Anam Cara

The Champion Taunts a King

Mentions of sexual acts

What was she going to do? Following the directions in reverse wasn't going to help her now. Calling Jareth would be admitting defeat. She could probably call Hoggle or Orla but it might take them ages to find her or even get to her since she didn't know where she was. Ludo and Didymus were probably out on patrol. Who did that leave?

Torren. Sarah had almost forgotten about the Lord Chamberlain's existence. But he would be able to teleport or whatever it was the Fae did to just appear places.

Opening the compact, she called his name. "Torren? Lord Chamberlain? Are you there?"

"Wha-Who?" His glasses were askew as though he had just jumped in fright. "Oh, it's you. Did I not make myself clear that I want no part in any of your dealings?"

"Perfectly. However, I was asked to go to the kitchens and I got lost." Sarah kept her voice calm, hiding the annoyance that grated at her nerves and made her want to clench her jaw.

"Lost? How in the world did you manage–never mind–where are you?" Torren cleaned his glasses with a handkerchief before replacing them back on his face. How had this girl become champion if she couldn't even find the kitchens?

These Fae were going to be the death of her. Why did they all seem hell-bent on being the most infuriating creatures? "If I knew where I was, I wouldn't have called you."

Torren sighed. "Look around you. What do you see?"

Sarah took in the painting on the wall next to her. "I see a painting of a–oh, oh my–well, I guess that's a Satyr chasing a nymph."

Heat rushed to her cheeks as she plainly saw the reason the Satyr was chasing her protruding menacingly from between his legs. The nymph was naked, the remnants of her clothes in tatters clutched in the Satyr's clawed grip. The painting next to it depicted exactly what happened once the nymph was caught. She was spread wide beneath him. Her face a study in pleasured agony as he buried himself deep within her.

A picture of a sailor being pleasured by sirens as they slowly dragged him off a rocky shoal into the water was on the wall opposite her. Their hands and mouths covering his body. His body bestrewn in bites and scratches. His eyes closed, mouth open unaware of the danger he was in as his ship sank in the background. Sarah could almost hear his moans over the lapping waves echoing in the silent hall.

These were the types of images one could only find in a magazine hidden in a black bag in her world. Each one more erotic than the next.

"Don't move. Don't open any doors. I'll be right there." How could she have ended up in that wing? It was reserved for guests to use during their more colorful celebrations. Mortals with their prudish religions and celibate ways would surely die of shock.

Torren appeared where she should have been. Instead, he found the mortal down the hall, her jaw slackened as she stared at another painting. He groaned as he went to collect the obviously traumatized human. "Come come. These are not for you."

"Are you sure? Because they are definitely for someone." Sarah laughed as she looked at what appeared to be an angel or maybe a demon, his black wings extended across the canvas, long white hair tied in a ponytail draped over his pale shoulder as a woman in white knelt before him, pleasuring him. Tears ran down her hollowed cheeks as his hand clutched the back of her head.

Torren wrapped his hand around her wrist and lead her away from the lascivious gallery. He took a quick glance at the Champion. "Oh gods, you're not even dressed. How did you end up here?"