In the Eyes of the Queen [ Labyrinth ] ✔

Chapter Seventeen

When he is in thought it is more often than not too difficult to discern his mood. I have realized over the course of my stay here, though, that contrary to my initial assumption, the Goblin King does not mask his emotions. He is, after all, the king. He has no need to hide the fact that he is irritated, angry, disappointed, happy, proud, or self-assured as the case may be. As a refined individual he is, of course, in control of his expressions when he wants or needs to be, but he usually has no reason to hide them. This calls to my forethought several issues.

There are several important conversational topics which we have successfully avoided. They are all interrelated. None of them are safe, but I choose the one that is the least dangerous.

Rising from my—his—chair, I wander to the window and observe the Labyrinth and the twisted, ever-changing glory of its plethora of environs. Apparently, I have stood here gazing out for longer than intended, because Jareth's voice breaks me from my reverie.

"Do you grow bored of looking out?"

I pause a moment, reflecting. "Bored? What a funny concept, to grow bored of something ever-changing. Well, funny for a human at least."

I turn fully toward the window, take a step forward and lean against the sill, drinking in the sight I could stare at all day and trying to ignore the closeness to Jareth that my actions produce.

"I could never grow bored of it. In fact, I have to resist the urge to go lose myself in it."

After another moment of staring at the beauty of the Labyrinth, I become aware of Jareth's eyes trained on me and have to exert self-control in order to avoid squirming under his gaze. His look is knowing, and that thought brings back a momentary memory of a distant dream.

"Why do you stare at him with that knowing look, Sarah?"

"What are you talking about, Hoggle?"

"You look at him like you know something he doesn't know."

"Well, I suppose I do."

I startle as I feel an arm snake around my waist possessively. Jareth pulls me into an awkward embrace and I feel Hoggle's presence disappear.

He leans down and whispers in my ear, "What do you know that I don't, and how do you know it?"

I laugh airily. He is answering the first question himself. "Woman's intuition," I answer the second.

"And the answer to the first question?"

"You have already answered it," I admit.

Jareth growls. "I'll beat the answer out of you if I have to, Sarah." It is lighthearted, so I do not fear.

I release a laugh through my nose. "More likely to kiss it out of me."

Surprised, his grip on me loosens. "What?"

"And that's all the answer you're going to get!" I snake out of his slack arms and skip backward and out of his view.

A hand on my shoulder startles me from remembrance. I did not even notice Jareth move. I do not look at him, but innately know that he is looking at me with questioning amusement in his eyes.

The sun is setting, bathing everything in red and gold. It is breathtakingly beautiful and so I find myself once again distracted.

"Tomorrow will be a long day, princess, so perhaps you should retire?" He phrases it as a question or suggestion and not an order, and I appreciate that. I ignore the pet name.

Obligingly, I set out for the bedroom. After a characteristically long bath, I risk Jareth's wrath and sneak into his wardrobe to steal another shirt, black this time. I am about to habitually fall into the empty bed when I realize I never addressed any of the needed conversational topics, not even the least dangerous one. They can all wait, I suppose. The others can wait until my return if need be, but that one will need to be addressed before I return to the human world, or at least before I contact anyone there.

Perhaps I can gradually broach the topic. Or accustom Jareth—and myself—to the idea I have settled on. With foolish determination, I return to the study where I know Jareth has remained.

"Are you coming to bed?"

If my life was more of a comedy—and Jareth was not the ever-graceful Goblin King—I might expect a spit-take, if Jareth had a beverage in hand. When I planted a kiss on his cheek the night he returned I ran away without waiting to ascertain his surprise. Even so, I am sure the surprise then cannot hold a candle to the expression he now openly wears. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from releasing a laugh that is inexplicably forming in my throat.

Gaining control of my faculties, I am proud to say, before Jareth does, I roll my eyes and clarify, "Not that way."

If Goblin Kings can blush, or perhaps flush, then Jareth is doing so now, though barely.

I explain myself. "I cannot in good conscience steal your bed, and yet you have made it perfectly clear you will allow me to sleep nowhere else. Therefore the only remaining solution is to share."

I know I will win this argument easily, if it even is an argument, but I hope he does not turn it into a game, forcing me to resort to more drastic measures to 'convince' him. We have to act at least congenial toward each other if my plan is to succeed and neither stubbornness nor awkwardness will help.

He does not answer by word, but by action. With poise only possible from Jareth, hestands. After he passes me in thedoorway with nonchalance, I let show my smirk to rival a Goblin King's. I follow a pace behind and proceed to ignorehis presence for the sake of my sanity. Falling onto the bed as is my tradition, I curl into a ball in his blackshirt, squeeze my eyes closed, and try to stop the function of my ears,chanting to myself that this is all for the sake of my plan while an underlyingtrain of thought tries to make me admit that I like it.