Chapter 9

After a few minutes of being in the air, once they were safely away from the awful toy cruise ship, Sorrel focused on the beetle sprite holding him.

He just couldn't seem to catch a break!

From one captor to the next. He worried that the next place was going to be just as terrible as the last one. Actually, thinking about it, nothing can be worse than Mr Toad and his dancing club. Sorrel's entire body shuddered in disgust.

"I owe you nothing," Sorrel snapped, eyeing his translucent-green wings. If they weren't a deadly fall's height from the ground, he would have shoved at him to be put down. "I didn't ask you to save me."

The beetle wore a nice, plain plum vest that almost matched his black outer shell. Sorrel wasn't sure if the strip of white around his neck was a necktie or just his markings.

"Perhaps not," he said nonchalantly, as his eyes – black yet somehow filled with a bone-chilling darkness – slipped to Sorrel's face. "But you did need saving, and I helped you."

"From one assaulter to the next?" Sorrel sneered. "I could have been saved by the swallow sprite who was helping me!"

At least he seemed kind.

"Assaulter?" he scoffed, darting over a branch before flying on, his wings buzzing loudly. "I never touch my merchandise. I saved your life, and the cost of that is now you belong to me."

"P-pardon?" he stuttered. "Belong to you?"

Why did every word that came out of this beetle sprite's mouth cause a leaden ball of dread to settle in his gut?

His clawed fingers dug into Sorrel's sides as he held him tighter, meshing their bodies together. He winced, his arms locked at his sides and unable to do anything to prevent it.

Despite the warm sunshine coming from a beautiful blue sky, he shivered in the cool air that brushed his hair around his shoulders. He still wore his dance attire. He didn't know what was worse: the fact the outfit was so minimal it made the chill clutch at him like a set of claws, or that he was embarrassed to be seen in it outside the club.

"I've never seen a wingless flower fairy before. You couldn't imagine my surprise when one of my workers told me about you dancing on stage for Cane." Since he'd been watching where he was going, the beetle cast Sorrel a gaze filled with excitement. "Let alone when I saw you there myself."

"You're not going to make me dance like that ugly toad did, are you?" Sorrel asked, despite already trying to come up with a plan to get away.

As soon as he puts me down, I'll punch him and then run.

Hopefully he ran into someone who could take him home. Someone who wasn't a creep.

"That is Cane's business, not mine." The beetle gave a small chuckle. "No, you can say I like to... collect peculiar things. I offered to pay a pretty penny for you, but Cane refused, and getting past his little gang is near impossible. Lucky for me, you basically ran into my arms."

Sorrel looked over the beetle's shoulder, wishing he knew where they were going. Below him, shrubs and foliage passed at a dizzying rate.

Last time he'd flown, he'd felt safe against Cypress' body as he hugged the fairy from behind. Now, vertigo wavered his vision at the sheer distance below them, at how fast they flew, and nausea rolled in his gut.

"Please," Sorrel begged, beseeching the beetle with his eyes. "I just want to go home."

"It's funny that you think you have a choice in the matter," he stated with a dark scowl. "Just be thankful it's me who has you. Because, if Cane got his bulbous fingers into you again, you'd likely be dead at the bottom of the pond by now."

"Whatever you were going to pay Mr Toad, I-I'll double it!" Sorrel stuttered, frantic to come up with a solution. "My mother is the human that lives nearby. Whatever you want, it's yours."

Surely Greta would be willing to give this sprite whatever he could want just to save Sorrel, her child. She would do it, he knew she would. She would do and sacrifice anything for his safety, as would he for her.

The beetle paused them in mid-air, fluttering them to a halt. His face crinkled, as if he was attempting to frown while the hardness of his exoskeleton made that difficult.

"You live with that woman? That's dangerous. Fairies and sprites aren't supposed to reveal ourselves to humans for our own safety." Somehow, his expression turned even more sinister as it twisted. "Intriguing. You truly are unique, aren't you? Wingless, your mother is human. What's next? You will tell me you were born from an acorn?"

The mirth in the beetle's eyes, the interest deepening his tone, and his body growing tight rendered Sorrel silent.

A barley seed, not an acorn.Sorrel had a feeling that if he told him that, he'd never be free again.

He rolled his eyes away, showing he had no intention of answering his question.

"What should I call you, then?" the sprite asked, almost seeming to coo at him as if he wanted to appeal to Sorrel's softer side. "I'm Jeffers if that helps."

When he didn't answer again, instead slitting his gaze into a glare at the forest before them, the beetle pouted, his cheeks puffing. It was almost a childish expression of someone who hadn't gotten their way.

"You will tell me," Jeffers stated, flying forward once more. "When you are broken with time, like the others, you will become obedient. How you act will reflect your rewards or your neglect."

Sorrel shuddered at the thought of what may come, or what may happen to him. Still, nothing could be worse than dancing when he didn't want to, or the fear that lurched his stomach when he'd felt slimy, bumpy toad lips against his own. Surely, nothing can be worse than that. This was what he hoped, anyway.

His eyes widened, just as the beetle covered his mouth while they went along the outskirts of some kind of insect town nestled between a pair of hollowed-out fallen trees. Much of it looked extravagant, with lots of colour due to broken glass bottles being used as windows or ornaments.

Sorrel struggled, wishing his arms weren't trapped at his sides so he could wave. "Elp! Elp!" His shouts towards the bug sprites he could see were muffled by his captor's hard hand.

Sorrel managed to bite one of his fingers, and the beetle yanked his hand away just as he landed on a platform. Two other bugs pushed on the knot of the tree like it was a door, exiting to greet them.

"You little brat," he cursed, while shoving Sorrel backwards as he let him go. "Put him away."

Before he could fight, run, or do anything, six sets of hands belonging to two bug sprite men grabbed his arms and torso. "Let me go!"

It was pointless to struggle. He knew this even as he kicked and shoved with his shoulders as they dragged him inside the tree. Muted light had him squinting so he could see in the dimness and perhaps remember the layout for when he escaped.

Where is Cypress? What was he doing? Did he care that Sorrel was gone? Would he even miss him?

He hated the next words that came to mind, only because they made him feel even smaller than he already was.

I wish... he'd come save me.

He wished that swallow sprite had gotten away and caught up to them.

I wish I'd never left home.

Sorrel didn't care that he was the prince, or that they were so different. In just one night, he'd foolishly fallen in love. Sorrel missed him like a terrible ache and his eyes hungered to drink in the sight of him. His touch had permanently burned his soul with want.

To possibly never see him again left a dark space in the corner of his heart.