Chapter 11

Cypress threw his hands forward beseechingly, stepping over the sunflower seedbed his parents were lounging on. It lacked petals, as it was situated within their private chambers in the tree they used as their ‘castle.'

"There must be something we can do," Cypress implored, his crown tilting on his head as he shook it. "I can't wait until the end of winter. He might be dead by then!"

The urge to swear, to throw a fit right there and then, was overwhelming, but it wouldn't aid him if he did so. His parents, the king and queen, wouldn't approve. They would do less than the nothing they were already doing as a way to punish him.

Sometimes being bound by the constraints of what he was could be absolutely aggravating.

"I'm sorry, my son," his mother said, then yawned, her eyes drooping as though she might fall back asleep at any moment. Her face was wrinkled with age, but her orange eyes always seemed to glow with beauty, almost as if she held the sun in them. It was no wonder his father had fallen for her. "But the kingdom is in hibernation. There's no one who can resist the slumber once they've started it."

Cypress pressed his fingertips to his forehead. Then he pressed them into his eyes, unsure of how to get the help he needed.

Once the frost began to stick, all the flower fairies went into hibernation until winter ended. The moment they curled themselves in their homes and used their magic to keep them warm and unfrozen from the ice, they were lulled to sleep. It was near impossible to wake them, and keeping them awake was an even bigger headache.

Even now, after yelling for his parents to awaken, his father, who had opened his eyes to grunt at him in annoyance, had already fallen asleep. With his mouth wide open, he snored loudly. His straight and well-kept beard draped around his throat, he lay on his back with his arms and legs sprawled like a star.

"But I have to find him, mother." When her eyes began to shut, he yelled, "Mother!" They opened once more. "Please, I need your advice."

She rubbed at her tanned cheek, the colour of her skin matching his own. Her hair was black whereas Cypress got his hazelnut colour from his father.

"There is nothing you can do but wait for winter to end and hope that he survives." Then her features softened as a motherly hint of concern filled her expression. "I know you said that he is the one you wish to marry, but it's in the fates' hands now. Perhaps he was not meant to be the one."

Cypress couldn't accept that kind of answer.

"Force the animal sprites to help!"

"We don't rule over them, my son. You know we can't do anything but help them during the seasons." She sighed and leaned on her elbow as though she was about to lie back down. "And if you're right and he was kidnapped like you think he was, then it's probably one of them that took him in the first place."

"Then I will go out and look for him myself."

He currently had a handful of royal guards searching, but it wasn't enough. They were out searching in his stead, while he was being forced to stay behind by the command of his parents.

"You better not!" she yelled, momentarily alert. "The blizzards have started. Flower fairies that go out when it snows die, and you are the heir to our throne! You will not leave the safety of the kingdom, and that is an order, Cypress."

His face hardened as he and his mother shared a glare at each other.

"You will give me your word." His face tightened even further, twitching as though he wanted to sneer. Her arm shook, about to collapse back to her seedbed. "Give me your word, Cypress."

As he continued to say nothing, her eyes rolled back before her lids eventually shut. No longer breaking her trance with his voice, his silence forced her back into her hibernation.

His mother fell back to sleep without his promise of safety.

He turned away from the bed his parents were sharing and shoved open the petal door to their chamber so he could leave. The heat from their magic dust gave way to the blistering cold that greeted him in the hollow wooden hallway.

Thankfully, his parents' sleeping flower was situated within the very bottom of the tree, leaving them fully insulated from any frost. His own would have been next to theirs for the ultimate protection from the snow.

Instead, he flapped his wings in irritation, making red dust cascade off them as he walked down the hallway.

At the top of the tree, a small knot of wood opened up to one of the many branches the fairies occupied around the fairy court meadow.

Usually, the tree would be filled with glittering, multi-coloured lights from their wings. Music, chatter, and festivities would have brought sound and wonder. Normally filled with welcoming warmth and magical beauty – with anyone being allowed to visit – the area was barren.

He was one of the few who were awake, after all.

All the other fairies were nestled inside their homes, waiting for when the changing flora of the world would be in motion once more. They hibernated in winter, since there was little use for them. Once spring's sunlight touched the ice, they would break from their sleep magic and pop out of the snow like daisies.

His feet echoing in the empty hall, he found his room not far from his parents' chambers. It was one of the closer rooms to the private court hall – a place he hated.

He had responsibilities and duties to perform as the prince. He would have been more content with this if he didn't have to hide his personality, especially amongst the other fairies who flittered inside the court. If he could've just completed his duties without having to satisfy the court, he would have been much happier.

Instead, he was trained to always remain calm, to never talk out of line or be rude. He had to be the gentle prince, not the rough man who secretly called from within.

If his parents ever discovered his many exploits, they'd be horrified. The fights he'd gotten into while wearing a shroud, the sexual escapades he'd initiated with both men and women. The one time he'd gotten so drunk on nectar mead and found himself awake on a tree branch butt naked.

They'd be mortified if they learnt any of this.

They knew him to be their perfect heir, who occasionally lost his temper with them when he didn't get his way, but nothing much more drastic than that. They'd shoved him into a box of expectations that he was dying to escape.

He slammed through the petal flap door of his bedroom and ripped his crown from his head. He threw it onto the stand just so he could run his fingers freely through his hair.

Where are you, Sorrel? Where was his bright speck of fucking sunshine just when he'd found one?

He needed the one person who had made him feel more alive in the few hours he'd spent with him than he had over the years he'd lived. Who had made him laugh more than ever before in the three months of autumn he'd watched him from afar. The person whose sweet smile up close and directed at Cypress had stolen his heart, while the wicked, teasing glint in his icy-blue eyes made his cock hard.

He took in his sparsely decorated room with a hollowness.

His bed, made from a walnut – with cotton for a mattress and a green blanket – was pushed up against the very middle of the back wall. A writing desk, which someone had carved eons before he was born, stood to the side with a chair in front of it.

There was a vanity mirror, a wardrobe filled with his clothes, and a chair in which he could rest. Other than that, there was very little else in this room. It was bare since he preferred to be outside where he could be free and explore.

For most of his adult life, Cypress had been chasing after secret excitements because nothing satisfied him. Just one night with Sorrel had him feeling at ease.

Dancing with him while they fought for control to lead, while Sorrel mocked him, teased him, had been thrilling. And then touching him...

Cypress groaned, feeling his shaft hardening in his trousers.

He hadn't been able to get it out of his head.

This bare room would feel so much more welcoming if Sorrel was sprawled somewhere within it. Perhaps Cypress would even begin to like court life if there was someone in it that brought him joy and made him want to stay.

Where the hell are you?! He struck the wall with the side of his fist before he leaned his forehead against his arm. His eyes bowed as his thoughts fixated on his missing companion.

Sorrel should be here with him. Cypress had finally gotten the damn courage to approach him, and he'd been hoping that would be the beginning for them. Instead, he'd lost him!

He should be somewhere where he could see him, talk to him, touch him. Because, since he'd held his cock in his hand and slipped his finger inside him, Cypress had wanted more. To hold, to touch, kiss, lick. He wanted to bite.

And he knew the moment he bent his arm so he could lean further against the wall while unbuttoning his trousers to grasp his own pulsating, rigid cock, that he was irrevocably infatuated. He was obsessed with the enigmatic man.

His mind and body ached for every inch of him.

He stroked his cock from tip to base, pulling back the skin until it felt taut and the pink head popped through, while imagining Sorrel's face.

That boyish face, somehow both masculine with his sharp jaw, and yet gentle with high cheekbones. How his bottom lip was a little fuller than the top, making him have a sinful, permanent pout. His blue eyes held a playfulness that called to the depths of Cypress.

He stroked forward, giving a massaging twist with his palm around his broad cockhead, and shuddered. Sorrel smelled of jasmine. His voice was deep but lovely when it was moaning, or panting, or asking Cypress for more.

His senses ached for Sorrel to fill them like he had that night.

He wanted the perfect man in front of him.

The muscles in his arm flexed as he started to work his cock faster. Suppressing the first groan that fell from his lips, he pictured Sorrel kneeling for him.

He thumbed his cockhead, imagining it was him licking across the tip to collect the drop of precum that had formed. He'd tease me, I just fucking know it. With how Sorrel been with him that night, Cypress knew if he had the man in the powerful position of on his knees to suck him, Sorrel would try to have Cypress at his mercy.

And he wanted it.

His eyes drooped heavily as he pictured it, pictured him. His tongue coming out to play. His pouty lips kissing the sides of his cock. For him to bring one of Cypress' balls into his mouth so he could feel the rough texture along the roof of it, the sharpness of teeth, the caressing softness of his warm tongue. He would probably suck him fast all of a sudden and then slow down, giving him different speeds.

I want him to take me into his mouth so badly. He stared down at his cock as a sharp exhalation pushed past his lips. To lick it, suck it, gnaw on it. To coat my cock in his saliva.

He'd probably need to grab the long strands of Sorrel's hair to steady himself, to help his head bob along as his body started losing itself to the pleasure.

All of it would drive him insane.

It would push Cypress. It would make the darker parts of him break to the surface. To be savage and take control, something he could only release behind closed doors.

And he just knew that Sorrel would look up at him with a teasing glint in his eyes. Yet behind it, he would also appear trusting, and part of Cypress would want to break that.

He bit his bottom lip before he groaned, "Fuck." His cock pulsated in his moving palm while his abdomen spasmed at the clutch of pleasure that continued to spark through his groin.

He stroked around the flared rim of his cockhead and then massaged down the length of his shaft by an inch or two, his hand working the most sensitive parts of himself. Up and down, back and forth, teasing himself further to release.

Cypress would grab the back of his head and would thrust to show him he was still in control. Would force his cock into the back of Sorrel's throat and try to fuck down it. Swallow me whole.

He squeezed his shaft harder, knowing the tightness of his throat would be intense. He would feel Sorrel's Adam's apple massaging the underneath of him if he thrust into his face. Cypress would want to, badly, and he didn't know if he'd be able to stop himself.

His lips parted as the bottom one fell, the fist leaning against the wall clenching. It would feel so good. Better than his hand as it continued to stroke, informing him of how hard he was by the raised veins along the sides of his throbbing shaft.

His mouth would be warm, and wet, filled with different textures he'd want to explore. I want him here so badly.

Then there were things he didn't know. Would Sorrel's eyes tear up? Would he let Cypress thrust into his mouth and down into his throat or would Sorrel be devilish and do it himself?

What sent him over the edge, forcing his sac to tighten as his balls drew up, was the thought of making Sorrel taste his seed.

His groan shuddered out of collapsing lungs.

Cypress ejaculated as his hand moved with speed, picturing himself spending down Sorrel's throat or coating his tongue with it. He wanted him to taste his ecstasy, to taste his need for him. His fucking desperation for him.

Spurts hit the wall in front of him, the ground, even his shoes. He didn't care where it landed as his knees shook, tension shooting through him. He wildly thrust into his own hold, chasing his orgasm with more friction. Shudders racked his body as he bit into his forearm, only hiding his groan because it felt so good to bite and to be bitten at the same time.

His wings uncomfortably buckled inwards like they threatened to snap, kinking in ways that were unnatural.

Fuck… he thought when the last blissful rope of seed left his body. When I get my hands on him again, I'm not letting him go.

He continued to use one bent arm to support himself, the other releasing his milked cock to hang limply in the air. What would Sorrel do now, I wonder? If his fantasy were real, and he was before him on his knees, and he showed him he could be rather rough, how would Sorrel act?

When he realised he didn't know, Cypress just imagined what he wanted. He pictured that handsome face, with seed-covered lips, turning a smile up at him on his knees. He wanted to see Sorrel was happy to ease his lust and satisfy him. To want to please him, even if it was a little painful or uncomfortable. To accept him the way he was.

After that, Cypress would take care of him. He wanted to be soothing and kind after being difficult and rough. Wanted to knead his body in appreciation. Touch his hair, look into those blue eyes. Nibble at those lips he knew were soft.

He's perfect. There wasn't a thing about him he'd change.

A cold brush of wind managed to reach even the core of this tree, and it pushed through his flower door. The chill of it broke him from his haze.

What is wrong with me? He wanted to laugh pitifully at himself. The person he was picturing was currently missing, and he was jerking off in the safety of his room.Horny and obsessed.

Guilt threatened to tear through his satisfied stupor, but Cypress wouldn't let it. He needed this, needed him, even if it was just a fantasy.

For some strange reason, since the moment he'd discovered the wingless fairy from afar, Cypress had craved him with an ache. At first, it was just to watch him so he could tantalise Cypress and bring him joy in his otherwise dim life. He didn't often laugh, but Sorrel had forced it out of him, regardless.

It had been over a week since he'd seen him. He could no longer watch him. He was out of sight, but he was not out of mind. I should never have taken him from his fucking home.

"Prince Cypress," someone said as they knocked on his door, jarring him from his thoughts.

It's all my fault.

"Coming," he told them, tucking his shaft away and rebuttoning his trousers.

Since he didn't want anyone to discover the mess he'd just created, he exited. He also wasn't fond of people violating his private space.

"What are you doing here?" he asked calmly, eyeing Zahrya. A fur cloak had been tied over her petal armour to combat the growing cold. "I commanded you to stay in Pond Town in case Sorrel was seen."

Since Cypress wasn't allowed to leave the kingdom, he had five royal guards volunteer to remain awake and help search for Sorrel.

When he'd announced that he'd found the person he was intending to marry, that he'd found his kindred spirit and he was missing, they had stepped forward. They wanted to help their new prince, to serve him as much as they wanted to serve any other royal.

Zahrya had, for some reason, taken personal responsibility for losing him. Had she not interrupted Cypress that night, he may not have lost Sorrel. Of course, Cypress tried to argue with her on that, but she refused to budge.

Not wearing her usual helmet, Zahrya bowed in greeting until all he could see was the back of her head. Her coily hair was secured in a tight bun. "We've found someone who has seen him. We've brought him here so you can speak with him."

Without a shift in his expression at the information, the only way one would have noticed that tension shot through Cypress was the clenching of one of his fists.

"Take me to him," he demanded, immediately stepping forward.

She sprinted to take the lead in order to show him where they'd secured the man. Her steps were fast for his sake. Her leaf boots tapped against the wooden ground before she stepped off to fly directly upwards.

"Who is he?" he asked as they flew up the tree's path.

"A swallow sprite, your highness. Said his name is Sunny." She turned her head back, and her eyes hardened. "And he's in really bad shape."

Shit. That couldn't mean anything good.

Cypress exited his home tree, and a winter world greeted him, as did the cold.

He landed on the main branch near the entrance when he saw two guards supporting a swallow sprite on his three-toed, yellow-clawed feet. One wing was twisted behind him, and the odd way his feathers stuck out of his body indicated he was gravely injured.

Cypress even thought his brown vest was stained with blood.

"You," Sunny, the swallow sprite, snapped out before Cypress could speak. He lifted an arm to point a finger at him. "Are you the one looking for a wingless fairy these guys were asking about?"

Good. He was straight to the point, just how he preferred people to be.

"Yes," he answered, folding his arms across his chest. "Have you seen him?"

"What guarantee do I have that you aren't out to hurt him?"

What kind of fucking question was that?That's what he wanted to ask. It also made him wonder just what kind of danger Sorrel had gotten into, especially for Sunny to start this conversation so defensively.

Instead of being brash, he answered, "I would never hurt him. My name is Prince Cypress, and I'm the future ruler of these lands."

Sunny narrowed his eyes before he gritted his teeth in a disrespectful sneer. "A crown on your damn head doesn't mean shit. Most royalty I've met are arrogant and selfish."

Cypress lifted his chin, his features turning casual as he tapped his biceps.

"Arrogance and self-centredness come with the position." Cypress didn't know how much he could tell the swallow sprite. "But I have no intention of harming Sorrel. He's one of our people and therefore we must protect him."

His answer must have been unsatisfactory because he didn't receive a reply. Sunny's brown eyes just wandered over the ground as he thought.

Migrating sprites like his type are often uncertain of strangers. They were always wary.

But there was something Cypress needed to know more than anything. His arms loosened as he asked, "Was he taken?"

Did Sorrel run away, or was he stolen? Did he leave me that night? He never had the chance to explain himself. He learnt I was the prince... Did it freak Sorrel out and he bolted while Cypress was distracted?

"Yes," Sunny answered.

Both relief and worry rushed through him at the same time. Relief that Sorrel may still want to see him, and worry that Cypress may never be able to.

"Where is he? Who took him?" Cypress stepped forward, his fa?ade of calm fading away. It could have been someone cruel. Someone who intended to hurt him. "I was supposed to protect him, but when I turned around, he was just... gone. And of course, the sprites saw nothing."

It was a lie. He knew it was a lie, but he couldn't be violent to them.

It was against the law for flower fairies to harm others unless in self-defence, even if Cypress thought that was a silly law. The line between the hierarchy amongst the fairy types, especially with the animal sprites, was remarkably thin.

The animal sprites felt intimidated and inferior compared to the flower fairies and their magic, and found any and every reason to hate them. However, they needed each other. The seasons needed to rotate, and the animals needed guidance through it. Each fairy had their tasks to complete so this order wasn't disrupted.

A war would create an imbalance.

Cypress wondered if this issue was just in his kingdom or if the bordering forest kingdoms had the same issues. There were millions of fairy kingdoms all over the world, and each of them was different.

"The alliance in our kingdom is weak," he admitted. "As an outsider, I'm sure you've been to many others and know just how easy it is for this to happen. The sprites are resentful."

Sunny's eyes widened. He lifted his index finger and shook it up and down. It trembled weakly from either pain or tiredness. "You think he might have been taken to spite you."

"Yes," Cypress admitted with a sigh, letting his eyes fall to the side. "He's important to me. What is a better way to lure me into a trap than to take someone I care about?"

"I don't know who it was that took him, but I saw him inside the toad sprite's dance club." Sunny shrugged off the assistance of Cypress' guards and shakily took a step forward. "I lost my flock and needed a warm place to stay for the night. Just as I was preparing to leave the next morning to find my birds, I saw him on the stage. He looked so damn uncomfortable, but I did nothing because I thought it wasn't my place."

Cypress bit out a curse. FuckingMr Toad!

The sprite was nothing but a damn nuisance. To discover he was the one who had kidnapped Sorrel was gut wrenching. He could only imagine the treatment he'd received at the hands of that foul cretin.

He was often the centre of rebellion and hatred. Mr Toad was regularly the starting force of the strife between the sprite fairies and flower fairies. Just one seed sprouting a contagious disease.

He forced him to dance. The only person Cypress wanted Sorrel dancing for was him.

He gritted his teeth as his eyes squinted into a glare, the flames of vengeance flaring to life in his veins.

"And you left him there?" Cypress snapped, the urge to stomp forward and strangle this sprite in front of him overwhelming.

"No," he huffed. "Just as I was leaving, he almost crashed into me as he was fleeing."

Pride soared through Cypress. Of course, Sorrel fought back. He should have known better than to think he was some weak kind of damsel.

He still remembered the way Sorrel had nearly broken his nose when Cypress first met him, and blood had instantly rushed to his groin to make him hard. He knew then that Sorrel would be feisty.

The swallow sprite looked down at his hands.

"I had him. I almost saved him, but they took him from me before I could fly away. They trapped me to the ground as a beetle sprite stole him instead. It has to be better than being with that toad guy, but I have no idea where he is. I'm not from here and I'm worried."

So was Cypress. Beetle sprites were fickle and vain little creatures.

"What kind of beetle?" Cypress asked. "I need to know which bug hollow to go to. Did you see what he looked like?"

"I don't know... he had a greenish tinge to his black outer shell."

"Figtree beetle," Cypress muttered to himself. Which meant he needed to go to Haven Hollow. He hated going there. Those that occupied it were the worst of them all. "How long ago was this?"

"Five days."

A gust of wind swelled, cutting the sudden tension that grew thick between them.

"You're telling me," Cypress started, moving forward with heavy stomps, "that you've known who took him for five days? You were in the same town as my guards, and you only informed them now?"

Cypress grabbed Sunny by the collar of his brown vest that blended in perfectly with his feathers.

Yanking him down to Cypress' level, his nose crinkled with rage. "Why didn't you come forward earlier?"

"The fact I'm even alive is a miracle in itself." Sunny narrowed his eyes downward. "That Toad ordered my beating for interfering and then threw me in the pond to drown. I had to find a place to recover without freezing to death. Be lucky I'm here at all to give you this information."

With an annoyed grunt, Cypress let him go.

"Fine. Can you think of any other details?"

Sunny cupped his chin before scratching at the feathers near his hairline. "I don't know. I didn't see much else. Maybe a plum vest?"

Cypress lowered his gaze when that sounded familiar – and not in a good way. The hairs on his nape lifted as he analysed that description until it eventually clicked with him.

"Shit. Jeffers?" Cypress cursed again, hating the idea of that nefarious sprite having Sorrel. He turned to Zahrya and her back stiffened at his attention. "Get me a fur coat."

"You've been ordered to stay within the kingdom tree, your highness."

"You will either get me a fur coat from the armoury and accompany me, or I will do so by myself. The choice is yours, but I will no longer sit safely inside this tree while there's the possibility that Sorrel is out there" – he pointed to the blizzard getting stronger by the hour – "by himself in danger. I'm going to Haven Hollow to find that beetle, and he better hope he fucking has him safe and sound, or else."

That was the only solace of this. If Jeffers had Sorrel, then he was likely still alive and unharmed.

He knew what Jeffers had: his little collection of strange items and people. As much as Cypress had investigated what that beetle was up to, finding it absolutely despicable, there was little he had been able to do to intervene.

Flower fairies had no control or ruling over animal fairies. Each class was ruled by themselves, and they often did little to stop crime and horrible acts.

Zahrya's lips tightened in defiance at his words, and at the menacing way he said his threat. Cypress, the calm prince, was no longer calm. None of the guards currently standing around him were used to an outburst like this from him.

When she didn't move, his gaze darkened.It appeared she'd rather disobey him than his parents.

"You know better than anyone that I can sneak in and out of the kingdom unnoticed. Do you wish to tell the king and queen when they emerge from their hibernation that I'm missing also, or that I've been found dead, because you were too stubborn to listen to me? I will leave by myself, and you know it."

After a few moments of facing off, he raised his brow at her, and Zahrya's shoulders slumped.

"Yes, Prince Cypress. I'll make sure you have everything you need while we accompany you."

Then he nodded towards another guard as she ran off. "You, prepare my bird for flight."

His house sparrow would be better at flying through the winter storms than he was with just his own wings. He was too light and would be blown about, but nothing was going to stop him from going after Sorrel.

He was tired of waiting. Tired of doing nothing.

He didn't care that it was dangerous. He would no longer remain idle and watch winter slowly pass from within the warmth of his home tree.

"What about Mr Toad?" the last guard remaining asked.

Cypress looked at him over his shoulder, his nose crinkling as his eyes sharpened. His voice was dark and menacing, and filled with so much spite as he stated, "I'll deal with him when the time comes."