Page 25 of Chased By the Fairy

“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.

Nothing can be worse than Mr Toad and his dancing club. That’s what Sorrel had thought, at least.

He didn’t know if being stuck in a cage for the rest of his life would be any better.

Sorrel attempted to tug down the deep-navy jacket covering his white long-sleeved shirt, finding it a little tight. Considering his new captor, Jeffers, was the one who had given it to him, he was surprised by its quality.

It looked similar to the remarkable clothing that Sorrel had admired on Cypress’ body.

His pants were the same colour, and both were soft and silky, almost like the delicate fabric would break under his touch. His shoes were black, matching the long tie running down his chest.

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