The next morning slowly tugged her from unconsciousness like she drudged through thick mud. It felt like she'd been asleep for days. The room was dark, though she could see sunlight peeking through the curtains.
Looking next to her she felt a small pang of disappointment to find the other side of the bed empty. A curious part of her wondered if she'd find his smell lingering on the pillow, but she quickly shook her head to chase those thoughts away. Crawling out of the bed she threw open the large curtains and immediately the room was bathed in sunlight. Sarah took no time to look around. In fact, she was so determined to get up and ready that she almost missed the handwritten note on a nearby table.
"04:30 Daybreak
Dear Sarah, I trust you slept well. Use the room's facilities at your leisure. Pull the red cord by the entrance to alert staff to ready your breakfast. Freshen up while it is prepared. Girvin will escort you at 7:30. A pack will be ready."
Briefly looking around Sarah did not see a clock, but her instincts told her that there probably wasn't a lot of time left. With her feet starting to grow cold, she quickly hurried into the main rooms, tugging the cord before dashing into the bathroom.
After scrubbing herself thoroughly she felt clean again for the first time in a week.
Her new outfit seemed rather warm. Whereas before her clothes had been mostly fine fabrics she'd normally carry in spring, her current outfit mostly consisted of furs and sturdier material. She was even given a heavy cloak.
Walking into the main room her stomach growled loudly at the smell of eggs, bacon, fresh bread and fruits. Her feet carried her so fast to the table that she almost jumped when Girvin walked in.
"My lady, good morning to you. I hope you have slept well?" The soldier bowed deeply.
"Hi Girvin! I slept fine, thank you. How about you? Join me for breakfast?" The woman tossed her cloak on one of the chairs and enthusiastically slipped into the one next to it.
"Thank you for your offer, but I have to decline. Is this meal sufficient?"
"Sufficient," Sarah asked incredulously. "This meal is fit for a king."
"Or a queen," he said while moving towards one of the windows. There was an undeniable suggestion in those few words.
Eyes narrowed at his back. "Girvin, you'll spoil my appetite."
"I beg your forgiveness, my lady." The soldier bowed respectfully with a little hint of amusement in his voice.
"And stop being so uptight already," she added, at which the man grinned.
"As you wish, my lady. I wouldn't dare displease you with the king finally in good spirits. I couldn't help but notice he'd been spared a night on the couch."
The brunette's eyes widened and her cheeks turned a deep crimson. "It wasn't like that!"
"Like what, my lady? It certainly wasn't my intention to make any inappropriate suggestions." The boisterous laugh coming from him was a new sound, but very pleasant.
"You know what? I take it back. No more leniency for you. I had no idea you had such a potty mouth. And while I am enjoying a perfectly nice breakfast, no less."
"Potty mouth," the man repeated, audibly and visibly confused at the term.
"Yes, it's used to describe someone using inappropriate language or making inappropriate remarks."
While Sarah ate, Girvin strapped on his armor. When she was nearly done eating he immediately spoke up. "I do hate to rush you, my lady. But the king will be expecting us by the city gates within half an hour. Would you like me to package some food for you?"
The woman jumped up, brushing a napkin along her mouth and grabbing the cloak. "No, I'm ready. Let's go."
"Wonderful." He grabbed two packs, slinging one across his back while holding on to the other.
Their strides through the castle were large and purposeful. In record time they reached the castle gates. The carriage ride was surprisingly steady while they headed down the streets of the city. Peering out the small window she could see glimpses of normal city life returning in the early morning sun. Merchants carried their products in large carts, mothers walked with their children and people of nobility strutted along the pavement with their chins held high. Several people tried to catch a glimpse of the carriage's occupants. It was rather charming.
"So, what is the plan?"
"We're headed north in pursuit of any further signs of the breach. It is expected that trespassers will prefer a climate much like their own, rather than the warm weather of the south. Or perhaps they simply hope that the less densely populated north will offer them more security or secrecy."
"That explains the warm apparel. Do we know what kind of people we're dealing with?"
"Yes and no. The west has many different races and creatures. We don't know who would be foolish enough to illegally trespass into a land of conflict while His Majesty is establishing a sense of order and peace."
"Could it be people looking to aid the rebels that are still opposed to Jareth?"
"It is possible, though not incredibly likely. If outsiders were looking to aid the resistance, the best step would be to smuggle the malcontents out of His Majesty's kingdom. Once across the border, the king would have to file for repatriation back into his jurisdiction. That process is not only lengthy but also incredibly difficult under active court rulings. Especially if the target has reasonable grounds for immigration."
"Surely people have already crossed the border, if it offers so much security."
"Not as far as we know. His Majesty has kept tight reins on import, export and immigration. Not a single piece of fruit leaves his kingdom without a written manifest and approval by the king or his dukes or duchesses. Immigration will not only take a fortune and consent by the king personally, but piles of paperwork, careful monitoring and a lengthy waiting time for each person concerned. Immigrating a family of four will likely cost you everything you own, a week's work of paperwork and at least fifty years on the waiting list. That is, if your initial request will even be approved by a duke before it is passed on to our king. No doubt you've seen His Majesty reading and writing documents in your time here so far. The vast majority of these papers have concerned matters regarding the borders."
"Wow," Sarah breathed, thinking back to the times she'd seen him pouring over documents and scrolls.
Lost in thought, she didn't realize they reached the gates until the carriage came to a halt.
The woman never figured she'd recognize someone's hand, yet when the doors of the carriage opened and one was held out she immediately recognized it to be Jareth's. She took the offered hand and stepped out of the carriage, her cloak draped over her arm.
Seeing Jareth after what happened yesterday night had a stronger effect on her than she'd anticipated. Somehow those silk bangs and mischievous mismatched eyes now seemed completely different. Her gaze lingered on his long lashes while he quietly took her cloak and shifted to the definition of his jaw when he looked up and away. It made her realize that Jareth was the first man she'd ever met who never even had the smallest amount of stubble, not even a hint of hair growth underneath that fair skin. Not even after days on the road. He instructed Girvin to strap up Sarah's pack and for the others to stand to attention. She followed him to the awaiting procession of soldiers, mounted and ready to leave. With a small smile she petted Gaeth's neck.
Sarah felt Jareth's hands come to rest on her waist to help her up. Her hand clasped around his. Their gazes met. "Jareth, Girvin and I talked on the way here… I was wondering something." He looked at her quietly, hands tightening lightly on her waist. "Girvin said that you closely monitor anyone crossing your borders. I was wondering… why don't you let the people unhappy with your rule just… leave?"
Jareth's face hardened, his lips a rather thin line. For a moment, his gaze wandered. "It's… complicated."
It wasn't difficult to interpret that as a refusal to answer, especially when he lifted her up towards the back of her horse without another word. It was tempting to prod him again for an answer, but the past had proven that poking him for information simply didn't work. It only caused tension and mutual frustration. Her eyes followed him when he walked around her and mounted his own horse. With a gesture of his hand, the soldiers spurred their horses.
—-
The day had proven to put Jareth on edge. While somewhat moody at the best of times, this expedition had made him irritable, to put it kindly. It wasn't so much the traveling that made him ill-tempered, but rather the developing situation.
They had been hugging the border, heading north. They'd passed a small village. It only had a few houses, perhaps fifteen at most, which had been left completely destroyed. While soldiers had offered to stay behind and salvage what they could and check for survivors, Jareth had refused. Instead, he had insisted on keeping going to prevent a second village from falling prey.
The pillaged town had been another display of destruction and death that hit Sarah just as hard as the first two times she'd seen it. There hadn't been as much bodies and gore as the attack in the grasslands or even the camp. Most people were likely to have been killed in their homes, but there had been two unfortunate victims that she'd had trouble avoiding while they walked past the village. Especially when watching how some of the soldiers simply had to step over them, their faces stoic. The chalk white skin, milky gray eyes and blue lips of the two deceased men had reintroduced that terrible taste of bile in her mouth again. The mere thought of others behind the dark windows, of possible women and even children, only made it worse.
Jareth had been too occupied to see the horror on her face and the tears in her eyes, but Girvin had kept close, speaking kindly to her and trying his best to keep her distracted and to console her. While it hadn't helped much, she was thankful. She'd remained silent for most of that day, barely reacting to Girvin's attempts to keep her grounded even long after they'd left the village. Eventually he resorted to silence while her mind cruelly replayed her recent encounters with death.
It wasn't until dinner that evening that Jareth seemed to catch on to Sarah's downhearted demeanor when she was picking at her food. She had retreated to sit by Gaeth by herself. The horse laying down provided some support for her back while she sat.
"Penny for your thoughts?"
The woman jolted, clearly caught off guard. Her expression remained rather sorrowful and she dispassionately put her food aside. Jareth sat down next to her and looked at her quietly. His hand gently took hers and her skin warmed with the familiar sense of his calming spell. Eventually their eyes met.
"I'm just not used to seeing suffering like I have in my time here, I guess," she quietly admitted.
"It's one of the reasons I advocated against your stay here. Are you alright?"
Sarah sighed when he handed her the plate of food again and she leaned back against Gaeth. "I'll be fine. I just need some to process it, I guess. Though I… I'm kind of dreading going to sleep soon."
"You fear we'll be attacked while we rest?"
"No, I'm sure there will be a capable watch during nighttime. I'm… worried I'll get nightmares, I guess. Which is very self centered, I know. Some bad dreams are hardly as bad as what those victims have suffered."
"Let's strike a deal. If you finish your meal, I'll spin you some gentle dreams tonight."
Recently she had the tendency to forget that Jareth was a magical being. Looking up at him, she realized he was awaiting an answer and she nodded. "Okay, Jareth. Thanks." With a small smile she continued to pick at her food.
"Would you like me to give you some space?"
With her eyes still downcast she took a second to consider his question. "Actually, I would like some company."
"Then I am all yours. Eat."
"Yes, Your Majesty." A moment later she felt his arm wrap around her shoulders, resting on Gaeth's back. His fingers brushed lightly along the length of her arm. His warmth on her side made it incredibly inviting to snuggle up to him. Her fingers fidgeted nervously.
"Would you like me to feed you, Precious?"
Blushing, Sarah quickly cleared her throat. "No," she insisted, taking a large bite of her food. He chuckled quietly and let his fingers trail up until they whispered along her neck. A shiver could not be repressed and he pulled her a little closer, his hand closing around her upper arm.
"So… What sort of dreams can I expect tonight?" When he remained silent she turned her head to look up at him, already knowing the way he'd be smirking down at her.
And smirking he was. That infuriating and breathtaking smirk with those sharp teeth peering from his lips. That trademark grin that made his eyes glitter playfully. The frown shadowing her eyes nudging him just a little bit closer to a Cheshire's leer. "Don't you dare, Birdbrain," she snapped. "It's so… you, twisting a gift so you get something out of it."
"I don't have to be the sole beneficiary in this, Sarah." The woman reached the likeness of a tomato in record speed, shoulders growing rigid in his hold. He seemed amused by her newly acquired achievement and laughed. Pressing a kiss to her cheek he gracefully rose to his feet. "Please excuse me, I'll have to tend to a few more things before we retire. I will collect you here in approximately fifteen minutes to escort you to your tent and arrange your gift."
Rather than just sitting around twiddling her thumbs she helped around at the encampment, clearing the cooking supplies while chatting with a few soldiers. Even though they were either overly polite or uninterested, most were pleasant. She hadn't even noticed it had taken about an hour for Jareth to come pick her up. Though once he did, the men quickly insisted on taking care of the remaining work in her stead. The Goblin King didn't give her much of an option either, practically dragging her off with little more than a handful of words.
As was most often the case, her tent was practically in the dead center of the camp, surrounded by Jareth's most trusted men. The blonde ushered her into her tent and had her change while he waited outside, once done he entered the tent after her. His presence filled the tent until far past its boundaries as usual.
"O-ok, so how does this work exactly? Do I… eat a peach?"
He seemed exceedingly pleased with her association, grinning from ear to ear. "Would you like one? Because that can definitely be arranged." Her irritated expression told him plenty. "But no, no peaches are required." Mentioning her to lie down, he stretched out beside her. "Technically, I can do it from miles away." Leaning on his elbow he grinned down at her. "But really, where's the fun in that?"
The woman eyed him wearily. "You know, despite initially being really grateful for your offer, I'm starting to regret this deal."
"Ever the drama queen, Sarah mine." Jareth grinned at her little pout. "Now while I could simply snap my fingers and have you fall unconscious, it makes for a rather uncomfortable way of waking up. Why don't you lay back and relax?"
"Is it weird that I'm kind of nervous?"
"You're overthinking it. If you like, we can chat for a little longer before I bespell you."
Nodding, the brunette tried to get comfortable, awkwardly and repeatedly adjusting her arms underneath the covers before settling. Looking up at the ceiling of the tent her curiosity started the conversation for her. "Jareth," she asked quietly. He let out an acknowledging hum. "Was is true?"
He looked down at her, resting his head on his hand while he lay propped up on his side. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to elaborate on that question."
"But what no one knew…" The sentence trailed off, figuring that's all the context he needed. Even though she dreaded doing so, her eyes met his.
The man looked at her, then his eyes lowered. "Yes," he said so quietly that she'd almost missed it.
It was all too easy to linger in that admission. Too easy to get flustered and let the weight of it sink in. She needed to say something and quickly, before she either shut down or would make a fool of herself. "Girvin told me that Alana and the soldiers can sense the binding charm." Sarah didn't miss the somewhat reserved shift in his demeanor. "So a lot of people must be let in on the fact that you're protective over me. How… How many people are aware of the book? Or more specifically, that one sentence?"
"One. Very recently two."
"Two?" Sarah turned onto her side to fully face him.
"Its writer. Me." His eyes diverted. "And now you."
"You wrote it?" His eyes connected with hers again and things went quiet for a second. "Is there only one copy?"
Jareth grinned. "Would that make you feel special?"
The brunette lowered her eyes and the air grew a little heavier. "You've always made me feel special," she admitted.
For a moment the silence stretched on and slowly Sarah started to retreat into her bedroll again. The man grinned and moved in close enough so he could wrap one arm around her back and embrace her without pulling her from the warm comfort of the bedroll.
Sarah felt her heart skip a beat when her cheek came to rest against the soft fabric of his shirt, his warmth seeping into her already heated skin. She let her eyes slip closed, allowing herself to lightly snuggle against him. A sense of relaxation came over her when he started caressing her back, his hand brushing up and down comfortingly.
The corners of her mouth twitched up when she practically melted against him. "Are you trying to lull me to sleep?" The king shushed her quietly, pressing a kiss to her hair. Chuckling quietly she slowly succumbed to a sudden sleepiness that overcame her. The last thing she felt was Jareth's breath brushing against the crown of her hair.
—-
The next morning consisted of a quick breakfast and cleanup of the campsite. Tents were swiftly disassembled and cleaned up. Sarah had assisted where she could, preparing meals along with a few soldiers and handing them out. It kept her busy enough that she didn't see Jareth until it was time to get going.
"Good morning," Sarah offered kindly, though carefully. Rising onto the saddle once more.
He turned to face her and offered her a smile. "Good morning, Sarah. I trust you slept well?"
Oh, she was certain he'd make sure of it. While she'd expected him to do something rather inappropriate or somewhat self-centered she found she hadn't only slept deeply and peacefully, she'd dreamed lucidly. However, it hadn't been a normal dream. It felt different. Real, yet with endless possibilities. Like she'd stepped into unconsciousness with nothing but a clean canvas and millions of different colors of paint.
"I did. Perhaps better than ever." She smiled. "Thank you, Jareth. Genuinely."
"You are very welcome, Sarah." His smile dropped then and he mentioned with his hand, signaling the men to get going.
Much like it had before, the ride started out with positivity on Sarah's part, but after a few hours became a little stale. It wasn't until a shift in the air that she became alert again. While unsure what exactly it was or what had happened, several instincts went off. She shifted in her saddle and looked back towards the procession behind her. After that her eyes met with Jareth's and she could tell his mismatched gaze was guarded.
In a more nonchalant tone he slowed to a walk. "Na airdeall, mos na lean. Desiel ten' seasamh temear." Sarah tried to gauge what he'd said by the reactions of the soldiers, but their faces remained passive. Several sped up to a trot and passed them, while others stayed back.
Soon the Regiment started to scatter into smaller groups, several breaking away and disappearing into the trees. Girvin herded Sarah into a small group of her own, flanked by soldiers. Confused, she looked around for Jareth, but he'd disappeared. In a matter of a few minutes none of the Regiment was in view anymore, save for the handful of soldiers, one of which was Girvin.
Following their lead she dismounted, leaving her cloak draped over the horse's back. Girvin led them deeper into the forest. "We keep moving and we keep quiet. Salum, keep our tracks hidden," he said to one of the men. He was one of the smallest of their group. Wordlessly he bowed his head before uttering a phrase under his breath. A strange sensation rippled along her skin and she curiously looked down at herself. She didn't look different. "Jabal, keep us hidden. Once it's safe, the king will send us a sign." Jabal nodded, making a gesture with his hand. The air seemed to grow a little thinner.
With that, they wandered into the forest. It was eerily quiet. There was no rustle of nearby wildlife, no trickling of a nearby stream. No chirping from birds or insects. Even the trees seemed to hold steady for their sake.
Despite the spell, Sarah kept an eye on her footing, trying her best not to step on anything that might have made a sound were it not for the spell. She was flanked on each side by a soldier, who gestured things at each other every now and then. Girvin was ahead of her and occasionally held out his hand to help her up a small hill or step over tree stumps. The forest remained deadly quiet and shadows grew longer. It felt very unnatural.
A long time passed. Possibly hours. Steadily they reached more mountainous areas, shifting from simply walking to trudging or even climbing. More and more often Sarah would accept Girvin's help to overcome obstacles. Her grip on the forest floor had lessened. While she sometimes slipped on wet leaves or mud, it was strange to see that it left no mark. Even the rotting tree stumps would leave no sign of damage if she snagged on some splintered bark. It did make her wonder to what extent this spell erased influences. Similarly, the woman had been curious if anyone would notice if she screamed, or if the soldiers next to her would even hear anything. Maybe she had gone temporarily mute. There was not a breath to be heard, despite the increasingly strenuous activity, after all. But this was hardly the time to test those waters.
Reaching the top of another hill the forest scenery did not show even the slightest sign of thinning or even change, despite the fact they'd been walking for a long time. The two soldiers at her side took her hands when they smoothly glided down a slope, almost lifting her off the floor when she attempted to keep her footing. Girvin leapt over a crevice in the ground ahead, turning to Sarah and holding out his hands. It wasn't too big of a jump. Even though she wasn't athletic she could probably make that. Probably. With a twinge of uncertainty she looked down into the crevice and immediately clasped her hand over her mouth when her lips involuntarily parted.
Alarmed at her reaction, Girvin followed her gaze down.
Sarah felt tears prick in her eyes, seeing glassy eyes staring up at her. Worse yet, it was a vaguely familiar face, confirmed by the First Regiment's regalia and a small leather bracelet around his arm. One of the other soldiers moved to cover her eyes with his hand. Breaths were feverishly expelled from her nose while adrenaline cruelly smacked her over the head. Taking a moment to repress the urge to scream or panic she willed herself to calm down.
Gently she peeled away the soldier's hand, her eyes directed stiffly ahead. Girvin was rather wildly signing towards the other men, his brows knitted together and his pale eyes blazing. Afterwards he insistently gestured for Sarah to jump over.
So she leapt. The moment her feet touched the ground there was a sound that almost resembled a cave in. A frightening rumble of which its violence trembled underneath their feet. The soldiers looked around, convinced that it wasn't Sarah's jump that had caused the violent shift in the landscape.
Ahead purple tendrils started slithering through the forest like thick mist. All soldiers crowded around Sarah protectively and drew their weapons. Uncomfortably, Sarah noted she was unarmed when she reached for the knife Girvin had gifted her. It was still in her pack.
Girvin and Sarah exchanged a look when they heard a familiar voice nearby. As if it had beckoned the purple mist away from them the smoke suddenly drifted back towards its source like it had played in reverse at double speed. The soldiers grew concerned, their wary gazes scanning the environment. Despite no word being spoken between them, it was clear that they knew this was not Jareth's magic. The men exchanged a quick glance before Girvin waved his hand. Cautiously the small group started moving towards the area where the mists disappeared to.
Ahead of them was a large cliff that cleanly tore the forest in two. On the opposite side of the cliff were at least a dozen purple stalagmites, three feet tall and two inches thick, protruding from the ground like a tainted illness sprouting from the ground. From the glasslike objects came a purple steam and the fading light of the sun scattered purple reflections on the floor. The glittering and winking of the objects in the light felt oddly threatening.
Sarah jumped when another amethyst-like spear was violently thrust in the ground from beyond the tree line. The ease in which it smoothly penetrated the ground was a little sickening. It pierced the ground near the edge of a cliff, causing a rather large chunk of earth to crumble off and disappear below. The small group reflexively ducked a little lower, Girvin's arm wrapping around Sarah.
There was shouting coming from the shadows. What was said was lost to the brunette, as it definitely wasn't English. Though, it wasn't the language Jareth spoke often either. It was a female voice and it was rapidly coming closer.
Before its owner came into view a different shape emerged from the shadows. At first most that could be seen was a bright flash. A part within the light seemed solid, while another part seemed to erupt from the floor, a mix between the consistency of lava and lightning. Once the shape settled the light dimmed enough for their group to see who it was - a tall figure standing proud and firm between the semi-translucent spikes. His voice carried far past the trees, speaking in that same unfamiliar language.
From the trees walked a tall woman, her skin a pale blue and her hair dark like the night sky. In one of her hands she carried a shortsword. The other was empty, though there was an eerie mist coming from her fingertips. There were tears in the fabric on her arms, exposing slivers of pale blue skin, torn open into red slits. She shouted at Jareth, her angular but fine face contorted in anger. Her fingers wrapped tightly around the grip of the blade.
The king held his ground confidently, replying with his voice carrying a rather disinterested tone. The woman laughed humorlessly, after which everything suddenly went incredibly fast. Jareth dashed forward so fast that for a moment the woman seemed scared - or at least surprised. She narrowed her eyes and within the blink of an eye conjured one of the large purple spears, effortlessly sending it straight for him.
Had Girvin not quickly covered her mouth with his hand Sarah would have screamed, seeing the purple object sail right past him. Everything went so fast after that. Every time Sarah had caught up with either of the two, they'd already moved.
The brunette struggled against Girvin's grasp but he held her steady. Tears freely streamed down her cheeks and along the soldier's fingers. They had to help. They had to do something!
Her struggling increased when slowly the group started to back away from the scene. Two spears tore through the monarch, damaging his armor and tearing apart his cloak. However, no blood could be seen. Her struggle was futile. The woman didn't stand a chance against the firm hold on her.
All seven of them flinched and fell back when an immensely bright light consumed their view and punched them back with a frightening amount of force. A sound that reminded them of lightning crackled through the air followed by a loud explosion and breaking glass. Along her face and hands she felt splinters cutting her skin.
The men recovered more quickly than her, immediately grabbing hold of her and urging her back. Her body was limply dragged to her feet, her legs weak and her heart beating wildly. It took her a few blinks before Sarah's vision restored and the high pitched tone left her ears.
Her eyes fell on Jareth, who was now holding the woman by her throat with her feet off the ground. The trees behind them were scorched, branches falling down left and right for as far as the eye could see. From Jareth's legs flashed a strange looking current, zapping along the nearby dirt and sliding down his legs. The woman's face was contorted in pain. Jareth asked a question, his voice rough but booming. The only reason Sarah could tell the woman said something in return was by the moving of her lips, from which blood started to trickle down. Her skin was starting to redden, possibly blister, and agony etched deep lines onto her features.
With a final few words, Jareth threw her down, her body not hitting the floor until she was hurled several feet back. He grasped the fastening of his cloak, tearing off the remaining parts as they would no longer serve a purpose.
In his brief moment of distraction, the woman weakly sat up to lean on her elbow while the other hand summoned another spear. She hurled it towards him with her last remaining strength. As soon as the object left her touch, she crumpled to the floor.
Sarah almost managed to break free from the men pulling her away when she saw Jareth stagger. The spear hit his shoulder, viciously tearing the side of his armor. The substance molded into his skin. Several unknown figures appeared from the shadows of the destroyed forest. Two tended to the motionless woman on the floor, while the others drew their weapons cautiously, wearily looking at the destruction around them and trying to measure Jareth's next move.
The alien electric current that had surrounded the Goblin King had sizzled down. There was an unsteadiness in the way he tried to keep upright. He adjusted his feet multiple times and his knees buckled. His hand came to rest over the gash by his shoulder. He turned from the people approaching and towards the cliff. His face was unreadable but his forehead was glistening. Holding up his free hand he looked down at it. A faint glow flickered from his palm, then faded.
Sarah mouthed an inaudible 'please', over and over, while tears streamed down her face. While the soldiers still held on to her firmly, they were no longer backing up. Girvin's touch was tense and everyone froze, seeing the blonde monarch fighting to keep his footing. Two soldiers gestured towards each other doubtfully. The people behind Jareth mercilessly kept closing in.
The woman felt the grasps on her body tighten reflexively when Jareth turned, his heel angled backwards over the edge of the cliff. Simultaneously his other knee buckled and his body tipped back, his hand briefly grasping air before he disappeared from view.
Sarah finally managed to break free by a kick of adrenaline. She would have screamed. She wanted to scream. But for some reason she didn't. She couldn't. All she could wrench out was a whimper. Girvin swiftly reestablished his hold on her and the woman heard a distant splash.
Water.
Oh, thank God.
The people across the cliff looked at each other, one of them speaking up before they quickly turned around and ran, taking the downed woman while speaking among themselves hurriedly.
Within the blink of an eye Sarah had turned to Girvin. "Girvin, Jareth can swim, right?"
"Swim?" Girvin exchanged a look with the others. They seemed worried. It answered her question plenty.
With a sharp shove she threw Girvin off her. She ran up towards the cliff side, viewing the steep drop and the frothing river. For a small second she doubted herself. Then she took a gulp of air and jumped down towards the churning depths below. The last thing she heard before the rushing water drowned everything else out was Girvin screaming after her.