"Yes, Damion?" she managed to say with forced politeness.

"Your Highness, I have a few things to discuss with you," he said, his high- pitched voice quivering nervously.

"Certainly, Damion," she replied as she put her hand on his shoulder. It was in such situations that her skills as an actress saved her from mental breakdown. "But, would you mind telling me these things as I travel to my room? I am getting ready for a short nap."

"Oh, yes," he said, flushing red from embarrassment. Sarah wasn't sure if his discomfort stemmed from her allowing him to follow her into her bedroom, or his intrusion upon her rest. "I just felt that I should bring some matters to your attention... I am sorry if I am interrupting your rest."

"Oh, really, I don't mind, just please make it as brief as possible. I apologize if it seems a bit selfish to you, but I would like to relax a little for the next two weeks.... I don't want to be short with you, I am just tired."

"Oh, of course, you must be." He walked with her and fidgeted with the papers in his hand, as if he was battling with the need to be polite and the need to show the papers to her. "If I may..."

"Yes, certainly," she said, realizing the weary tone in her voice. As they traveled, she stared at the wall opposite Damion, and seemed not to hear him.

"Well, first, the weaver's guild is desperate for a new loom for their display tomorrow. It seems that one of the younger members broke the one they had, and they were wanting to borrow some funds from the treasury to purchase one."

"Yes," Sarah said absentmindedly, "yes, certainly, tell them that they may borrow the necessary funds." She forced herself to focus as her bedroom door came into view. "Make it clear that profits from their booth sales at the festival may first go to pay any other bills, but must then begin to be used, even if only fractionally, to pay the treasury back. I don't mind loaning the money, for I know they are honest, but our funds are already low from the renovations on the Labyrinth."

"I have made note of it," he replied as he scribbled something on the paper. "Oh, and while I am speaking of the booths, there is a fellow who has just come in town who wants to know if he may set a booth up at the festival."

Sarah frowned. "I don't know... It is awful late. What type creature is he?'

"He is human, your majesty."

Sarah sighed, and felt compelled to submit, just to get it off her shoulders. "What type of booth is it?"

"He is an artist."

They reached the door, and Sarah put her hand on the handle. An artist, she thought. That is very intriguing. Yet, practicality comes before intrigue. "Is he prepared to pay the fee?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. He seems to be quite a nice fellow... If it were me, I would have no qualms about admitting him."

Sarah lowered her head and considered the matter for a moment. As she did, Damion ruffled the papers with his stubby, fuzzy fingers. She finally looked up at him. "Yes, I suppose so. I don't really see any harm in it. Just make sure there's room, first."

Sarah opened the door to her room, looking at Damion for another comment. All she could think of doing was dropping into bed for infinity.... The midnight oil had burned to mere fumes the evening before, for she had been preparing for the day's meeting and other various things involved with the festival till the wee hours of morning. With a languid gaze she turned into her room. What awaited her brought forth a gasp from her lips.

Damion continued talking business, but Sarah did not hear him. Throughout her room, crowding every tabletop, every dresser, every desk, even the floor, were half a hundred vases of flowers. Sweet perfumes replaced the air, intoxicating and mystical. Sarah stumbled into the candelit room, her face drawn in shock.

"Your majesty, as I was saying--" Damion stopped short when he entered the room. His mouth stood ajar, as well, and he had stopped his agitated movement of the papers.

Many feelings rushed upon her at once. Timeless days of rolling about her bed restlessly as she imagined the knights who would kill dragons for her; hours of reading D.H. Lawrence novels at the nook in the poplar tree; the long, exulting gazes at the handsome, quiet boy in her science class. Then she saw her perilous journeys into the Underground, the menacing and resplendent looks of Jareth, the city that had become hers, the fantasy that had come from something other than the reading of fairytales. Oh, how many times she had been told that she needed to get her head out of the clouds!! How many times she had heard the words, "Life is not a fairytale, Sarah, so stop treating it like one." Just as she had started believing it, she had become queen of Sunset City. Never in her four years as ruler had she thought things could get any better. The sight of the flowers assured her that they could.

Sarah finally found her voice. "Sage!! It must be!! But where did he get all of these beautiful flowers?" She pulled back the curtain of her bed, and found her velvet blankets laden with rose petals of all colors. "Oh, good God, a bed of roses!! You would think he was courting me!"

The bird-like young man seemed to be uncomfortable about being present during this odd behavior on the part of his queen. "Would you like me to get him?" he said, obviously trying to escape the strangeness of the situation.

Sarah bolted upright and smiled at him. "Oh, I would so much like to talk to him, but I doubt he's anywhere around..." She gave another wondering gaze about her room and continued in a quiet voice, as if she were speaking to herself, "He's sure to be very far away from here, I can guarantee it. Sage knows the meaning of a hasty retreat." Abruptly, Sarah remembered the presence of her council-member and said, "No, don't trouble yourself over it. You may go, if that is all..."

He drew the papers to his chest, staring oddly at her over his spectacles. "Yes, I think I will... I will discuss the other things with you after dinner."

"Yes, that would be great. I will be more refreshed by then."

Without any other words, Damion bowed and exited the chamber, closing the door behind himself a bit too hurriedly. Sarah followed his movement dumbly, then let her eyes drift about the room and its sunflowers, azaleas, roses, tulips, snapdragons, baby's breath, and other various exotic blooms. If Sage was behind all of this, she might be inclined to believe that he was desperately in love with her. What a strange thought!! And, if it wasn't Sage, who in the world could it be?