Gella began to secure the warehouse cargo, leaving Celia to her own devices. Still unable to leave her captor’s side, she was helpless to watch as the mage easily bypassed the lock on the door. Celia hadn’t seen exactly how Gella had done it, but she was a mage. She’d have her ways.

Given nothing to do, she finally had time to consider her situation, and icy fingers of dread began to claw at her soul. Gella had captured her, and there was nothing the swordswoman could do. She had burned her dispelling charm, and with it, her protection for her mind. She leaned down against the warehouse wall, taking a few deep breaths to keep the bubbling fear from overcoming her.

She had been on several battlefields before. Her life had been in the balance, and her swordmaster had drilled into her the importance of keeping a clear head. Fear will muddle your mind, he had said. Fear will get you killed far faster than any blade or arrow. She focused on those words, on that old man, trying to think about anything but the present.

He was a veteran of the Royal Army, a tall, dark-haired man by the name of Krisk. It had never been clear to her if that was an assumed name or his real one, and Krisk was all he seemed to want to be known as. The eight months she learned swordplay under him had been the hardest, toughest, and most painful times of her life. She wouldn’t trade them for a palace full of gold. Krisk had taken her and forged her like a blade, burned away impurities and left her clean and sharp as steel.

The corners of Celia’s mouth twitched up at the memory, and a tiny bit of the roiling fear and dread faded away. She was a warrior; she could fight through this. Gella may be powerful, but she isn’t invincible. All she had to do was keep an eye out for an opportunity to act.

“All done,” Gella said lightly, startling Celia out of her reverie. She blinked as she took in the neat stacks of crates outside the door.

“Ho...” Celia began, then snapped her mouth shut before the question could leave her lips. No sense in giving her an opening. Instead she simply glared at Gella and turned toward the darkened forest. A moment later there was a warping sensation, and when Celia turned back the crates had vanished. Gella, completely unburdened, had already swung herself onto her horse’s saddle.

“Time to go, Celia,” she said, as if she needed to be polite. The pale woman offered her hand to help Celia up, and she took a bit of pride in the withering glare she returned. Gella simply smiled. “I could simply force you, if you would prefer that.”

Celia said nothing, just maintaining that glare. “So be it,” Gella said cheerily, as if she were commenting on the weather. “Why don’t you mount the horse, sit still, and make no attempt to get off without permission?” The damnable voices intertwined, seizing control of Celia’s body, and within moments she was sitting in front of Gella with her hands at her sides, which might as well have been lead weights. “It’s a long trip, and it will likely be cold on the way back,” Gella said lightly. There was a rustle behind her, and a heavy black cloak was draped and fastened over the spellbound blonde. Despite her growing anger at being manhandled and controlled, at least she wasn’t being abused.

“Don’t resist this spell, Celia,” Gella purred. “Cadal.”

An impossibly heavy lethargy dripped into Celia’s mind. Sliding over her thoughts like honey, it promised a dive into deep, peaceful rest. She couldn’t resist, she already knew, but… Wait, couldn’t she? Her body was controlled, but not her mind, so she could resist. But she was already so tired, and it would be so difficult to muster the effort, and so much easier to let go, and it was just so much nicer to drift into a dreamless sleep.

“Duisg,” was the first thing Celia heard as she woke. For a brief, blissful moment, she just floated in the haze of drowsiness, content. Then, she recognized the voice that had spoken, and had to clench her mail fists tight to avoid letting out a scream, or a sob, she wasn’t sure which. This is really it, she thought. Gella’s taken me gods only know where. And nobody will know. She tested her will, but the bars she had placed still kept her from moving from where she was sitting. Avoiding giving any attention to the woman that had captured her, Celia looked around, trying to assert some control over the situation instead.

They were in a stable, and from the smell of horse and hay and oiled leather, a fairly busy one. She squinted at the gap between the doors, and from what she could see outside, it was just cresting dawn. She strained her ears, but could only make out low, unintelligible hints of conversation from outside.

“Where are we?” she asked, not looking down at Gella.

“We’re at Cair Dwemor, my home,”’ Gella answered easily. “It’s from the old language—it means Court of Magic. I think you’ll agree that it suits me.” She sounded genuinely pleased with herself. “You can get off the horse now. We need to get you into a bath as soon as possible because, frankly, my pretty knight, you stink.” The blunt statement caught Celia off guard, and before she had noticed she had slid off the horse.

Trying to reclaim some part of the situation, she snarled at Gella. “Well, I’m sorry I don’t have fucking magic to keep me clean and pretty.” Letting anger drive her, she raised a fist to strike the mage, only to freeze halfway to pulling it back for the punch. So she still couldn’t harm her. “I couldn’t have even been captured by a bandit. Sure, then my body would still be theirs. But no! No, no, no, I had to meet up with a fucking freak.” She punctuated her sentence with a gob of spit, intended for Gella’s face but aimed at the floor by her body instead.

“Done?” Gella asked calmly. She didn’t wait for Celia to respond before looking right into her eyes. “Good. Follow me, then.” Turning and walking out of the stable, Celia fell into an easy step behind her, trying fruitlessly to exert even the tiniest bit of control. She relented for a moment in an attempt to conserve her strength, instead taking the time to look around the courtyard. It was a large, square space with high walls and guard towers. It was as worthy of being called a court as any lord’s castle she’d visited, perhaps more so. Along one side of the yard was a large manor house, one they seemed to be walking to. The other sides held a long low squat building, likely a garrison, and a building with a taller roof that was likely a storage building of some kind.

Once they arrived at Gella’s destination, the large doors made of dark wood banded in silver opened without any prompting, revealing an elven woman with her head bowed respectfully. She stood about six feet tall, not unusual for her race, but certainly taller than average. Deep violet hair spilled down her back in a loose braid. Her maid’s dress was demure and chaste, surprisingly, a dark petticoat with white apron over it. The bodice of the dress accentuated the large breasts underneath without being obscene, and her delicate pointed ears poked through her hair, each one decorated with a pearly white gemstone earring. The most striking thing about her wasn’t any of that, though. It was the blue rune etched on her forehead, softly glowing, seeming to pulse as if to a heartbeat.

“Welcome home, my Lady,” she greeted the pair demurely. Rising up from her bow, she glanced at Celia and simply nodded before turning back to the mage. “A special request, or..?” She let the question hang.

Gella laughed softly and shook her head. “No, no, nothing like that. In fact, I have plans to include her in our household.” Celia frowned deeply at that. What in the hells?

“It seems the young miss is against this plan?” The elven maid said lightly, as if commenting on the weather. Celia’s face snapped back to expressionlessness. Damn. The elf studied her face for a moment, and the smallest of frowns crossed her features. She leaned forward and sniffed, then her nose twisted and she shook her head. “By your leave, my Lady, I will see to this young miss’s bath. Will she be joining us for breakfast?”

At the casual way both women were talking as if she weren’t even here, Celia’s temper finally snapped past her ability to hold herself back. All the rage she had smothered roared back to smoldering, burning life. “Fuck you!” She spat at the maid, uncaring how Gella would react. “I earn my living as a warrior, not sitting in a pretty dress attending to a magical freak. So excuse me for not smelling like a fucking rose!” She swung her head to glare at Gella with open hatred, which seemed to do nothing but amuse the pale mage.

“That would be lovely, Violet. Take her and get her cleaned up. I’ll meet you both afterwards, and we can all head to breakfast together. Do you know what Tabby is making this morning?” Gella asked, slipping past the elven woman into the warm entry hall of the manor. Celia helplessly followed, seething with impotent rage. Gella turned and gestured toward the doors, and they closed as suddenly as they had opened. Another gesture from Gella, and Celia gasped, shocked from her rage by the feeling of the bars coming off.

“I’ve taken the leash off of you,” Gella began, then narrowed her eyes as Celia moved, lowering her head to try to ram Gella off balance. The mage took a lithe step back, and Violet suddenly had Celia’s arm pinned behind her back, pushing her to the ground. Gods above, she thought in shock. She’s so strong, and fast! Magic? Rolling her eyes, Gella lightly rapped Celia’s forehead in a playful way.

“Thank you, Vi,” she sighed. The maid simply nodded her head in appreciation. “Now for you, Celia. As I was trying to say, I’ve taken the leash off your mind for now. Though if you aren’t happy with that, I’ll be glad to spellbind you again,” she said with a smirk.

Celia was still for a moment, weighing her options. Between Gella’s speed and the maid’s strength, she had little hope of overpowering them. And she was in their home, Gods above knew where. In a mage’s home. The smart thing to do would be to bide her time and gather information before making any escape. She had no idea what arcane traps lay in wait. So, with a concerted effort, she forced her anger down again and swallowed hard. “I’ll behave.” The words tasted like ash in her mouth.

“Excellent!” Gella said brightly, motioning for Violet to let Celia move again. “Vi, get her cleaned up and presentable. I’ll rejoin you both shortly. Air falbh.” With that, the world around her buckled again, and her captor was gone, leaving the maid and warrior alone. Celia, her mind free for the first time since Gella’s rapier had struck her, turned to look at Violet, none of the earlier anger present. There was no use taking it out on a fellow victim.

“Well, Violet... Lead on, I guess,” she sighed.

The elven woman simply nodded, leading Celia up a set of stairs and down a hallway to a large door. It opened at her slightest touch. Is everything in this manor enchanted? Stepping into the room, Celia was struck by the sheer opulence of it. She had expected a stand-alone bath, to be filled from a well, but the deep set depression in the floor was larger than some places she’d had to sleep in. Off to the side was some sort of metal tube jutting out of the wall, enclosed by what looked to be glass or crystal. Set in the ceiling was a soft light, glowing with an even radiance that couldn’t be natural.

“This... This is a bathing room?” She gawked. Violet turned to face her, nodding.

“Yes, and if you’ll take your clothes off, I’ll show you how to operate it,” she said lightly, unfazed despite the bizarre request.

“You want me to get naked, right here in front of you?” Celia asked in disbelief, folding her arms over her chest. “I’m not giving you a peep show, elf.”

Violet simply sighed in response. “Yes, I fully expect you to be naked. You need to be clean, and my Lady made it perfectly clear that she is willing to chain your mind if you are not willing to cooperate. Either way, your clothes are coming off. The only question is who is in control when it happens.” Celia had no response, except to grit her teeth and try to find some measure of control over her building anger.

“Fine,” she hissed, beginning to undo the straps and buckles on her chest plate.

She left her armor in a neat pile, then took a deep breath before finding the hem of her tunic and pulling it up and over. Violet inspected her bound breasts, then shook her head, and began to undo the binding. Before Celia could object, Violet cut her off. “My Lady has far more effective means of support,” she said in a kinder tone. “Ones which won’t impede your ability to breathe.” Celia still considered swatting the maid’s hands away, but the lingering threat of being spellbound was still fresh in her mind. That, and the gentle touch of another woman’s hands on her breasts was sparking... She burned that thought, stamping it out into the deepest parts of her mind. These people are sick. Evil, she reminded herself, straining to ignore the silken warmth of Violet’s touch on her now free breasts. The maid took a step back after the bindings were removed, and gestured for Celia to continue.

Celia stepped out of her woolen socks, then gave Violet a pleading look. Violet just stood there, quiet, patient. Celia looked away, uncomfortable, and slipped her leggings and panties down without protest.

“There, that wasn’t so bad,” Violet said kindly, before walking over to the strange glass-enclosed spigot. “Why don’t you have a shower first?” She tapped a clear gemstone lower on the wall. “Tap once to start the water flowing. Run your finger to the right to get hot water, or left for cold.” Water began to shoot out from the spigot, and Celia stopped, dumbstruck. This... what was this? She walked over beside Violet, touching the water, and found that the temperature was in fact changing just as the elf had said.

“How does that...” she held up her hand. “No, don’t tell me. Magic.”

“Magic and engineering, actually. My Lady spared no expense in building her home,” Violet explained. With that said, Violet began taking off her cuffs and apron, draping them over a nearby bar, which Celia surmised was built for the purpose.

“What are you doing?” Celia asked dully. Did that mean that Violet meant to show her... the earlier sparks of desire she successfully banished rushed right back with renewed vigor. This elven beauty was -yes, there goes the dress,— stripping in front of her. Celia stood stock still as Violet’s smooth shoulders were revealed as she pulled off her sleeves. No sign of muscle, despite the strength she had displayed. Pulling the bodice off revealed large creamy breasts, held and supported by some strange garment Celia had never seen before. She was considering asking, but it was discarded only seconds later, leaving Violet’s light pink nipples free. More of the elf’s tummy and waist were revealed as the dress moved lower, finally pooling by her feet. She kicked off the delicate slippers she wore, and was left standing with only a set of deep purple panties hiding her pussy from Celia’s suddenly hungry gaze. Celia noticed a moment too late where her eyes were locked, and how long she’d been looking, and looked up, hoping against hope that... no. Violet had seen where her gaze was, and only gave a small, mysterious smile in return. As if that hadn’t happened, she took off her panties and gestured into the water. “After you,” she said, infuriatingly without judgment.

The moment Celia stepped into the spray of water she let out an involuntary moan of pleasure. The water was warm! She had felt it with a finger, but feeling it over her body...It was wonderful, forcing everything else, the thought of the elf, the thought of her captivity...

Then the elf slipped in behind her and tapped a point on the wall, and a thin glass sheet slid out to enclose them in a steamy wet private space.

“I would have to be blind to ignore that look you gave, Celia,” Violet began gently. “Do you like women in that way?” She said the words without accusation, pushing Celia just a bit this way and that under the spray of water. She was in no condition to stop Violet with her mind in such a whirl.

“I... I...” The carefully controlled hold she kept on her desires was fractured and cracked as it was, and Violet had just come out and asked her! “I haven’t...” She pulled deep, drawing on her last reserves of will, and shut her eyes tight. “None of your business!” She huffed, turning away from Violet, for all the good it did.

The purple haired woman only continued softly running her hands up and down Celia’s arms. “My business alone?” She began, pausing to grab a sponge rich with a foamy lather before continuing. “You may well be correct there, but my Lady is very much of that mind.”

Celia swallowed hard, retreating a little into her thoughts as Violet expertly washed her body. The multitude of options for what lay in store for her seemed to spiral out, each one more uncertain and more worrying. The growing unease began to build in on itself and panic began to get the better of her. Doing her best to quell the rising tide of fear, a solution became obvious. She could simply ask Violet what laid in store.

But the question died on her lips upon seeing Violet again. The strange device creating the stream of water had decorated the elf’s skin with long, shiny wet trails. A particular droplet caught Celia’s eye as it meandered slowly across a full, inviting breast, then down across a stomach that had just a hint of muscle hidden under soft smooth skin. Eyes tracing Violet’s belly button, Celia was tempted to watch the droplet descend further when a delicate laugh brought her back to her senses.

“I’ve seen teenage human boys that stare with less hunger than that, Celia,” she teased very softly. “When you said you haven’t, did you mean recently? Or...” she trailed off, and Celia’s cheeks practically glowed with indignation and embarrassment.

“I said it was none of your business,” she growled out, covering her naked body with crossed arms, before turning away again and resolutely staring at the tile wall. “What is Gella planning with me?” She asked firmly, pointedly ignoring Violet beginning to scrub up and down her back.

“I will leave that to my Lady to share,” Violet said lightly. “If she plans on you joining our household, though, you can be assured of one thing.” Violet leaned in enough for Celia to feel the soft yielding warmth of Violet’s breasts against her own back. “You and I will have a chance to get to know each other as well as you wished.” She pressed a nearly chaste kiss to Celia’s shoulder. The warrior whirled around, hand raised to respond, but almost before she had fully turned her arm was effortlessly caught in Violet’s grip.

“How!?” Celia exclaimed. “How can a maid be that fast?!”

Violet gave her an appraising look, then released Celia’s arm. “I’ll tell you, if you quiet down and behave until I get you nice and clean.” Without waiting for Celia to answer, she resumed scrubbing away the accumulated grime. Celia sighed, and at least for the moment, surrendered to her ministrations. The water stayed the same wonderful warm temperature, and the soaps Violet was using had a subtle but pleasant smell. This isn’t so bad to lean into, I suppose. Violet began shampooing and cleaning her long hair, and that thought was reaffirmed. Whatever else lay in store -and she was certain there would be much, much more to worry about- this at least was truly a wonderful experience.

All too soon, Violet had finished cleaning every inch of Celia’s body, and turned off the flow of water. It felt strange, but undeniably wonderful, to be so clean. Before, she had been lucky to find a river or pond to bathe in, and those were invariably cold. Hot water and soap on command seemed an almost unthinkable luxury. Once the glass door opened and the steam cleared, Celia got a firm reminder of the price for that luxury. Gella had pulled a chair from somewhere, and was watching with obvious enjoyment. For a moment Celia thought to hide behind Violet, or perhaps cover herself the best she could with her hands, but a bit of fire caught and she fixed the mage with a cool glare instead.

“Getting a nice look?” She snarked. She had promised to behave, after all, not completely surrender.

Gella seemed to either not notice or care, because she simply nodded lightly. “Indeed, Celia. You’re a lovely woman.” The honesty blindsided Celia for a moment. Violet was unconcerned, continuing on toward a cabinet of some dark wood.

“Would you prefer a dress, or a tunic and leggings, Celia?” Before she could answer, Gella stood and walked over to the warrior with something metallic in her hands.

“Before we get our newest guest dressed...” she trailed off, and held up... Celia frowned deeply. The circlet in Gella’s hand was slim, delicate, and unmistakably a collar.

“No, no, no, no. Fuck that!” Celia stammered, backing away from Gella. Violet paused, slipping a towel around her body, a faintly amused smile on her lips. Gella merely arched her eyebrow before reaching out with her free hand and beckoning Celia forward. “Absolutely not. I’m not wearing a collar like your...”

She had meant to say slave. But it struck her, as she spoke, that in every way that mattered… That was exactly what she was. Gella had demonstrated her ability to steal her will away at least two different ways, and judging by the glowing rune on Violet’s forehead, there were probably several more. Violet didn’t even seem to care, taking everything with passivity and patience. All at once her strength crumpled as the reality of her situation set in. Grief and loss and fear rose up entwined, and the fire of her will was lost in the torrent. A hot prickling sensation stole over her eyes and before she could find the strength to stop herself she was openly crying.

Trying in vain to hide the tears, she turned away from both Gella and Violet. A moment later both women were at her side, sitting in the empty tub. There was a wide enough to sit on rim around the edge, which Celia gratefully sank into, Violet and Gella at either side. Violet remained silent, keeping close and softly running her hand up and down Celia’s arm. Gella, on the other hand, lightly grabbed Celia’s chin, turning it so the mage and the warrior locked eyes.

“Slow, deep, even breaths,” she said kindly, drawing in a deep breath for the warrior to mimic. Bereft of any other options, her mind far too muddled to argue, Celia followed along. After ten deep breaths in the silent room, Celia’s emotions had started to settle. Had that been a charm? A trick? How had her emotions calmed like that? It might merely have been the result of looking into Gella’s slate gray eyes the whole time. The mage was beautiful, she realized belatedly.

“Thanks.” She was suddenly self conscious of her situation, being essentially cuddled by a slave and baring her soul so openly to that slave’s mistress mage that had only moments ago tried to collar her.

“Of course, Celia,” Gella said smoothly. Glancing to the innocent looking circlet of silver still in her hand she carefully brought it up into Celia’s view, slowly, almost placatingly. “You were about to say you weren’t going to wear a collar like my slave, yes?” Her tone was open and curious. Was... she allowed to not?

“I... yes,” Celia admitted. It felt good to admit that, rather than trying to force the truth down. As if a weight had been loosened ever so slightly. Before she could further dwell on that, Gella shook her head and looked over at Violet.

“Go ahead and get a blouse and pants for Celia. Underwear too. Then you can join Tabby and Lauren for breakfast,” she ordered.

Violet stood and dipped her head in acknowledgment. Stepping over to the oddly small cabinet, she pulled out a dress for herself and a pile of garments which she left on top, silently dressed herself, and departed.

Celia moved to stand, but a hand from Gella on her shoulder stayed her. The mage didn’t even press, and for the moment Celia went along with the oddly enjoyable passivity. A fluffy, luxurious towel began to pass over her skin.

“The others will enjoy their breakfast while you and I have a talk, Celia,” Gella said calmly as she dried off the warrior. Celia began to turn around to face Gella, but a soft “head forward,” brought the blonde’s gaze back to the far tiled wall. It was off white, clean and shiny, easy enough to rest her eyes on.

“So,” she began, her mind a whirl of what to talk about with the woman that had kidnapped her and was currently gently drying her off. “Who are Tabby and Lauren?” Likely a neutral enough topic.

“Tabby is a cat-beastkin, and an impeccable cook. Lauren is a human priestess of Shala,” Gella explained. “Stand up,” she continued in the same even tone. Celia found herself obeying without much thought. While the mage worked on drying her off, Celia found the question she wanted to ask the most. “Why are you doing this?” Her voice was far softer than she expected, the fear of the answer a crushing weight.

“I can’t let you walk around dripping wet,” Gella answered smoothly and before Celia could respond to the obviously snarky answer the mage laughed softly. “You’ll have to be a bit more specific, Celia. Do you want to know why I took you, or why I’m treating you the way I do?”

“Both,” Celia blurted out.

“Very well, but I’m not giving the answer away for free.” Gella said softly, urging Celia to sit again. “An answer for an answer, that’s how the game is played.” Celia felt the mage behind her shift, and watched as her pale arm slipped past her own shoulder to point at the wall.

“Inntinneach,” Gella whispered sweetly, and a bloom of colored whirls and shapes blossomed from nowhere on the far tiled wall.

Celia shut her eyes as soon as she heard the strange mage-word leave Gella’s lips. “What... what did you do?” She asked, trying to hide how much Gella’s magic unnerved her. Twice she had felt Gella’s magic turned on her, and twice it had distorted or controlled her mind. Thrice, she realized, remembering the sense of utter bewilderment Gella had briefly infected her with. As if sensing her anxiety, Gella was quick to reassure her.

“It’s a spell to help you relax and let the truth flow more easily. All you have to do is open your eyes.” Gella’s words were honey sweet, and a large part of Celia wanted to believe her. But her warrior’s instincts flared, and denied the temptation, as hard as it was to do.

“No, Gella,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I don’t trust you. You’ve been kind to me, but you also kidnapped me and did... whatever it was you did to my mind before.”

If Gella were offended, it didn’t show at all in her smooth, even voice. “Very well. Nox.” A moment later, the warmth beside her was gone. She could hear footsteps and risked a tiny peek, but the swirls and whorls were gone. Gella returned bearing a pile of clothing. “Your armor is down in the smithy for maintenance, and the clothes you were wearing are being cleaned. These should fit perfectly, though,” Gella said, offering a free hand to help Celia stand. The warrior pointedly ignored it, which for some reason earned a smile from Gella. She said nothing, though and handed Celia the clothes.

Whatever else might be in store for her, Celia decided, the comforts of this place almost made it worthwhile. The panties fit like a dream, made of some soft smooth material Celia had never felt the like of before. With only a bit of assistance from a smirking Gella, Celia slipped on the same style of garment that Violet had worn over her breasts, a far, far more comfortable sensation than binding them. She finished off the ensemble with the loose blouse, and all told felt quite comfortable. Putting on a simple pair of slippers, she moved to look at her reflection in the mirror. The woman looking back at her was worlds apart from the woman who had woken up a day ago.

Her blonde hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders. Her skin had a clean, healthy look to it, and even the scar across her face looked less jagged. Leaning forward a little, she reached up to brush a fingertip across it, and was surprised to find how soft her skin felt. More magic, or just the result of thorough scrubbing? Glancing behind her reflection she saw Gella simply standing there and looking on appreciatively. She turned, giving the mage a sharp glare.

“A warm bath and some nice clothes doesn’t make up for kidnapping me.” She paused, and took a deep breath. “But... thank you,” she said with far less hostility. It was then that Celia’s eyes flickered back to the shiny circlet of metal, and she let out a groan.

“I hadn’t forgotten, my pretty knight. Either you wear this yourself, or you will wear it by my spellwork,” Gella stated calmly. The smile on her lips was infuriating, and a flurry of emotions rushed across Celia’s face until suddenly she hit on an idea.

“Answer one question for me, and I’ll put it on myself,” she challenged. Evidently, Gella hadn’t been expecting that, her expression quickly becoming calculating. After a moment, she met Celia’s eyes again.

“Alright. I’ll indulge you. One question.”

Nodding carefully, Celia stared into Gella’s eyes, watching for her reaction. “What are you planning on doing with me?”

Gella took in Celia for a long moment, seeming to consider the request. Then, she smiled.

“I’m going to tame you, Celia Evergleam,” she said earnestly. “You are going to be my champion and my consort. By the time I am done, you will eagerly and happily proclaim your sword, your heart, and your soul to me, and not a word of magic will be needed to compel that obedience.”

Though the words were delivered with no more change in tone then discussing an upcoming harvest, it was like hearing a death sentence. The smile on Gella’s lips and confidence in her posture left no doubt in Celia’s mind the mage meant every word, and had the means to carry it out. Swallowing hard, she accepted the offered collar, knowing that she might never take it off again as herself. With a soft click that felt far louder than it was, the circlet of silver was around Celia’s neck. “Good girl,” the mage cooed. “Now, let’s go get some breakfast.”