that just played across Ivy's face were enough for Daisy to glean the truth.

Sarah stood and approached the window, staring out into the starry sky. "It doesn't matter. I can't be with him."

"That I understand all too well. However, I'm not sure anyone here will be willing to give you the answers you seek."

"Why not?" Sarah asked, glancing back at Daisy.

"The ones who are already under the power of the Fae might not be able to. And all the others would rather take their names to their grave." Daisy's sleepy mind was confused by Ivy and perhaps a bit intimidated.

Ivy didn't seem to understand that not all the Fae were as forgiving and tolerant as Rowan. Most were cruel. Especially the Goblin King. Everyone in her village knew the Goblin King would snatch their babies and replace them with unnatural changelings with little provocation. Ivy was either very brave or utterly foolish. "You need to ask yourself if this person you care for is worth the risks you are taking. Would they do the same for you?" asked Daisy.

Sarah turned back to the night sky and started counting the twinkling stars, her breath fogged the glass obscuring her view. Would Jareth risk anything for her? Was she doing this all in vain? Was any of this ever possible or had she lied to herself once more?

Jareth followed the directions a sly fox, too easily bribed, gave him. He should have known she would be sequestered near Rowan's old wing. How often had he roamed these halls as a child with him?

A hand gripped his elbow ripping him from his thoughts. He snatched the offending fingers, spinning to face his assailant.

Saoirse stood before him, red ringlets glinting in the firelight of the sconces on the walls. "No need for such a show of force, Jareth, unless you want such diversions." Her lashes fanned over her cheeks as she lowered her eyes enticingly.

He dropped her hand. "I seek no diversions tonight."

"Really then where are you going?" she asked. Her fingers traced the curve of her artificial propped cleavage and she nibbled on her lower lip, plumping it into a luscious pout.

"Nowhere that concerns you." Jareth turned to leave. He had courted her centuries ago until he called the affair off. He would not be used to stoke the flames of jealousy for her other suitors, one of whom she eventually married. "You should be concerning yourself with the whereabouts of your husband instead. It was clear his attentions were elsewhere at the feast."

Her lovely face contorted into a snarl. "Just as it was clear that you've been bested by Rowan's mortal. To think a Goblin King unable to strike fear in the heart of a mere human. Pathetic," she spat.

"And yet, here you are being rejected by me. Again. Tell me which of us is the most pitiable?" He left her standing in her fury, turning his back to her as he walked away.

Saoirse was always unpleasant but her fall from her husband's favor made her unbearable. As though he would consort with her or any of her ilk anymore. He had washed his hands of all of them years ago. He would be damned if he let her try to bring him low.

He came to the hallway that supposedly held his target. Not afraid of him? The idea was ridiculous. She may hide it better than most but everyone feared him. Even his parents.

He waved his hands over the doors. Both doors of Rowan's little lambs were protected with simple spells. It was amusing he thought that was necessary. But a poor shepherd leaves his flock unattended for one always strays. And he knew which one would be the black sheep.

"Ivy, you really should get back to your room. Rowan being the Crown Prince is not enough to protect us from others. Please be more careful," Daisy pleaded.

Sarah sighed in defeat. She was tired anyways. Rising to leave, she reassured her new friend, "It's three steps away. What's the worst that could happen?" Sarah bid Daisy good night and closed the door behind her.

No sooner had she taken two steps, Sarah found herself slammed against the opposite wall. The air left her lungs as her back hit a plastered mural. Her wrists were pinned over her head by one large hand. She looked up to see the blue eyes of the Goblin King staring down at her. His angled brows set in a mocking glare daring her to struggle.

He was so strong. Holding her still with the slightest of effort. His familiar scent washed over her. In a different time, she would have welcomed the position she found herself in. But this Jareth wasn't hers. Not that the other was. Where did that even come from? But she could, at the very least, trust the Jareth from the future.

"You shouldn't wander alone in the dark," the deep graveled timbre drawled as he surveyed his catch. She looked ridiculous all covered in cotton and lace. Though the candlelight from the sconces did highlight that she wore very little underneath as two small peaks became deliciously prominent.

"So I've been told," she responded keeping her voice level. She raised on her toes slightly to take some of the pressure off of her wrists.

"And yet, you've ignored such warnings. Foolish indeed." He tugged at the ribbon tied at her throat, exposing the length of vulnerable soft skin.

Her breath hitched but she refused to fight. To give him the pleasure of a response. "I didn't think a straight line from one room to another directly across the hall constituted wandering."

"You should not take such things for granted." He grazed the blue veins of her neck with the backs of his knuckles.

"I appreciate the lesson. I'll just be on my way then." A burgundy leather jacket. A bricked tunnel. How are you enjoying my labyrinth? She had felt confused by his proximity back then. She would have thought that she could parse through her feelings and thoughts better ten years later. She knew she should be worried but she feared her heart was racing for the wrong reasons.

"I've only begun teaching you a lesson." Jareth stared at the woman held captive. At his mercy. He wanted to see it. The fear dancing in her green eyes. He gripped her chin in his fingers, forcing her to face him.

"Hey," she huffed as sharp claws pressed into her jaw, her patience and tolerance wearing thin.

"Hold still lest I cut your beautiful face to ribbons." He wouldn't cut her face. He wanted to watch it contort in pain as blood blossomed along her body as he dragged his claws across her alabaster skin.

She froze barely breathing, knowing his words were truth. "Maybe you should cut your nails. They look like a pain."

"Ah, but there is pleasure to be found in pain." He leaned in, nuzzling against her pulse. He breathed in her scent.

"Pain for the sake of pain is never a pleasure," she said through gritted teeth, her molars grinding as she spoke.

Jareth leaned in, his lips whispering into her ear. "But I can show you differently. Then you could really enjoy the festivities."

"She would probably enjoy it more without your interference." Rowan had felt the wards he placed on the doors shift beginning with Ivy's then quickly followed by Daisy's. It was not hard to guess what had happened. But when he felt Daisy's again a while later he waited for Ivy's wards to be disturbed. When it did not happen, he came to investigate and arrived not a moment too soon.

"I'm not interfering." Jareth reluctantly released Ivy's chin and twirl her hair through his long fingers.

"You are harassing my guest," stated Rowan. He approached slowly not wishing to put Ivy in any more danger than she already was.

Jareth glanced over his shoulder at Rowan, his hand still holding the woman hostage. "If you would give her to me, she would be my guest and no longer your concern."

"If you didn't break your toys, you wouldn't have to borrow from others," countered Rowan. When would he learn to treat humans with regard to their fragility? They were tender creatures, physically and emotionally.

Sarah wrested herself free from Jareth's distracted grasp. It was like watching two toddlers argue. The fact that they acted as though she wasn't there sent her over the edge.

"I am no one's 'toy'," she said crooking her fingers for emphasis. "And you–" She pointed at Jareth who stepped back. Her fingertip jabbed his chest with every word that followed. "I'm. Not. Scared. Of. You."

She pushed past the stunned king and prince, opening the door to her bedroom and slamming it behind her.

Rowan's lips tugged at the corner. "You heard her, Jareth. She'll not give you what you want if you keep pursuing her, people might think you are interested in a human. You can't have slanderous rumors like that abound." He laughed as he disappeared from view.

Jareth's brows furrowed, his hand rubbing the place she touched. It still hummed with the power of her prodding. Who was this mortal?

Notes: Posting this a little early. Please consider leaving a review as FFN is notorious for breaking down. There will be weeks where I cannot see any traffic on my graph and the only way I know if anyone read is if a review is posted. I cannot wait to hear your thoughts.

Next time: The Champion on a Mission