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183 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 1985
Sarah had almost no physical traits in common with her father, taking almost entirely after the absent mother in the newspaper clippings. She had Linda’s long, thick, straight brown-black hair, which the girl usually wore down and pinned out of her face with a barrette. Sarah’s eyes were olive-green, fringed in smoky lashes; she had a few freckles across her long nose, and got flushed easily. A tall lass, she still sometimes tripped on her own long legs. Jareth thought she looked like a dryad and couldn’t wait for the opportunity to tell her so.
The man calling himself the Goblin King could have sprung from a Walter Crane or Edmund Dulac illustration. He was tall and graceful, lithe and strong but far from bulky, with ivory skin, sharp cheekbones, and a thin, aristocratic nose. From across the room, he had appeared to have mismatched eyes beneath the dramatic kohl wings, one blue and one brown; now she could see that the “brown” eye was really blue, but had a perpetually dilated pupil that made it look dark. His upper lip was thin and his lower lip full, twisted in a luxuriant smirk. His face was framed in thick reddish-blond hair, long and jaggedly cut. It was a strange face, not handsome in the traditional sense, but she couldn’t stop staring at him, and she fought the fascination growing inside her. He might look like every fictional hero she had daydreamed of, but he was still an enemy.












"Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City, to take back the child that you have stolen."






It was junk like everything else there, the litter of a time of her life that she now passionately wanted to leave behind. She knew what the gray despair had been. This room was a prison, and she was her own jailer. And so she had the key to release herself, to go and do the thing that mattered.
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“It pleased him to think of his Labyrinth as a board game; if you got too close to the winning square, you might find a snake taking you back to the start. No one had, and very few had gotten as far as this disturbing girl, who was too old to be turned into a goblin. Jareth examined her face in his crystal. Too old to be a goblin, but too young to be kept by him.”

Her dizziness ceased when she went spinning around the ballroom in Jareth’s arms. She was the loveliest woman at the ball. She knew it, from the way in which Jareth was smiling down at her. All his attention was on her. The touch of his hands on her body was thrilling. To dance with him seemed the easiest and most natural motion. When he told her that she was beautiful, she felt confused.
“I feel. . . I feel like. . . I—don’t know what I feel.”
He was amused. “Don’t you?”
“I feel like. . . I’m in a dream, but I don’t remember ever dreaming anything like this!”
“She smiled up at him. She thought how handsome he was, but one didn’t tell a man such things, did one? ”

“You are frightened, Jareth.”
“So are you.”
“Yes.”
For a few seconds, they were watching each other’s eyes.
Then Jareth began to move, all over the seven perspectives, and Sarah watched him as he moved. He seemed to walk along ceilings and climb descending stairs. He danced on high walls. And as he moved he called to her. “You are cruel, Sarah. We are well matched, you and I. I need your cruelty, just as you need mine.”



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