Oops
Jareth crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, a picture of icy Faerie elegance with long, lithe limbs and impeccable posture. His glower could have stopped a dragon in its tracks. "That's all you have to say? Oops?"
"I thought that pretty much covered it."
His fingers drummed against his arm with military precision. "Our son has disgraced the realm—"
"Oh please, Feanor's barely three. No one expects dignity from a three-year-old. Or if they do, that's their problem."
"—he has disrespected another monarch in public—"
"Your mother shouldn't have tried to force him to wear that robe. He's stubborn and it was too heavy anyway. She's lucky he only stomped on it."
"—and he's just generally recalcitrant, rebellious, and ridiculously unruly!"
"And I repeat, he's barely three. And also your son. And my son. But lovely consonance with your r in that little tirade." I kissed him on the cheek as I made for the door. "You've still got that magic tongue."
A gloved hand caught mine, sinuously curving through my fingers and holding me fast. "A magic tongue, eh?"
"Oh yes. Bardic powers galore."
"Any other powers worth mentioning?"
"I'm sure something would come to mind with a proper demonstration."
Velvet promise thrummed through his voice. "Is that a request?"
"Could be."
"You've learned far too much about the art of distraction."
"Lots of practice, my love."
"I didn't know I required so much distracting."
"I was actually thinking of Feanor. But his father could definitely use some artful distraction now and again."
"How about now?"
"Maaaybe. And then again at Feanor's quiet time if you play your cards right."
"And how shall I play them?"
"Why don't you show me with that tongue of yours?"
"My pleasure, Sarah love."