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He wondered if she had ever run to mother with such issues, if these things had once been shared between them. Had Salas helped rob this girl of a mother?
But Newt never mentioned her, never seemed upset by her absence. Whenever she looked for guidance in such ways, he had noted that she looked to him as well as the other birds.
The King, Salas believed, noticed as well.
Any resentment for Victoria’s banishment ebbed.
He thought about his own outfit, and how it had been structured with compromise, taking into account how he would like to wear it and how the customs of Diagor allow it to be worn. There was a balance to it. Perhaps there was one here as well.
Telling Newt to wait a moment, he sat down at the table and pulled a candlestick closer to him as he studied the structure at the rear of the earrings. Removing the closures, he used his fingers to bend the gold-painted copper into a more circular shape.
Motioning Newt forward, he secured the earrings to her ears, so that the pearls were clasped to her earlobes instead of piercing through, and allowed her to take a look at herself in the mirror.
She clasped the shells of her ears tenderly, grinning widely, tears forgotten.
Salas smiled back.
He hadn’t realized how rewarding it could be to tend to someone in this way. He was usually the one being tended to, and he’d always been a bit confused by the smiles on their faces as palace birds had helped him. He hadn’t realized how rewarding it could be.
“Salas,” Newt chirped, pulling him closer to the door, “Listen.”
Salas listened, and sure enough, he could hear the beginnings of a band starting their symphony that would move the night into dance. His heartbeat sped automatically. The drums and brass of the instruments sounded heavier than what he was used to, yet the intent was still the same.
And suddenly Salas felt as though he was not ready for it. Even though he had called for a celebration to take place, the strange unnerving sense that he’d been through this reality before persisted inside of him.
Newt pulled him out the door, and then he was being led to where the party was commencing in the mess hall.
Townsfolk and palace staff danced alike with officials and courtesans, dressed up in their embroidered finery. The Susconians, who most had once been palace birds, were dressed up as well, already laughing and spilling drinks, whispering and pointing to prospective dance partners that they were perhaps too shy to approach. The Diagorians swept up the had-been birds with playful grace, spinning them into waltzes and bowing deeply whenever approaching, as though to prove that they could make themselves smaller for the tinier people whom they were now courting.
Immediately upon entrance, Newt ran off to the display of cakes and pastries and he doubted he would be seeing her for some time.
Salas spotted Lio dancing with Tarick, which was a new development. When the song changed, Tarick reached to whisper something into the smaller man’s ear and went off towards the refreshment table to gather drinks for his dance partner.
Before he could return. Salas reached to grab Lio by the wrist and pull him off the dance floor.
“What are you doing?” Salas hissed, throwing a look to the large, ditched Diagorian on the dance floor, who rolled his eyes with humor once he spotted Salas.
“Dancing with Tarick!” Lio whispered enthusiastically, as though he had been caught doing something scandalous. “Isn’t he handsome?”
Salas considered this. “He’s…adequate,” he muttered eventually. “Just don’t let him make you wear any pelts.”
“Pelts?”
Before Salas could answer, Tarick approached with a grin, passing a drink to Lio upon his approach. “Why Salas, don’t you look lovely this evening? Isn’t he lovely, Your Grace?”
“He is.”
The voice came from behind him, and he turned to see the King standing there, towering over him in all the domineering loftiness that he was. He was adorned in black leathers, though in a red, embroidered tunic that was trimmed in the same fabric that he also wore.
His heart fluttered upon seeing it.
His mind flashed back to his favorite reading material, the picture book. The last spread of the book ended in a colorful depiction of the prince and princess in the center of a parade, matched in concordant outfits of blue and gold, complementing each other.
Salas felt that way now: like he was corresponding with something greater than him, and because he was allowed to match, he was somehow important as well. It was as though being on the arm of the King, in matching clothes, he was Great, too.
Salas swallowed and bowed a bit, a graceful dip, and King Jareth surprised him by returning the gesture, dipping his head, his eyes never leaving Salas as they swept over him, taking in Salas and his attire in its entirety. Even from a bit of a distance, Salas could see the strong Adam's apple bob in his throat as he swallowed.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Tarick spoke up, and Salas had nearly forgotten that Lio and Tarick were still there. Not for long,though, as Tarick was already grabbing Lio around the waist in a not-so-subtle gesture of ownership, sweeping the smaller man away. “I owe this one another dance.”
