"Dear, dear. Where are you off to so soon?"
The mocking voice was not loud, but somehow the sound of it cut crisply through the distant sounds of music and dancing. Sarah whirled around and saw the slender, dark man from earlier, the one who had laughed, leaning rakishly against the wall just outside the stone archway. He smiled at her knowingly, as though they were close friends sharing a secret, and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle in warning.
He was between her and the door back into the dancing hall.
His smile widened when he saw her eyeing the doorway. "Well," he said, his voice as smooth as the underbelly of a snake, "I don't think my royal cousin would be happy with the prospect of his newest toy wandering off unchaperoned." He pushed himself off the wall with quick, easy grace and stood facing her. "Perhaps I could accompany you."
Newest. The word hit her like a bucket of ice water.
Whatever he saw in her face made his grin widen. She colored, and lifted her chin. "I'm not a toy," she snapped. In her attempt to keep her voice from shaking the syllables came out short and clipped, like she was biting them off her tongue.
"Forgive me," he said, in a decidedly non-apologetic tone. He started walking towards her, leaning forward slightly, keeping his weight on the balls of his feet. His loose, casual gait was hypnotizing. When she had seen him in the hall, the cut of his tunic had made his clothing seem simple, far less ornate than that of the other guests. Now that he was closer, she could see that he was the most richly dressed out of anyone she had seen that night. His dark green tunic was made of thick, glossy silk, and covered, from the collar to the hem, in intricate embroidery. Silver metallic threads and hundreds of tiny sapphires, so dark they looked almost black, wove together in a bewitching serpentine design of scales, teeth, and glittering eyes. "What term would you prefer?"
It took everything she had to fight back against the overwhelming urge to back up as he reached a polite distance for conversation and then took another two steps closer. He bowed to her so slightly that he hardly did more than move his head, grinning wide enough for her to see every one of his teeth.
"Drab? Doxy? Fille de joi?" The light from the torches glinted hard and cold off the jewels on his tunic, matching the gleam in his amused eyes.
Sarah did not respond. She couldn't think of anything to say—her rational thoughts had grown dim and faint in her mind, pushed into the background by an almost audible buzzing sensation and an overwhelming certainty of her own helplessness. The full force of his attention was fixed on her face. His eyes were a dark, almost inky shade of blue so deep and rich it could almost be called purple. The closer he drew, the larger they seemed. She could feel the pressure again, like she had felt in the dancing hall, building in her chest. It was nowhere near as strong, but it was more focused, like a hand slowly squeezing her heart.
Despite the similarity in their heights she felt very, very small, like an ant staring up at someone who was trying to make up his mind whether or not the entertainment of squashing her would be worth the trouble of lifting his foot.
"That charm he's worked on you is really something else," he said, looking her up and down admiringly. "He's always been skilled with dream magic, more so than any of us, but this…" He grinned. "This is artistry. How ever did he accomplish it?"
Though she had often been frightened by the Goblin King, she had never felt so utterly paralyzed in his presence. He was capricious, he was self-absorbed, he could be cruel, but she could see now with startling clarity that, in his own way, he cared about her. The man in front of her now, with his eyes like pools of shadow and his gleaming white teeth, would never negotiate with her. He would not bargain. He would not factor her slightest want or need into the equation of his own desire.
Sarah stared back at him silently, her chest rising and falling stiffly as she tried to slow the racing of her heart. Even if she wanted to speak, she couldn't. It was all she could do to keep her face blank.
Luckily, he did not actually seem to expect an answer.
"And why has he gone to all this trouble, I wonder? Weaving this perilous tangle of spells, thumbing his nose at the Long Hand, scandalizing the congregation…for what?"
He lifted a finger to her hair, as though about to brush a lock of it aside, and she flinched before she could catch herself. His smile grew pointy. He moved his hand closer. Electricity ran up and down her spine; she wanted to run–she needed to run. To be in the same room as this man was intolerable. But she forced herself to be still, because she could see in his eyes, looming above her like deep water, that running would not help her escape him. Nothing would. What this man wanted he took, he used up, and he discarded; and he was tensed to pounce. She could not run, because running was what he would most like her to do.
So she swallowed hard and kept still, holding herself so rigid that it felt like the slightest touch would shatter her, hardly daring to breathe as his fingers grew closer. When they were millimeters from her skin, she felt the necklace suddenly grow warmer, quickly becoming uncomfortably hot. The man hesitated, looking down at it. A look of careful calculation flickered across his face, then vanished so quickly she wasn't sure whether or not she imagined it.
He dropped his hand without touching her, his fingers curling into a fist as his hand returned to his side.
The necklace cooled somewhat, but she could still feel its warmth. Something had changed in the room. The air seemed to have lightened, and the pressure in her chest had eased a bit. Sarah breathed deep, closing her eyes in relief, feeling more in command of herself.
When he spoke again, there was the slightest trace of an edge in his voice. "It hardly seems worth it; though you're certainly his type."
There it was again–like a punch in the gut. But he already used this particular line of attack before, and she drew satisfaction from her confidence that this time he would not be able to see a trace of her turmoil in her face. She took another deep breath and opened her eyes, meeting his mocking smirk not with shrinking or challenge, but with calm watchfulness. He tilted his head, and his smile changed in a way that is difficult for her to read.
"You couldn't have been willing," he mused. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, scanning her from head to toe as though he would find the answer written on her body. "If you were, surely he would just have brought you here–all of you–without all of this fuss." He moved to the side, stepping around her. He was circling her. She wanted to whirl around; the last thing she wanted was her back to this man, but she held herself rigid, forcing herself to keep still. She couldn't make a move until she was absolutely sure what she was going to do.
"And for all the delicacy of the magic, it is rather a crude solution," he mused. "Far from ideal." From behind her, he leaned in close to her ear, as though about to tell her a secret. "Here… and not here," he said, his breath tickling the back of her neck. Impulsively, Sarah brought her hand up to the necklace in a quick, jerky movement, gripping it tightly. The unnaturally warm feeling of the silver was somehow comforting. Grounding.
"There must be a cost. I wonder–what could be the unfortunate side effects of splitting your frail, mortal essence in this way–of severing you from the better part of your corporeal self, night after night?" He paused, and she imagined his grin stretching even wider. "Of course, the metaphysical effects are quite obvious–but are there physical effects as well?"
Sarah gripped the necklace tighter. She could hear the gleeful anticipation in his voice and braced herself, knowing that he was winding up for something really nasty.
"Hmm? Well, perhaps a human would not be able to perceive it under ordinary circumstances, but–I imagine you would notice something while experiencing any …intense physical sensations. Though…" he trailed off, and she could hear the glint in his eyes in his hushed, theatrical whisper. "…perhaps my cousin has not provided you with sufficient opportunity for comparison?"
Knowing that barb was coming did not keep the sudden flush of humiliation from burning her skin. He chuckled behind her and she felt a surge of anger in her breast. It warmed her, broke her lingering paralysis. Her face still flaming, she turned deliberately to face him, taking a firm step back to reclaim some distance.
"That," she said, keeping her voice tight to stop it from shaking, "Is enough."
He raised his eyebrows in mild surprise that seemed genuine, his smile still smug and playful.
"Come, come," he said, his voice sly and confident. "Surely there's no need to be precious about it."
Her anger flared brighter and she spoke hotly, without thinking. "There's nothing to be precious about," she spat.
"Isn't there?" The man's purple eyes seemed to glow with amusement as he scanned her face, and his smile widened until it almost split his face. "You mean he hasn't…?" He was delighted. "He really hasn't?" For a moment he seemed barely able to contain his glee, and then suddenly his expression changed to one of confusion. He looked at her shrewdly. "Then why would he bother—"
"Oh, shut up," she snapped. Her hand was no longer gripping the necklace for security—both her hands were at her sides, balled stiffly into her skirts. She only had one card to play; it wasn't a card she liked, but it was her only chance at getting away from this asshole and finding some way to salvage the night. "I've already dealt with enough bullshit tonight. Here's what's going to happen. I don't know who you are, I don't know what you're after, and honestly, I don't really care. You might be Jareth's cousin but you are such an insufferable asshole that I can't see you two being very close."
His amused smile froze when she used the Goblin King's name, and when she saw it she smiled icily. When she continued, her voice steadier. "I think the only thing he would like less than me "wandering off" is you following me around. So, let's make a deal. You fuck off and leave me alone, and I don't mention this conversation the next time he's pissed off and looking for someone to take it out on."
She almost sighed with relief when she saw the flash of fear crossed his face, quick as lightning. The dark, vengeful glare that followed it unnerved her a little, but it, too, faded quickly, replaced by an eerily calm, sarcastic smile.
"Crude solutions," he repeated lightly, shaking his head. He looked her up and down wistfully. "Though I suppose I can see the appeal. I do hope you outlast his plans for you, whatever they are." He bowed low, mocking her with a false show of courtesy. "My lady."
As she watched him saunter back into the dancing hall, it took her a minute or so to slowly unclench her fists from her skirt and get her breathing back to normal. She wasn't comfortable turning her back and continuing down the hallway until several minutes after she saw him disappear back into the dancing hall. Even then, a fearful voice in the back of her head whispered that she should follow him, go back to the Goblin King, where she would be safe. It was possible–perhaps even likely–he would simply give her a head start and catch up to her later when her guard was down. Even if he didn't, she had never ventured alone into the castle before. There was no telling who else she might come across.
She pushed those thoughts aside, holding onto her anger. After everything she'd been through tonight, she was damn well going to get something out of it for herself. She put her hand to the necklace. It still made her uneasy, but it didn't bother her as much as it had. It's unnatural warmth, the way it clung to her skin whichever way she moved, was almost comforting compared to the encounter she'd just had.
And if the Goblin King's creepy bastard of a cousin didn't want to mess with it, hopefully that meant no one else would either.
With one last glance over her shoulder to make sure she really was alone, she walked quickly towards the passage directly in front of her.
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