Calm

"Calm yourself, Sarah."

"I am calm!" Okay, I wasn't exactly calm.

Jareth, quite reasonably, arched an ironic eyebrow.

I still wanted to smack him. "The point is that you left our son in the care of your idiot subjects. And he almost died."

"Don't you think that's a bit of an exaggeration?"

"Let me think — I just found our son perched on the edge of the parapet of the highest tower in the entire castle. With no one holding him. Above a sheer drop of God only knows how many feet. Which surely, without a doubt, absolutely guaranteed, would kill him if he lost his balance and fell. Which he is prone to do because he's only barely capable of sitting up by himself." My glare could have burned through steel. "So no, not an exaggeration. What the hell, Jareth."

Jareth looked at me for a long heartbeat, and then dropped Feanor from his arms.

I screamed and lunged forward to catch my baby son.

But he didn't, in fact, fall. Instead, Feanor bobbled gently in the air as if he were a soap bubble in a breeze, laughing as he tried to catch his father's hand.

Jareth arched that ironic eyebrow of his again.

And I still wanted to smack him. But...okay. I took a long, slow breath and closed my eyes, willing the adrenaline to leave my system.

Jareth clucked his tongue at me. "Where is your trust?"

Breathe in, breathe out, do not smack your Faerie Lord husband...

A surprisingly gentle hand brushed along my cheek. "He's our firstborn child, Sarah. Surely you know I'd protect him."

I leaned into his hand, the tension draining out of me. "I know in my head. But my maternal instincts apparently trust no one."

He pulled Feanor between us, still bobbing merrily in the air, and wrapped us both in his arms. "They are excellent instincts. Especially with my side of the family around."

I sighed into the length of him, solid and strong and lithe as a sword blade. He would cheerfully murder anyone who hurt a golden cornsilk hair on Feanor's tiny head. I knew that. Jareth had in fact demonstrated so just last week on an enterprising assassin nursemaid hired by….well, we weren't entirely sure yet, but it was probably in the family. His side of the family was like that. "I don't know how any of you survived to adulthood."

He stroked my hair, and kissed me. "Excellent instincts."

I kissed him right back, melting into the familiar taste of him, like spiced vanilla, heady and rich. Mmm. And then Feanor reminded us both he was still there by letting out a loud — though joyous — shriek and pulling heartily on my hair.

Jareth's eyebrow went up again, though his smile was down right devilish. "To be continued, perhaps after some small boy's bedtime?"

"My excellent instincts are telling me that's an excellent idea."

"Splendid."