Lirael turned her face away when he leaned in close, her confidence completely drained. She broke step, nearly stumbling over her own feet as she leaned away. She suddenly felt very young, like a child playing dress-up in her aunt's clothes. Here she was, Lirael the wannabe Clayr, in yet another situation for which she was ill-prepared. At least she had experience in biting off more than she could chew.
"I would not dare ask that of Your Majesty," she said, her speech more formal than it had ever been addressing Jareth. "And please, Your Majesty, a lady cannot speak of such things in mixed company." Lirael would have trouble speaking of such things were she the only one in the room. She didn't meet his gaze.