Chapter 7

Struggling, Sorrel jerked his shoulders back and forth as he attempted to escape the multiple hands that grabbed him. Unable to free himself, he was dragged backwards.

"Leh mi gow!" he yelled against the cloth shoved deep between his teeth. The material was coarse, and it dried his mouth of saliva, making his throat feel clogged.

The musky smelling, sack-like mesh bag over his head made it impossible to see. As if he and his abductors were invisible, the people of the town continued to merrily chat as Sorrel was dragged past them. Were they ignoring this or were his struggles being hidden from their view?

"Sumwon elp mmuh!"

No one came to his rescue.

When he realised it was utterly useless, he stopped struggling and limply allowed himself to be led. There was no point in fighting, and it only wore him down.

Cypress… What would he think happened to Sorrel? He didn't like that he was in need of saving, but what if Cypress thought Sorrel just ran off and never came looking for him? He's a prince. Why would he bother searching for me?

He was still reeling from learning that, and now he was being kidnapped. The best night of his life had turned into his absolute worst. I should never have left home.

He stumbled when the ground no longer felt solid, causing his captors to lose their footing briefly. They practically dragged him along after that, and a short while later, they stopped pulling him and the bag was ripped from his head. His eyes took a while to adjust to the bright light.

With his arms pinned behind his back, Sorrel took in the ballroom of a large plastic cruise ship. At the very back, on a lower level, there was a main stage that had been part of the toy's design. Smaller platforms had been set up in other places along the walls of the upper level he stood on, and they gave a small sense of privacy.

Ugly navy carpet had been worn down over time to where white scraped through, while the cream walls were scratched to reveal the plastic grey beneath them. Off to his right was a brown bar, as if it was made of wood, with a furry sprite behind it serving drinks.

Carved wooden tables and chairs were littered all throughout, facing each of the stages. Sprites were already sitting at them, as well as in the many permanent booths.

Battery operated fairy lights strung around the centre stage also ran down the middle of the room. They went behind him to the dark outside world, where he could see the balcony of a boat. The corners and walls were covered in partial shadows, which shifted as the building gently swayed like it was on water.

As he was taking in the red draping cloth over the centre stage, attached by thumbtacks, he was shoved into a booth.

In front of him sat a sprite who looked like a toad, his skin a rocky brown while his eyes were yellow and far apart. Wearing black pin-striped suit pants and a matching jacket, he'd paired them with a dark-grey shirt that added contrast. He also wore a matching fedora.

A round table separated them, and the way the sprite's wide mouth grinned at the sight of Sorrel had him shrinking in his seat. Even seated, the toad-like being was much bigger than him.

He peeked to the side at two other toad sprites who had been dragging him, both of them lime green. They turned their backs to him, blocking Sorrel's exit from the booth.

"Why am I here?" Sorrel asked, snapping his glare to the unsavoury creature sitting across from him.

"I had my men bring you here." He gestured towards the guards. "My name is Cane, but you may call me Mr Toad. I am the one who runs this town, you see."

Sorrel's brows furrowed lightly as he tilted his head. "Like a mayor or governor or something?"

Mr Toad gave a croaking laugh, his hand reaching forward for a cup on the table. He took a sip from it.

"If only it was that easy. No. There's no mayor for our little Pond Town, since the flower fairies think they're in charge." He swirled his cup as his yellow eyes stared into it. "I'm the one who brings the type of fun the winged fairies look down upon, and who makes people go missing if they displease me. I'm also the one who offers the finest pleasures to all, even the grossest of us sprites."

A chill crept over Sorrel's mind and trailed down his back like a ghastly finger. "You're making it sound like you're a gangster or something," he stated with an awkward laugh.

There couldn't be something like a mobster in this cute fairy kingdom, could there? Greta had shown him a movie or two with them, with heroes fighting to disrupt the corrupt and immoral groups of criminals.

"Sure, if that's what you want to call me." He hiked his long thumb with a bulbous tip at the guards. "They just call me boss."

The chill intensified as Sorrel's expression dropped and his face paled. An uncomfortable swirl spun his insides into knots.

"Why did you take me?"

Mr Toad's human nose looked so unusual on his large, round face. But it was the way his wide mouth parted to swallow more of the liquid from his cup that Sorrel truly found disturbing.

Cheers from patrons started up, taking Sorrel's attention away from him just as the red curtains lifted. Loud, sensual music played, filling the room with seductive, resonating beats.

"Ah, perfect timing." He gestured for Sorrel to watch as a woman entered the stage, scantily dressed in only a flowy skirt and bra.

Dark-grey fur covered a long body which moved with erotic grace, but the distance between them didn't allow Sorrel to see what kind of sprite she was. Her curves were voluptuous and womanly. Jeers started as she grasped the pole in the very centre of the stage, hooked her leg around it, and spun.

"I saw earlier you liked to dance."

With eyes widening, he brought his gaze back to the toad as he clutched the edge of the table nervously. "What do you mean?"

"I was out scouting tonight, and I saw you dancing for everyone to see. It seemed like you were enjoying yourself." A long pink tongue licked at the seam of his thin lips. "It was obvious you liked how everyone was watching you."

"T-that's not true!" Sorrel had been enjoying dancing with Cypress, and the world had just fallen away.

"You allowed your dancing partner to dip you in front of me, and you smiled directly at me. I would think that says otherwise."

He'd been smiling at himself!

"Look," Sorrel bit out, pushing up from the table with the intention of removing himself from this place. "I don't care how you interpreted it, but that wasn't what I was doing."

"I didn't say you can leave." One of the guards turned around, folded his arms, and glared down at Sorrel. The green of his eyes held a poisonous hostility.

Sorrel retreated into the booth.

"You are going to dance for me." His yellow eyes roamed appreciatively over Sorrel. "You'll be the prettiest thing in my arsenal of workers. People would pay good money for you."

"Wouldn't you need women?"

"Does he look like a woman to you?" He nodded his head to one of the smaller stages, where a butterfly sprite danced. Obviously male by his physique, his wings were vibrant and beautiful, with mixtures of different reds, pinks, and hints of black and white.

"But why me, though?" Sorrel looked around, his rapid heartbeat filling him with more anxiety the longer he sat there. "I would prefer to leave."

"I don't care what you want," he sneered in return. "That fairy prince of yours no longer has you, and I'm tired of the flower fairies getting everything good. It's the sprite fairies' turn, and I'm starting with you. You're not even a flower fairy – you have no wings. The sprites will love you for that, and they'll think you're just as beautiful as I think you are."

The compliment did nothing to soothe Sorrel. He didn't really think he was beautiful. Not in comparison to the wonderful, handsome features of Cypress, with his short hazelnut hair and beard, eyes the colour of molten maple leaves, and sharp features.

An ache lanced his chest. He missed Cypress already – especially the way he made Sorrel instantly feel calm and safe with him.

Although he was attempting to keep his nervous trembling at bay, Sorrel was afraid. He glanced at the door, hoping the prince would burst through and save him at any moment.

Cypress didn't, and his gaze flicked to the two guards blocking him in and keeping him trapped.

Teeth clenched, Sorrel brought his focus back to the threat in front of him and narrowed his eyes at Mr Toad. "I won't dance for you."

He squinted his eyes in return as he leaned back in his seat and folded his arms. "You will pleasure me in some way, and if it isn't financially, I'll find other means." A malicious grin spread his mouth even wider. "Perhaps for your insolence, it'll be both. You will dance, and you will do as I tell you to. The only difference is if you'll feel pain or not, but that is your choice."

Whistles made his gaze dart to the main stage. The furry sprite woman had removed her top and her naked breasts were on show. She jiggled them side to side with a smile, and her joy grew as patrons threw small bits of silver or gold onto the stage at her clawed feet.

He covered his mouth to hide his gasp. I think I'm going to be sick. He could tell the woman was enjoying herself, but all Sorrel could think was, I hope I'm not forced to do something like that.

"Now get on the table and dance for me. I want to see what you can do."

"No," he answered quietly. "Cypress will come for me."

He'd asked Sorrel to trust him, and promised he would take him home. He was choosing to hope Cypress would realise he'd been taken and would look for him.

Mr Toad's throat expanded as if his laugh had been so great it made him croak.

"The fairy prince? Why would he care about your wellbeing?" Mr Toad cackled a little more. "Now that you're gone, he's probably already left the town. I'm aware of the chatter of the hibernating sprites asking for help from the flower fairies. He'll most likely need to help them collect their nest foods for hibernation. He's got more important things to deal with than someone like you."

"You're wrong!" He had to be mistaken.

Cypress surely wouldn't leave Sorrel to the mercy of the unfamiliar world beyond Greta's farmlands, especially since he was the one who took him from them.

"You think you're the first one the fairy prince has brought to Pond Town to court for his own fun?" His eyes crinkled with a mocking sneer. "I see and hear all that happens in this town. You're not special."

Sorrel flinched at his words. He hadn't thought on Cypress' past, that he may not have been the only one he'd brought here. He'd touched Sorrel so confidently and expertly it shouldn't have come as this much of a surprise that Sorrel could perhaps mean so little to a prince.

"I'll admit, though, I think you're the first to give in to him so easily." Sorrel's heart clenched with mortification, the blood draining from his face as his mouth gaped. "One dance and you allowed him to touch you. You were easy – that's how I knew you'd be perfect working for me."

"Y-you watched us?"

With an annoyed sigh, Mr Toad shook his head like his answer was obvious. "You're already a whore, allowing the prince to use you so easily, and out in the open where anyone could see you."

Sorrel slammed his hands on the table and stood. "It wasn't like that! What we shared was special."

Cypress had eased Sorrel's confusion and arousal. He'd accepted him and his desire, right into his very hand.

He wouldn't allow this ugly toad to make him think otherwise.

Sorrel's glare resurfaced. "And he will come for me."

"Just how well do you know your little fairy prince?" The bully of a sprite gave him a sly expression, something mean and terrible in his froggy features. "Because he isn't as gentle or kind as he pretends to be."

Sorrel's brows furrowed and his lips twisted. He couldn't answer him. I've known him less than a day.

"If you put me on a stage, there are more chances he will find me," he told him, desperate to say anything to get the toad to let him go. "If he's looking for me, you'll be making it easier for him."

"I doubt he will be, but it doesn't matter either way. The types of sprite fairies who come to my kind of establishment are rather hateful of the flower fairies. They also wouldn't be stupid enough to cross me or they'll end up at the bottom of the pond. He can ask everyone, and not even a single mouse sprite will peep that I have you here working for me."

More and more, the chill of fear settled into his entire being. His arms shook as he continued to lean against the table, trying to hide the fact he was trembling.

"I think you need some time to digest your new status." He waved his long, dextrous hand to the side with a flourish. "Take him to my office for the night. He can start in the morning."

One of the towering guards grabbed his biceps. Sorrel let himself be dragged, knowing there was very little he could do besides create a scene. Glancing over the patrons covered in dim light, he realised they seemed rougher and more antisocial than the colourful, festive ones he'd seen outside.

They looked hollow on the inside, grasping mugs with dark gazes.

At the back of the ship, the guards opened a door and threw him inside a lightless room. He stumbled, just as the boat rocked and amplified his momentum, sending him smashing onto his shoulder against the ground. Blackness shrouded his vision completely when they shut the door once more.

On his hands and knees, Sorrel steadied himself. He breathed, his lungs constricting as the suffocating darkness ate at his resolve. His breaths felt like acid in his lungs, dry and burning.

Panic set in.

Sorrel was discovering the world was a lot darker than he'd ever imagined.

Fuck, what do I do?

And what about Greta?