Isolde let out a weary sigh, her feet dragging as she followed Farkas down the long, silent corridor. The house was cold and still, the predawn darkness clinging to every corner. Ahead, in the faint light filtering from a distant window, she saw him. Jareth.
He was already awake, perched on a low stool with his legs stretched out. He didn't turn as they approached, but Isolde knew he was aware of her presence.
He always was.
Farkas bowed and retreated, leaving her to face Jareth alone. Isolde's heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She took a tentative step forward.
"Hello," she managed, her voice barely a whisper.
Jareth's loud hiss restrained her and made her stop.
"Don't come close to me." He muttered lowly but audibly enough for her.
Her body ran cold. She could feel the anger in his irritated voice. Something was definitely wrong?
"Is something wrong?" She managed trying to sound confident.
Her shaky voice and raspy breathing betrayed her emotions.
