"Excuse me, where are you taking my daughter?"

An older man wearing an elaborate dark green jacket spoke up, his brow creased with worry.

"I am afraid that, while you daughter was resting in an alcove during the attack, she is still a suspect, Lord Propar," Jareth told him in a respectful tone. While it might have had a hint of haughtiness added to it before, now he was just a Lord like the other man, not Goblin King, and had to address him as such.

"But she took ill so suddenly earlier in the evening, soon after we arrived! She should be resting, not undergoing interro--"

"Father," came a sudden, lilting voice. "It's all right."

"Philoma, darling?"

The lovely woman turned to the royals and curtsied, perhaps not as deeply as she could have, as she was still a bit unsteady on her feet. "Forgive my father, Your Majesties, he's just worried about my health... But I agree that getting to the bottom of this matter is of the utmost importance... for everyone's sake."

Her eyes glanced at Jareth briefly, then demurely turned away. Turning to the guard at her side, she nodded, and allowed him to lead her away.

Emilie caught a glimpse of Lady Philoma's sister standing nearby, looking torn. She thought she could understand; Philoma still looked pale, and her sister must be wanting to be with her, but could not because of the interrogation that was soon to occur.

Sighing so slightly that only those nearest to her could tell, the Goblin Queen rose from her seat and, accompanied by two bodyguards, made her way to the room along with the other royals.