AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“None,” he grunted, remembering the night, having to pull the fae boy from drowning himself in bath water. Absolutely none. It didn’t matter that she was Newt’s mother. She’d never claimed her, and Jareth was done with the woman. “And what haveyoudiscovered about the water?”
Beatrice sighed and shook her head, as though disappointed by the inquiry. “Un-magical mortals. Always believing magic can be weighed and measured on a scale, dissected on a table to bare all of its secrets. I cannot tell you the full effects of the water. I can tell you for certain, however, that with one sip of it, this kingdom will no longer have to worry about perishing as the result of the curse. You will still be beasts, though you will no longer worry about health. It might…well, it might extend the people’s lifespan by…a great deal.”
“Again, not something you can measure?”
“Again, not something I can measure.”
He nodded. “I see. It is what it is. I’m not sure everyone will be happy about drinking it now, but it will be their decision. I’ll send out messengers to all provinces.”
“Very good, my King.”
“Thank you for your time, Beatrice.”
When she left, Jareth turned just in time to see Salas drop all pretenses of proper behavior in polite company as he kicked off his shoes, drawing free the laces of his tunic and pulling the fruit tray closer to his side.
Jareth sighed, walking over to him until he was hovering by the bed. “We need to finish our earlier discussion.”
“No, we don’t. I won, remember?”
Jareth crossed his arms, keeping his lips pressed together to hide his smile of amusement. “Did you? Our memories differ, then.”
“They must. You probably have a terrible memory. Fae have very good memory. Sometimes. Some of them. I shall help you when you reach old age.”
I might not reach it, because of you.How odd.
Jareth did chuckle this time, sitting on the edge of the bed. He watched Salas for a moment, his urges itching nearly-agonizingly. Finally, he couldn't help but to grab the boy and pull him onto his lap, nestling him there and holding him close. He realized that must have been sending mixed signals to Salas, but Jareth had meant it when he had said that he would not make love to Salas now.
But he would. When Salas was ready, they could be together. Until then, they could simplybe.
Salas fidgeted, like a cat being made to hold still, though eventually relaxed against Jareth. “I can stay?” he eventually asked, perhaps unknowingly revealing his lack of ignorance on the matter.
Jareth let out a defeated breath. “Yes, you can stay. But should you ever want quarters of your own, you only need ask. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
Days later, Jareth was sitting in his throne room when he heard it. He could hear the chatter of distressed voices beyond the walls of the palace, but it was confirmed with the clacking of hooves from the great northern horses, confirming the return of Diagorian riders. Even from where he sat, he could hear the horses’ grunts coming loud and frequent, signaling that they had been running long and hard to deliver their riders home.
The doors to the throne room flew open and the great Diagorian soldiers burst in, disheveled and unkempt from a long, hazardous journey. “Your Grace!” the captain yelled. “We bring news!”
Jareth straightened calmly, regarding them carefully. These were the soldiers that he had sent to Suscon, to oversee the development of the city. The news had been lacking to the point that it concerned him. Though his outside demeanor remained calm, he felt internally nothing but dreading alarm. “What is it?”
“The country of Malthens!” the captain shouted. “They have betrayed us! They are taking Suscon for themselves!”
Chapter Thirteen
Salas switched the position of his legs, where they were crossed beneath him, and settled the storybook onto his lap. It was the second time he had read the book,The Princess and the Grasshopper, and Princess Newtalia sat across from him as he reread it aloud now. It was about a handmaid who’d shown kindness to a grasshopper, who in turn bestowed on her the gift of wealth and popularity, and she eventually married the handsome prince. Newtalia had her qualms with it, saying that the handmaid would have done better as a warrior and she should have just married her friendly street cat, yet Salas was drawn to the story in ways that he could not explain.
At first, Salas had believed that the library was a claustrophobic, dull realm of the castle, but once he discovered that the King frequented the chamber, he found himself heading towards the place more often than he would have given the original choice.
King Jareth preferred books on accounting, good stable keeping, and other topics that left Salas’ eyes drooping. Still, when he knew the man was watching, Salas would pull out one of the boring books and place himself conspicuously splayed out, spreading the dusty thing over his lap, and wait for the King to observe him. The King never failed at this. He would spot Salas, often sitting close by, and from the corner of his peripheral vision, Salas would watch as a smile would tug at his lips before he would draw his attention away to whatever text he himself had come to read. Salas would then have to sit, pretending to read, until the King eventually snapped his material shut and went away.
It was all part of the seduction process.
The idea of seducing the King had a new appeal, as it had not since Salas’ first few hours in Diagor. But even now, it was different. Funner. Warmer, even.
The smiles they shared. Jareth’s promises to him. The moments he pulled Salas to him, both possessive and gentle. All so different from the beast Salas had summed him up to be before.
He is the King, and he will be mine, Salas thought. Though often Jareth’s status dropped to the furthest thing from his mind those moments the man’s dark eyes found his, or when the King straightened, displaying the full build of his muscular form.
