In the Eyes of the Queen [ Labyrinth ] ✔

Chapter Fifteen

"Why were you sleeping in my bed?"

I cringe. That is not the question I wanted to ask! And I called it my bed. Again.

The suddenness of my question seems to have caught the Goblin King off guard, but he recovers so quickly that I wonder if I imagined it.

"You asked me to sleep in your bed," he replies with frustrating vagueness and a smirk that goes wider as he says "your."

I mentally curse myself for asking a question I did not intend, and for calling it my bed. He will hang that over my head. On the other hand, I know he is lying. There is no circumstance under which I would ask that of Jareth, and "I do not recall asking you to stay in our—" wrong correction, Sarah "your bed. You said you would let me sleep alone."

Much to my relief, he ignores my even more embarrassing slip of the tongue and replies "Of course you do not recall it; you were asleep at the time."

"So you decided to succumb to the whims of my sleep talk?"

Jareth's mouth twitches into another smirk. It scares me. I had just attempted to insult him, and yet he smirks at me. Clearly, there is still something he knows that I do not—another something he can hold over my head.

"It seems we will get nowhere while I remain cryptic, and you sarcastic."

I should not care what he says, but I still feel chastised by his last remark. "I promise not to be sarcastic if you explain plainly."

It is his turn to cringe. He likes being mysterious, apparently.

To my great surprise, he sighs and says, "Fine," in a rather uncharacteristically resigned tone.

I just stare at him.

"You fell asleep in the sitting room."

I remember that.

"I found you asleep on one of the settees when I returned. You have a bad habit of doing that."

Perhaps his was the presence I felt in that moment of almost-wakefulness.

"I—" he hesitates uncharacteristically.

I do not interrupt. The Goblin King does not know what to say. This moment is too precious. I must savor it.

Jareth casts away whatever thought muddled his speech and begins again, bolstering his usual aloof arrogance too much to be believable. "It is not your place to lie around my sitting room like that, so I decided you needed to go to bed where you belonged."

Habitually, I cringe inwardly at all the possible misconceptions that would arise from that statement if we were amongst my usual company.

"I picked you up and carried you there."

There is an evil glint in his eye. I know I am not going to like the next part of his story.

"By the time I stood over the bed, you had clung to me." There is that evil gleam in his eye again. "I could not pry you off without rudely waking you, so I decided to lay you down and see if you would release me when you felt the security of the mattress, but when you did not, I had to resign myself to lie beside you. I waited for you to relax into the bed and release me, but you never did."

Lies. It is a lie, but I do not know how to translate it into the truth. Certainly, there is some truth to it, but he is representing it in a way that makes him feel superior. Perhaps I had grabbed a hold of his shirt, or even unconsciously put my arms around his neck, but either way it would have been in order to steady myself in his hold—though I doubt he needed help, my human mind cannot think that deeply when asleep. Such an act could have continued until he maneuvered me into bed, but I should have let go then. Maybe I did, but then why did he stay?

Suddenly, the words flow out of my mouth even before I understand them. "You found me asleep in the sitting room and feared I would be uncomfortable. Knowing I was asleep, you opted to carry me to bed, hoping I would never know of your concern or generosity. I... unconsciously clung to you as you carried me, but only in order to steady myself, which was probably unnecessary, but my human instinct would only know I was suddenly in the air, not who was holding me there. Of course standing over the bed, I still held on. How was I supposed to know we had reached our destination? You probably resigned yourself then and there to use it as an excuse to sleep beside me."

The Goblin King stares at me, stunned.

"I was asleep, so I do not know, but that seems just as likely a series of events as your version of the story. In either case, you cannot pretend to be the martyr. Do not think that I am not aware that you were holding me when I woke." My cheeks burn with the admission, but it is necessary to prove that he was a willing victim, if a victim at all.

I immediately regret it. Jareth is walking toward me in long, even strides and I do not like the look in his eyes. This is probably the farthest place from where I originally intended our conversation to go.

The distance between us closes rapidly even though I step back until I can go no farther. The stone wall is cold against my back, but I cannot will myself to move sideways. Jareth and I stand toe-to-toe. I was able to maintain eye contact despite my trepidation, but now I am regretting it, as it currently requires me to look at him with an upturned face.

I break eye contact at the shock of feeling his hands snake around my waist and pull me from the wall. For a moment I am grateful to be rid of the cold, but then I realize that this puts me closer to him.

Suddenly, his breath is in my ear. "So, you are 'aware' of me, are you?"

That is not what I meant! I am immediately annoyed at his continued manipulation of my words and actions. I try to push away and tell him so, but I am back against the wall with only a slight movement. I mentally groan. Having him pin me against a wall is no better. In fact, it is worse. I reverse my movement so I am not longer against the cold stones.

I try to make my brain operate despite the sudden circumstances and my heightened annoyance—bordering on anger. I cannot deny what he said. Although that is not what I meant by my words, it is also not untrue.

"That is not what I meant, and you know it." I do not dare turn my face up to look at him. We are too close together as it is, though we only touch where his hands hold me on either side of my waist.

"I suppose not, but that does not mean it is not true."

Jareth is too cunning. How do I get out of this? His hold is too firm to break by going to one side or the other, and there is a wall behind me. I am a mere mortal; I cannot transport myself at will. No disappearing or walking through walls; no right, left, back, or forward.

Wait. If he is acting like, does that mean...? I jerk my head up sharply and search his eyes demandingly, using my wet-behind-the-ears woman's intuition in full force. What I see is both encouraging and frightening, but it is definitely not lingering attraction. Whether or not he has forgiven me my perceived injustices against him, his infatuation with me has either grown, or he has grown bolder, or perhaps he has acknowledged its existence when he did not before recognize it.

"Jareth," I begin, and I have his completeattention. I am finding it difficult toconcentrate with the close proximity and the realizations buzzing in mymind. "Jareth," I begin again, "may Istay?"