Chapter 11: The Wine

"Who speaks for her?"

"I do."

Sarah had expected Jareth to step in at any point to stop this madness. But every stage proceeded with ease and certainty. Maxinia, a courtesan, had been kind enough to briefly outline the fae wedding customs while she was getting ready. By kind, obviously, Sarah meant as far as a fae was able to stretch past their own self-interest.

Time had moved in a spinning vortex —from finding Diddershins Gly in Jareth's house to being transported Underground to finding herself in an antechamber of the temple in which she would become a married women in a matter of hours.

And those hours flew by in a hurricane of dresses, makeup, jewellery, and explanations of things like the Laying Down of the Lace or the Dance of the Pillars. All customs and routines that happen directly before the wedding ceremony. Nothing in the fae wedding traditions married up to Aboveground weddings.

Least of which was the unusually fervent desire to marry a fae male she'd never met before.

Earlier:

Sarah found herself standing before the handsome fae. His eyes were warm—warmer than Jareth's icy blue eyes. She trusted them. She felt her blood hum with the trust she had in this man. She would do whatever this man desired of her.

"You are safe now," he said, brushing the back of his hand against her cheek. "My name is Diddershins Gly and you are no longer at risk from King Jareth and his schemes."

Sarah nodded eagerly.

"He will be very angry his little mouse escaped his trap," Diddershins said, removing his hand, and striding over to a dark oak table that was heavy with decanters of ruby liquid and many glasses. He stroked one glass with the tip of a gloved finger. "I can't let your escape be in vain, little mouse."

Sarah nodded again, even as a voice in the back of her head screamed to resist. She ignored it. She was safe, warm, and loved in this great hall. This was the antithesis of that haunted house of Jareth's. Even if she couldn't see the rot, she had felt it.

"I need to protect you," he said, pouring some of the red liquid into the glass he had been fondling. "You will drink all of this."

She nodded, and smiled up at him as he retook his place in front of her. She stared at his lips, wanting ever so much to kiss them.

She felt the cool crystal rest on her bottom lip and she opened her mouth as he tipped the contents into her mouth. She swallowed as fast as she could but still some slipped down her chin. Finally, he lowered the glass and then tutted. He leaned in and Sarah held her breath as she felt his warm tongue lick the drops of wine off her skin—own her chin to her neck.

Sarah shuddered, as she felt the wine course through her veins. Her vision went foggy and she suddenly couldn't move her limbs.

"Unfortunately, little mouse, you were fighting my compulsion magic," he said, placing the dirty glass back on the table with a clink. "You will get the use of your muscles and voice back once the ceremony has ended. Don't worry, you can still move but only if I or Maxinia instruct you to."

Sarah barely heard his words but then he commanded her to kiss him and she felt her limbs react with no input from her mind. She was in his arms as he planted his lips heavily on hers.

By the time she had arrived at the temple's main chamber, she had her mind back, but not her body. It was the peach incident all over again, except worse this time. Jareth had never kissed her against her will.

Despite not having motor functions of her own (except for the ability to move her eyes), Maxinia had still guarded the antechamber where they got ready with a sword strapped to her body. And she hovered 'kindly' in the only exit while the attendants rammed her dress on to her stiff body.

To some extent, Sarah understood why he had done this. To withdraw from a magical contract would mean she would have to give Diddershins something of equal or greater value. And she had nothing of which to barter with. She considered giving him her magic but a shrill voice in the back of her mind, untouched by compulsion magic or the wine, that sounded awfully like Sir Didymus, argued against that.

So now she stood hand in hand with this handsome stranger, while the voices of three different people echoed around the temple, shouting out, "I do."

There was a crescendo of gasps and murmurs at the proclamations and the sound of rustling as everyone looked around to see who was speaking for her.

Sarah had glanced at Jareth, but he remained kneeling. And he wasn't looking at her. She noticed the fae that had been holding his hand earlier was now standing with his hand across his chest. She presumed this was Icca. She tore her eyes from him, to follow Jareth's gaze. At the back of the temple stood Ismaila and Hoggle and an odd assortment of goblins. Both had their hands across their chests too.

"Er…" The officiant and peered at the three speakers. "Well, let's start with—"

"For starters, the former Goblin Queen is banned from the Underground and he isn't fae," Diddershins cried out, pointing a finger at Hoggle. "They have no right to speak for my bride."

"I do have to hear them o—"

"And Icca Debe is a lowborn," Diddershins turned his finger to Icca. Sarah flicked her eyes back to him and his smug expression that was unwavering even when insulted. She didn't like him one iota. And not just because he was seemingly back together with Jareth—given that the hand that wasn't on his chest was resting on Jareth's shoulder in a very possessive way.

"I have to hear them out," the officiant restated. "Whether you like it or not."

There were a few titters as Gly coloured.

"Fine." He indicated with his hand that he should proceed. "It is not like they have any chance of interceding on her behalf. This is a waste of time but do what you must."

"I shall," the officiant said, and cleared his throat. "I shall start with the dwarf. And your name is?"

"Hoggle," Hoggle replied, gruffly taking his hat off and wringing it between his hands.

"Sir Hoggle," came the voice of Jareth. Sarah glanced up at him with surprise but given the wine she was drugged with; she knew her face would be implacable.

Icca, on the other hand, was subtlety squeezing Jareth's shoulder and Sarah swore he shook his head.

"Sir Hoggle, is it?" the officiant asked.

"Er…well, my name is Hoggle, but I am no s—"

"You were made a Prince of the Land of Stench, Hoggle," Jareth interrupted. This time Sarah didn't imagine it—Icca was shaking his head. "That makes you a Sir. Stop wasting our time and spit out what you have come to say. I am sure my cousin is impatient to marry our Champion."

"Well, that's just it," Hoggle said, sweat dripping down his forehead and nose. "I speaks for Sarah. She is my friend, and this wedding isn't right. She ain't lovin' Gly."

"That is your argument?" Diddershins asked, laughing. "That is hardly a reason to interrupt a fae's wedding. And one who belongs to the High Council."

"Yes, well." Hoggle blushed and looked at Sarah imploringly. She smiled weakly at him, knowing full well the wine wouldn't allow her lips to even twitch in reaction. "Besides, she is a mortal and that ain't allowed, or Queen Ismaila would still be Queen."

"She is fae-touched which negates that particular rule," Diddershins said, baring his teeth in a shark-like manner. How had she ever thought he was attractive? His lips (that had kissed her) were like two purple sausages, his chin was weedy and his eyes were overly large. He did in fact look like a shark.

"And you?" The officiant turned to Jareth's mother, with less patience now that Hoggle had spoken his nonsense. Hoggle continued to stare at Sarah with confusion lining his wrinkled face.

"I am the former Goblin Queen," Ismaila said with dignity. "My son now holds that position. I have returned here against the terms of my banishment because Sarah is not destined for Diddershins Gly, but my own son. So, this wedding cannot take place."

There was a renewed wave of muttering from the attendees and Sarah watched Jareth's face from the corner of her eye. He wasn't smiling. He wasn't even smirking. His expression was grave and fixed on his mother. The fae next to him rolled his eyes.

"Again, that is a poor—"

"Lady Ismaila, I do remember you," the officiant said, smiling. "I do recall your talent with reading the future."

Ismaila nodded. "Hence why I speak for Sarah Williams of Nyack today. It is not her future to marry Diddershins Gly but King Jareth."

"And you've seen this whilst your magic is bound?" Diddershins asked with a snarl. "And it would be in your self-interest to keep your family on the throne, so your prediction is hardly to be believed."

"You may take my magic, Lord Gly, but you can not take my abilities," Ismaila said, her voice steady as she turned her gaze to Sarah's fiancé. "They are entwined with my entire being."

"I can have you arrested however," Gly said, waving to a set of guards at the nearest exit. "And I am pretty sure the penalty is death for you and the one who brought you here."

Sarah cringed as she heard Hoggle whimper. She watched his fall to his knees with his head in his hands. Sarah's breath caught knowing that he had risked his life to try and save hers. Part of her wanted to smile at the courage of his friendship, but the rest of her wanted to cry and scream at the injustice of it all. Yet, her face remained a solid impenetrable mask.

Sarah looked to Jareth to see if he was going to swoop in and save his mother and Hoggle, but he remained passive and grim, still kneeling with Icca's hand gripping his shoulder.

Arse, she thought. Jareth is just going to let this all happen.

"You have brought us pivotal news," the officiant said. "Unfortunately, given that you are not supposed to be here, it has become null and void." He looked perplexed for a few moments before adding, "And we can not determine the truth of your portent."

Ismaila tutted. "Lord Stiven, you know that you can not change what is foretold. I have looked at the bud of their romance and seen the rose of their love. You can not let this marriage occur and derail their destinies." Sarah assumed Lord Stiven was the officiant who was closing his eyes and sighing at her words.

Diddershins grunted with impatience as the guards he had summoned merely stood behind Ismaila without any sign they were going to arrest her.

"I am presiding over this wedding," Stiven said to Diddershins. "There will be no arrests made until this has been annulled or you are married. If you keep trying to dictate this wedding in my temple, then I will be the one to put an end to it. Do I make myself clear, Lord Gly?"

Sarah would have smiled if she could. It would grant enough time for Jareth to do something about his mother and Hoggle at least. And perhaps, Lord Stiven would acknowledge Ismaila's reasoning as good enough to halt the wedding. Though, Sarah wasn't about to marry Jareth either. But at least she would stand a better chance of escaping when her muscles weren't frozen by some poisoned wine.

Lord Gly nodded and stepped back to his position.

Lord Stiven cleared his throat. "Icca Debe?"

"My Lord, Stiven, I speak for Sarah Williams as she is mine."

Sarah blanched at those rankling words. She was nobody's. Let alone the belonging of Jareth's lover.

"Sarah Williams of Nyack is a Hoimailuaquk…"

The air filled with gasps, cries of outrage and mutterings.

"Silence!" Stiven yelled, stamping his staff loudly on the marble ground. "Let the fae talk."

"Many years ago, Queen Milidred gave me a boon," Icca explained. "To make the next Hoimailuaquk. Our Queen knew her time was coming to an end." People started glaring at Ismaila who rolled her eyes.

"Yes, I foretold it, but I wasn't threatening the Queen with the news," Ismaila addressed the crowd, shaking her head.

"Enough," Stiven said, raising his hand. "This isn't a court, Lady Ismaila. We are not here to hear your defence."

Predicting a High Queen's doom was probably more than enough to risk banishment, so Sarah wondered if Ismaila marrying a mortal was merely a ruse or a cover for the High Queen's own fury at the inevitable end of her reign.

Ismaila merely nodded. Sarah cocked her head and rejoiced that movement seemed to be returning to her now. She hurriedly straightened her head, lest Diddershins noticed and tried to force her to imbibe more wine from the flask she knew he had in his pocket.

"I created Sarah Williams of Nyack to be my Hoimailuaquk," Icca said, proudly. "Therefore, I do speak for her. She is mine. And I refuse to allow her to marry Lord Gly."

Lord Gly was seething beside her, but wisely remained quiet. Sarah however was finding that she could muster a frown through her paralysed muscles. The chamber was silent at the revelation of her being a hoima-whatsit.

"Are you sure, Master Debe?" Stiven asked, frowning, and breaking the heavy silence. "If she is what you say she is, then she will have to marry one of us anyway, and it may as well be Lord Gly. Queen Milidred favours him."

"I am sure," Icca replied. "I created her. And if Lord Gly was favoured, then High Queen Milidred would be in attendance."

The mutterings increased once more. Lord Stiven looked torn whilst Icca remained smug. Diddershins was practically vibrating with tension beside her. Jareth, meanwhile, was watching his mum, who was now joined by a man that bore a striking resemblance to the Goblin King. Ismaila was flushing and smiling and noticeably holding the man's hand.

Sarah assumed it was his father, Marshall.

Lost in her reflections about how happy they both seemed to be, back in each other's company, she missed when suddenly the wine wore off and her body was once more her own. She fell to her knees amidst more scandalised gasps and cries.

She swiftly pulled herself back up to standing, even as her legs shook.

"Lady Sarah, is everything well?" Lord Stiven asked.

"Lord Gly was kind enough to supply me with some wine before this started," she said, in falsely cheerful voice. "I believe it has just worn off."

"Wine?" Stiven asked, glaring at Diddershins. "You dare to bring a drugged bride to my altar?"

Diddershins looked completely nonplussed. "She is mortal and lacks the stamina for an event such as this. A fortifying draught was a necessary kindness. As you can see, without it, she is positively weak."

Sarah allowed the smallest amount of anger to reflect on her face before stepping away from her fiancé. As attractive as she had found him, he now repulsed her with his weedy chin and soulless eyes. She wanted to run. Her eyes found Jareth's and for once he was smiling.

Though, she noted, it did not touch his eyes. Shivers ran the length of her spine. There was no seeking comfort from him.

Stiven cleared his throat. "I believe the case made by Master Debe is strong enough to nullify this wedding—"

"Except for the fact this union has been sanctioned by the High Queen herself," Diddershins pointed out. "She may not be in attendance, but it is with her say so that we are here today. It is her greatest wish to see me married to the Hoimailuaquk—that is my boon—and for my cousin Jareth to be married to Icca."

Despite how full of fury she was with Jareth, her heart sank at the reality that Jareth was to marry that fae who claimed ownership of her. She didn't dare look at him, lest he see her heart breaking. Instead, she focussed on Lord Stiven, hoping that he would still object.

"And while your second statement is correct," Icca said, as Jareth rose to his feet, holding Icca's hand in his. "Your first statement is not."

"It has been sanctioned," Diddershins argued.

"Yes, but unfortunately, I can overrule this," Icca said, shrugging. "Try it. Try and get married. You will see that despite any attempts, you will not in fact be able to join in matrimony. Even the High Queen can't override my right as her creator."

Lord Stiven pinched the bridge of his nose. "Shall we try?"

Sarah wanted to scream and pull away as Diddershins took her hand. Fatigue and adrenaline fought for dominance inside her body as the officiant spoke and Diddershins held her hand in a punishing grip. Dizziness swept over her as unfamiliar words echoed through her mind.

She couldn't allow this to happen. She was stronger than some puppet—some brood mare—to this hateful, greasy fae. She felt the anger boil up and then as if possessed, it occupied every single cell in her body until the ribbons that were being plaited around their wrists caught fire, shrivelled and curled off and fell to the marble floor as dust and embers.

Renewed gasps and gossip filled the hall as Diddershins angrily ordered a courtesan to replace the ribbons.

This time, Sarah let the flame sweep up his gold and red sleeve. He dropped her hand and started pressing gloved hands to the flames.

"Who is doing this?" he bellowed.

Icca tutted. "You will not succeed. Release your bride, Lord Gly."

"Never," he yelled. "I will have you arrested for interfering with mortal lives, Debe. Now let this wedding continue."

Icca merely gave a vulpine grin and indicated that he should continue.

Sarah refused to give her hand back and as he tried to snatch it up, a wall of ice formed between them so quickly that his hand collided heavily with it. He groaned and clutched his fist to his chest as the ice wall fell to the ground and shattered.

"Er…I think we ought to stop now," Stiven said, kicking a shard of ice away from him.

"NO!" Diddershins screeched, his eyes widening and spit flying out of his mouth. "She will be my wife, Gaia damn you."

The fourth attempt was met with a small tornado ripping the ribbons off their wrists and snatching at his robes and untangling his braid until his hair was a wild curtain around his weedy face.

The fifth attempt was a whirlpool drenching him and dissolving the ribbons.

"Curse you," Diddershins screamed at Sarah. "You are doing this."

Sarah stepped back, panting, exhausted but exhilarated.

Who needs to learn to control her magic, Jareth? she thought, glaring at Gly who was dripping, windswept and scorched.

"You would rather have him?" Diddershins accused in a lower tone. "The Goblin King who isn't even a real fae?"

"I would rather marry a goblin," Sarah said. "Than someone who tried to trick me to this altar."

"And you think that anyone here would not use fae trickery to marry you?" he asked, with a bark of humourless laughter. "Do you think that your Goblin King would not stoop to the same levels to have you? He may be part mortal, but he has the heart of a fae. Don't go looking for romance or love with us. It doesn't exist."

Sarah merely rolled her eyes, as Diddershins turned an ugly shade of puce.

"Perhaps I do not need to marry you, anyway. Perhaps I could just drain you right now."

He raised his hand and without Sarah lifting a finger an invisible barrier appeared between them. His hand touched the barrier, and he yelped before pulling it away.

"You are not permitted to drain my Hoimailuaquk," Icca shouted. He was moving swiftly towards the alter with his hand outstretched, presumably to hold the invisible shield between Diddershins and Sarah in place.

"How on earth did a lowborn mule get such a privilege as to choose the Hoimailuaquk?" Diddershins hissed, as he clutched his burnt hand to his chest.

"I may have been a lowborn," Icca said. "But I am in the Queen's favour and now, the Goblin King's fiancé. Only I get to decide who the Hoimailuaquk marries."

Sarah gave an indignant huff that was completely ignored.

"Do you really think that the only benefit to marrying a Hoimailuaquk is to become more powerful?" Icca asked, grinning wolfishly. "Did you think that I would really let you become the father of the next monarch?"

The entire temple went silent at this declaration. Sarah pressed a hand to her eye socket as pain lanced through her and before she knew it, she was on her knees again. Moments later, she felt strong arms lifting her up and turned to see the Jareth look-alike holding her under her arms. To his left was Hoggle and Ismaila.

"Let's get you out of here, dearie," Ismaila said, patting her on the arm. "Let these boys fight among themselves. You are free to go."

Lord Stiven nodded at her in acquiescence. "Lady Ismaila is correct. There is no chance of a wedding here today. You may go."

Sarah felt a rush of gratitude before she was pulled away from the altar and unconsciousness found her.

Jareth watched Sarah's eyes drift close as his parents and Hoggle took her away from the now duelling Icca and Diddershins. They were blasting magic and shouting at each other while Lord Stiven tried to quell any destruction to his precious temple.

It all washed over him.

After all, Jareth got what he wanted. He rescued Sarah from Diddershins clutches, even if it was a bit touch and go there for a while. And the price he had to pay?

Icca only agreed to disallow the wedding to go ahead if Jareth promised to marry him. It was a horrifying prospect, but one he would do again and again to save Sarah from her fate.

Even if Diddershins got wise to the power of being the High ruler's patriarch, it was still a life he did not wish on Sarah. And he knew, she would never forgive him if he had a way to prevent her eternity of abuse and rape and did not use it. And if Gly never caught on, well, then she would be drained of magic and then still beyond his reach.

Marrying Icca was an easy decision.

But that also meant he had to trust Icca—a fae who had been underhanded and tricky for centuries. And he could not intervene. Not even when it looked like Gly was about to get his way. He was proud of his self-control, because all he wanted to do was explode and slaughter everyone in the temple with his raw power.

He refrained and he was glad he did, even if Sarah had burnt herself out with her little display and lost consciousness. He trusted his mother and Hoggle to put her to rights again.

And he would have to somehow smooth the entire thing down with Queen Milidred when she realised Ismaila had both come Underground and returned Aboveground with no consequences. Perhaps it would be enough for her to know he was engaged to Icca and would therefore produce no natural heir.

She had hated his family for centuries after Jareth had slighted her for something he had accidentally done as a child—a mere fae-ling. He knew that was the reason that his mother was really banished. To hurt him.

Fae were fickle creatures except when it came to holding grudges. But in his case, he knew he would never waver in his love and devotion towards Sarah. Even while he was married to someone else.

He tried not to think too hard about how Icca had rescued Sarah out of the firepan, but put her into the fire as now every bachelor present will be concocting plans to marry her. And some of them will be no better than Diddershins. Worse in fact.

Jareth knew the only failsafe way to keep her safe would have been to marry her himself. And that was out of the question now. Icca had seen to that. He had played his only hand to prevent her marrying his cousin, but he had nothing left to secure her future.

A clap of thunder rang through the temple and both feuding fae were frozen in place. Jareth rolled his eyes and while he still had the chance, he slipped out. Icca was sure to find him wherever he went, but first he needed to see his mother…and Sarah.

Jareth arrived in Harrows Lane to find only his mother.

"Where is she?" he asked, striding towards her. Ismaila was sitting in an armchair looking far from composed.

"I sent her home with her father," she answered, massaging her temples. "We produced a story to fool the police. Mr Robert Williams will tell them that she had tried to explore the haunted house on Harrows Lane, got herself trapped, and I found her and called her father. Sarah and I will corroborate it."

Jareth nodded. "Mortal law enforcement is the least of my concerns."

"Yes, what have you done?" Ismaila asked, with reproof in her tone. "Why didn't you intervene?"

"What could I have done?" he asked.

"The more of us that stood up, the greater the chance we would have had," she replied, rolling her shoulders. "Now everyone and their dog will know she is to be the mother of the next Queen or King of the Underground and we have merely won a battle in what will become a war."

"And what else could I have done, mother?" he asked.

"Married her yourself."

"I couldn't challenge Gly. I could not stop him marrying Sarah without a bargaining chip." He paced before the fire. "Mother, it was fortuitous that I figured out in time that Icca was behind all of it. To save Sarah, I have to marry the man that got my mother ousted and my father alone at the mercy of the fae and not to mention, set this entire trap up to begin with."

He growled as his mother paled.

"Icca did this?"

Jareth sat down and slowly revealed everything he knew about Icca's plan. "And the end goal was to have me broken hearted and vulnerable to his comfort but in the end, he was able to blackmail me."

"He used me and took my memories away to ascertain that Sarah was your soulmate, and you have to marry him?" Ismaila cried out. "I can not allow it."

"Thankfully, he wants a long engagement so he can enjoy the perks of being a fiancé before being tied down as my consort," Jareth said, running his fingers through his hair. "It gives me a few more years of freedom."

"And without an heir, Diddershins gets our throne anyway," Ismaila mumbled. "I agreed to my banishment with little complaint because I had you and you would produce an heir. How did you get caught out so badly, my boy?"

Jareth shrugged. "I was so focussed on Sarah and her life, that I didn't see the clues around me. Not until I found Sarah in an interdimensional prison cell."

"And all this time we blamed Gly," Ismaila said. "And he was just a pawn outmanoeuvred by Icca too."

"It is no surprise why Queen Milidred picked him for the task of finding Sarah," Jareth said, sullenly. "He is surprisingly conniving for a lowborn."

They sat in silence for a few moments until Jareth heaved a sigh. "I better return to my kingdom and set that back to its usual level of chaos."

"Jareth," Ismaila said softly. "I forgave you many centuries ago. You know that don't you?"

Jareth frowned. "About your sister?"

Ismaila nodded. "If my sister had lived long enough to raise Diddershins right instead of his father doing a pathetic job, then the urgency for us to stay on the throne wouldn't be there. But—" She inhaled deeply, "—It isn't your fault she died. And given Icca's machinations, the result may have very well been the same."

Jareth was rooted to the spot. Not once had his mother spoken to him about his Aunt Sasha's, death. He had blamed himself but she never had. Though, she also hadn't exactly acquitted him of the blame before either.

He hadn't killed her himself. She was arrested and subsequently killed for treason, but Jareth had been partially responsible for her arrest. Given that his innate magical ability had revealed her dreams of regicide, and that Jareth had spoken out loud about what he had seen, leading Queen Milidred to learn of the Plot through the grapevine…Jareth had never forgiven himself. He understood why Diddershins Gly hated him. He had cost him his mother. Not to mention, standing in the way of the throne.

And now, he was partially responsible for him losing his bride.

"Mother…" Jareth said, running his hand through his hair once more.

"You were a child, Jareth," his mother said, standing and pulling her into his arms. "And she was plotting to kill the Queen. You were not to know that."

"But it contributed to your banishment," Jareth said, holding his mother tight. He could not remember her ever holding him like this. "In a roundabout way." Ismaila predicting High Queen Mildred's golden years on the throne was also a factor.

"Marshall and I will be together again," Ismaila replied, smiling. "When you marry Sarah and produce a child, you will be untouchable."

Jareth pulled away from his mother, drawing his lips into a grim line and staring her down. "You know that is not possible now."

"You will find a way to break your engagement," she said, confidently. "You know I am right."

"Mother, your magic can be wrong," he said, folding his arms. "Like I have been wrong. Remember how my weakness got my aunt in trouble the first time? Before me seeing her dreams? And an amateur mistake like that contributed to her downfall."

Ismaila frowned, but he didn't know why she would doubt his words. Jareth's inability to trace magic to its source was a constant bane of his mother's life. It had led him to make an accusation that had brought his mother's sister to trial. He had mistaken his own magic for that of his aunt's on a missing item, that Jareth had been so attached to but could not even recall all these centuries later.

"You were a child, Jareth," she reiterated. "If I have led you to believe that you own the blame, then I…then I am sorry for it."

Jareth looked at his mother with new eyes. Had it just been his guilt all these years that made him think his mother blamed him? She had never said anything but she had tried to make him work harder on his magical tracing capabilities. And to Jareth, that was as good as her holding him to his responsibility to fix what he had broken.

"Sasha was not your responsibility to protect," Ismaila said, sitting down once more. "But Sarah is. We can not sit here and repair the past. Sasha is dead because she committed treason. Go to Sarah. Fix this, Jareth."

If Jareth had been hoping for a heart to heart to air out all these old family skeletons, he was going to remain disappointed. His mother had acknowledged his pain and that was the end of it. He had to accept that was all he was going to get after centuries of living with the guilt.

"I can not go to Sarah," he said, sullenly. "I made a promise. I came to see if you returned without incident and that she was safe. Now I must return."

"Break your promise!"

"I won't." He turned to exit, but paused with his back to her. "I can't."

In a flurry of feathers, he set about on his return to his castle.