"Oh, Sarah, this is simply awful."

I raked my hands for the umpteenth time through Primrose's hair, cradling her head where it was buried in my lap. Her tiny fingers were clenched tightly around a slip of paper that had been drawn from the pool of student's names just moments before. Funny thing it was, that paper. Sarah Williams herself, being mortal and beyond the reach of anyone's curious eye, would not have ever been considered for the lottery, but to be drawn was the lust of every magic student at the academy.

"I'm sure it can't be that bad," I lied dryly, while secretly thinking that Primrose wasn't nearly terrified enough. To be drawn to be the Goblin King's apprentice was the secret dread of all the students, though it was a risk obviously worth taking when apprenticeships to the great Kings and Lords were in the offering pot as well. Not to say that King Jareth wasn't adept at magic; he was as great a sorcerer as any, really. But he was the Goblin King, ruler of an extremely unruly bunch who rarely consented to his control and so he usually was forced to let them run wild. He lived in a mangy old castle in the center of an ever-shifting Labyrinth that was said to be the home of many undesirable creatures. And not only were his surroundings and subjects the epitome of undesirable, the man himself left much to be desired. He was often described as surly and childish, prone to tantrums and other fits of immaturity. And when he was poised at his very best, he was still nigh intolerable, haughty and snide. I had attended one of his lectures held in the Academy the previous winter, and though I found his approach to tangible magic (that is, turning one's magic into something that could be seen and held) very interesting, his lecture had been given in dry, disinterested tones, the kind of voice you use with a child who has gotten on your last nerve. By the end of it, most of the other students in attendance had seemed more interested in watching him manipulate his crystals than the theory behind creating them, and the whole ordeal had ended with a rather unfortunate bang that involved a student being too interested in the King's juggling skills, asking for a repeat performance, and being turned into a goblin for his audacity. He was turned back in the end, though his head was perhaps a little bigger than it had been before.

Primose wiped the back of her hand across her nose, which compelled me to give her the handkerchief from my pocket. Watching her blow her snot all over my mother's careful needlework was like letting someone drive a quill in my eye, but I was raised a lady, and forced myself to allow her to blow herself dry, and only grimaced a little when she handed it back in a sodden wad.

"Sarah, you don't understand." Primrose gave me a half condescending, half pitying look, an expression I was used to from Fae. "You never had a chance of getting your name drawn. You never had to worry about this!"

And I never got to hope, either. To be fair to all students involved, the name of every person on the Academy roster was entered in the pool at least once. Humans and other undesirables were typically entered only once, but if you were the good graces of the officers who ran the Apprenticeship Department, that would guarantee you two slips of paper with your name on them. Half-breeds were usually entered anywhere from five to twenty times, depending on who your family was and how much money you had to your name. Pure-bred Fae children were always promised forty entries in their name, and even more if they happened to display magical talent that went above and beyond expectations. At the Academy, Fae outnumbered humans and half-breeds by about twenty to one, and so a human's odds at being drawn were considered completely laughable. The skewering of the odds had always rankled me to the bone, but it was their way of keeping the deeper secrets of witchcraft within the purely magic families. Humans who displayed magical talent were good enough to be taught cleaning spells and glamour charms, but were rarely educated beyond that.

Primrose sat up, sniffling, staring at me with wide, watery eyes. Even though she was a stuck-up snob from a rich family of elves, I couldn't help feeling slightly sorry her. Prim was a fair witch who performed adequately in most branches of magic, but she was from an old family that held great influence over the Academy's financial backings, and was used to showers of praise from her teachers. King Jareth, however, had no connection to her family, nor did he bow to whims of the Academy, and should Primrose be his apprentice, her days of favouritism were certainly numbered. I shook out my handkerchief, muttered a simple cleansing charm, and handed the newly-cleaned fabric back to her. She accepted it gratefully, though this time, to my immense pleasure, she merely dabbed at her wet eyes before handing it back to me. It vanished into the safety of my pocket once more.

"I wish there was something I could do, Prim," I sighed.

"You could take my place!" I was expecting that, and felt my mouth twist wryly. Primrose, who had been staring at me hopefully, saw my expression, and dropped her eyes to the ground where we sat, legs folded under ourselves. Her tiny hands twisted in the fabric of her dress. I tried to look at those hands and envision her pulling a crystal out of the air as the King had done, but I couldn't. Instead, all I can see is her bird-like frame sagging on the ground with the King looming over her, forcing her to try again and again until her knuckles cracked and bled. But even though these images turned my stomach and disgusted me, it was either her happiness or mine. And I chose mine.

"Prim. I have Tobias to think of." That wasn't a lie; my little brother was only a couple of years younger than I was, but he was like a child in so many ways – he wouldn't last a week without me there to put his food on the table for him. Not to say that he was helpless, oh no. He was turning out to be quite a skilled young wizard, in all actuality, and I wouldn't be surprised to find that his name had been entered twice this year. He was simply used to having me around. And maybe I took care of him more than I needed to. But I couldn't help that, not since our mother and father had died.

Her bottom lip came out defiantly. "I could take care of him!"

Liar. Primrose wouldn't know what boot went on the right foot if her maids didn't hold her hand while she dressed every morning. The idea of her being Tobias's guardian frightened me more than it did comfort me. My face seemed to convey my skepticism, for she scowled and looked away. Guilt at my nastiness washed over me, but I reminded myself that Primrose was not a friend. She was an ally, a fellow outcast, but never a friend.

Humans were social pariahs by social norm; they had no connections or mystical backgrounds, and weren't going to wind up in any great place, and so were generally ignored. I had not expected any better, and was perfectly fine with my status of outcast that I acquired when I began attending the Academy. Primrose, on the other hand, had not expected such a lackluster lifestyle. As an elf from a family as old as any, she should have had the very best of friends the Academy could offer. But she was thin. She was frail. Her eyes were a shade too pale. She was afflicted with an illness that had no known cure, and no known cause. The common speculation was that she was a bastard child and, according to legend, children born out of wedlock were afflicted with the wrath of the gods. Such explanations would have been perfectly sensible to me had I been nine years old, but I was nineteen, and a little more knowledgeable now. She never offered any theories about where her weakness had come from, so I was perfectly at ease to make one up myself, and was satisfied with my own explanation of a rare illness that afflicted only elves.

We had been drawn together by our similar positions in Academic life, but we were friends in the way Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin had been friends (there was an optional course at the Academy that delved into Aboveground history, which I found quite fascinating). We helped each other fight our battles against mutual enemies, but when the going got tough, favors were not to be expected. We were only partners so long as there was a common enemy to unite us. We had an understanding, and I appreciated her greatly, but not enough to take her place as King Jareth's apprentice. She seemed to sense this, for she did not attempt to convince me again.

Our temporary silence was broken by the pealing of the lunch bell. The Fae students began to migrate towards the dining hall, where they would feast on magnificent fares brought in by the latest hunting patrol. Even Primrose got up to follow, though she was not exclusively welcome; she didn't like me enough to tolerate my cooking, nor did she harbor any fondness for Tobias, and so preferred to eat with the rest of the aristocrats, even if it meant dining in solitude. I was never hurt by this; it was to be expected. And today, I relished our parting, for it meant that I could get away from her sullen attitude and relax for a few hours in my own home without worrying about keeping up appearances.

I got home first, as usual. Master Howell looked up sharply from his writing desk when I walked in, offered me his usual thin smile, and returned to his work. He was one of the stable masters of the area, though in his old age, was usually only called upon when a horse was sick or injured, or whenever the experience or wisdom of the elderly was needed. Though he had taken in Tobias and I when our parents had died, he was never "father" or any other affectionate nickname. He was Master Howell, and we always addressed him as such.

"Good afternoon, Master Howell."

He gave a noncommittal grunt and gestured to the table, where a loaf of bread sat next to a tub of butter and a slab of cheese. Meat was rare, and something served only at dinner time, so bread and butter was our usual for breakfast and lunch. The cheese was new, though, and had Master Howell been a more talkative man, I would have asked him how he got it. But he was not, so I kept my mouth shut and busied myself with pulling three plates from the cupboard – I would have gotten four, but the chunk of bread missing from the loaf told me that the Master had already had his share.

I was slicing the bread carefully into three equal portions when the door opened, and Tobias bounded in, filled with energy as usual. Gabriel followed more slowly. They both paused to greet the Master who waved them away as he had done to me, and the three of us took our usual places at the table, with me handing them the bread I had sliced before passing around the butter. Toby regarded the cheese with an expression akin to awe before turning to Master Howell.

"Master Howell, how did you get this?" The older man looked up from his desk to see Toby waving the cheese around. He sniffed and straightened his glasses, which had been perched precariously on the edge of his nose.

"Traded for it, obviously, you stupid boy."

Had he called Primrose stupid, she would have burst into tears and promptly fled, but we had been dealing with the Master's less than pleasant demeanor for over a decade. He never meant to insult, he merely wished to be left alone. Toby took the hint and, though looking disappointed, stopped waving the cheese and tore off a hunk of it instead, handing it off the Gabe, who took his share before leaving me with the rest.

Gabriel was the Master's son. He had no mother, who had been killed the same night as my parents. He was dark-skinned, dark-haired, and what most would call handsome, but he was not attractive to me in that way. We had lived together. He was as much my brother as Tobias was. He had seen me naked, and we slept in the same bed. To think of him romantically would be practically incestuous, and I know he viewed me in the same light. Being the Master's child gave him a slight leg up on other humans such as myself, and he was allowed to attend a school in the Academy that specialized in specific brands of magic. Another helping factor may have been that he was a man, and men, naturally, always had better chance at everything than women. Even Tobias had more options than I did, despite that he was younger. I could have been bitter about it, but what would that change? I had no right to be bitter towards Gabe – he was an amazing young man who consented to share his father with me so soon after losing his mother, and loved me enough to be my brother. Not to mention that he walked home with Tobias every single day. I didn't need some declaration of love to know that he was devoted to me. He saw himself as my brother, and that was enough.

"I heard Primrose got old Goblin Pants."

I grinned wryly in response – King Jareth, due to his vicious nature, earned himself a wide variety of equally vicious nicknames, "Goblin Pants" being one of the kinder ones. "Yes, she did."

Gabe and Tobias snickered. They weren't fond of Prim, and never had to pretend to be like I did to survive. "Don't," I snapped. "You wouldn't think it so funny if it had been your name drawn."

"Oh, don't act so noble," Toby choked out, spewing out a mouthful of bread. "Don't pretend you actually care about her."

"Don't talk with your mouth full."

Chewing on his bread with a thoughtful air, Gabe swallowed and regarded me slyly. "Bet she asked you to take her place."

I huffed. "How ever did you guess?"

"Sixth sense." He tore his bread in half so he could eat it neatly. Toby was not so well-mannered, and tore enthusiastically into his, reemerging only to wipe the crumbs from his face. Gabriel looked on in amusement. "So, what'd you say?"

"No, obviously." I nibbled the corner of my bread. "Better her than me."

He nodded in response. Toby, on the other hand, looked thoughtful. "I think goblins are kind of cool."

My nose wrinkled. "They aren't. They're dirty, foul, disgusting-"

"-strong, clever, and incredibly hard to kill."

Master Howell sat down at the other end of the table opposite of Gabriel. He reached over to my plate and broke off a piece of my cheese. I protested half-heartedly, but only for the sake of protesting – I wouldn't have eaten it all anyways.

"King Jareth isn't the most likable of persons, but he is an incredible wizard." He gave me a sharp look over the rims of his glasses. "You should have told the brat yes."

I shifted uncomfortably. Master Howell didn't make speeches like this often, so whenever he spoke, his words were worth listening to. Perhaps to spare my feelings, Gabriel fabricated some excuse about having to leave early, and Toby willingly followed him out the door, leaving their lunches half-eaten. I know he had my best interests at heart, but I found myself wishing they had stayed - Master Howell's disproval was suffocating. He took off his glass to polish them against his tunic, but the fabric was dirty and not remotely capable of cleaning anything, so I suspected he was doing it to buy him time.

"I never worry about Gabriel or Tobias," he said quietly. "They are men, and they will always have more opportunity. Their future is fairly secure, so long as they continue to display cleverness and magical talent. Even if they cannot win an apprenticeship through the lottery, there will always be someone willing to tutor them."

I nodded. What he said was true; apprenticeships themselves were not rare. It was the contracts with the Lords and the Kings that were so sought after. But one could easily find a mentor in the local wizard or, more rarely, a witch. Most times, Fae children who were not granted their wish in the lottery were given first choice to the area's available magicians, but occasionally a human would snap up the spot. Gabe and Toby were strong enough and smart enough to contend even with the Fae. Had I been male, I would have been right there with them. But I wasn't.

"So…I should take Prim's place?" I hated the very idea of spending my apprenticeship in a castle filled with monsters, having to bow to the whims of their childish King. But Master Howell had done so much for my brother and I, and his words always had value; if he told me to get on my knees and lick the dirt from the floor, I'd gladly do so.

He regarded me calmly. "You should take opportunities when they present themselves to you. It may not be the most desirable or easiest path, but it will lead to a successful life, if you are willing to sacrifice a few comforts to achieve it."

His words rang in my ears as I trudged back up to the Academy grounds by myself, the leftover bread and cheese wrapped in a cloth in my hands, which I would deliver to Toby and Gabe. I was to wait and see how Prim's apprenticeship played out. If it was disastrous and she was ousted from her contract (a high dishonor, one that I doubt her family would never allow), I would volunteer to take her place. Seeing as how a contract had never been broken for longer than I had been alive, I felt relatively safe. I knew Master Howell had wanted me to take the position immediately, but I had not settled for that. As wise and sensible as he was, his words had my pride to contend with. Give me one more year, Master, I had said. I promise I'll find something. I couldn't accept that, as a woman, my chances of finding a mentor were dwindling with every year that passed.

The courtyard was still relatively empty, as a half hour remained before classes were to begin again for the afternoon. I had been aiming to sit on the edge of the fountain and perhaps steal the remaining slice of Gabe's bread, but something else caught my eye.

"…merely curious, Headmaster."

"Nothing to be curious about, really, Your Majesty, trades happen all the time."

That was Master Hale's voice, the Headmaster at the Academy. He was usually quite sunny and cheerful, and so his dry, impatient tones struck me as odd. His strained response was answered with a humorless laugh that set the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.

"Don't lie to me. Who would possibly volunteer for me?"

Ladies didn't spy or eavesdrop, I know. But I had spent the better half of my life with all men, so I think I was allotted a few flaws in my manners. I ducked behind a nearby pillar to get closer to the conversation, and in doing so, ran right into Gabriel. He was alone.

"Where's Toby?" I hissed. He shrugged in response and turned his attention back to the two men speaking. But they must have been walking while they were speaking; their voices were getting farther away. Gabe and I both moved at once to follow them, but before we could move an inch, and earsplitting yell had us both jumping out of our skins.

"Sarah! Gabe!"

Tobias was sprinting towards us with a triumphant grin. "I've done it!"

I blinked, drawing up blank. Had he gotten the highest score on an exam? "Done what?"

Gabriel was looking nervously over his shoulder, and so I looked too and felt my stomach drop out beneath me; the pair had doubled back at the commotion and were standing behind us. The man on the left was the Headmaster, and he was a short, fat, dark-haired, and generally good-humored. Now, however, he looked slightly angry. On the right was a tall, lean man dressed head to toe in black. Wild blond hair framed a face that would have snared many women had he had a personality to match his beauty. The comical aspect of these two men, fat and thin, standing next to each other was not lost on me, but I could not bring myself to crack a smile. An insistent tugging on my sleeve made me look away. Toby was grinning up at me.

"I went into the Apprentice Department and Primrose was there! And I knew that you didn't want to do it, so I did!"

The only thing that kept me from falling to the ground was Gabe's iron-like grip on my shoulder. Toby seemed to sense something in our expressions, for his smile faltered. "What's wrong?"

Someone brushed by me. It was him. He walked by me and Gabriel without a single glance in our direction to loom menacingly over my brother, who had completely forgone his elation in favor of fear, if his pale face and wide eyes were anything to go by. And though Toby was actually taller than me now, he still looked so small compared to him, and I wanted to go to his defense, to push him behind my body, anything that shielded him from the penetrating, cold gaze.

"Who are you, boy?"

Toby was afraid, but afraid enough. His hands went to his hips and he lifted his chin defiantly. Had it been me, I would have been a cowering bundle of nerves. "Tobias."

The golden head cocked to one side. "And do you know who I am?"

He nodded tersely. "You're him. The Goblin King."