CHAPTER 8

“Soft,” Celia mumbled, stretching. Soft? What was… She blinked, but the dream slipped away like water through a sieve. But there was enough softness in the waking world to give her a general idea of what she’d been dreaming about.

It was an unfamiliar feeling, but hardly an unpleasant one, despite the rough bedding. Soft brown hair spilled down from the woman who was sharing her bed and holding her. Each breath a steady rise and fall, a subtle movement against Celia’s body.

Little bits of straw had worked their way free from the mattress over the night, and a couple pieces had gotten tangled in Lauren’s hair. It didn’t seem to bother the sleeping woman any, but on a whim, Celia carefully moved, trying not to wake her companion, to pluck the pieces free. The still-asleep priestess mumbled something incoherent, her grip growing stronger for just a moment. Celia couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

Sighing, unable to move – she wasn’t about to disturb someone so peaceful – she looked around at her room. It hadn’t changed since she’d left it, but it looked so much smaller now. Cair Dwemor’s opulence made what had previously been adequate feel almost suffocating. And she was painfully aware of the looming specter of the decision.

Suspicion and caution had kept her alive as a mercenary and as a warrior, but Lauren, and through her Gella, gave her pause. The option of just agreeing seemed more and more realistic. The woman beside her made a sleepy little noise of contentment, and Celia smiled warmly. Lauren seemed perfectly at ease around Gella. She had no trouble sharing her body, or her mind, and even seemed to welcome it and seek it out. She was at home at Cair Dwemor, for all its strangeness.

She had to make her choice. Cair Dwemor had everything she could ever want, but with the danger that her mind would be stolen and Gella’s promises would be for naught. Or, she could stay here in New Gyr. A mercenary warrior, holding on to her freedom. Freedom to waste your potential. Freedom to pick from a stacked deck, Gella’s voice echoed. For an absurd moment, she hated that the choice was being forced on her. Gella could just make her agree, and save her from all this.

That thought stopped her cold, and she shivered, despite the warm body lying against her. She hadn’t just thought that, right? Hadn’t, even for a second, wanted Gella to take control from her, right?

Scenarios began to play in her mind’s eye, and Celia found herself unsure if she even wanted to try and stop them. Would Gella use her rapier? No, not for this. She had said she wanted to test that, and it had been tested. Simpler to have Violet hold her. The impossibly strong elf could easily make sure Celia didn’t escape. Never mind what she could do with a needle. Then, with a damnably confident smile, Gella would snap her fingers twice. Celia sighed despite herself, the faint almost touch on her skin a reminder of how damn good it would feel. She hardly noticed her hand as it began to brush up and down her inner thigh.

Just two snaps, and Celia would sink back into that logic, where everything was simple. Where she could just do as she was told and be a good girl. She deserved to feel pleasure. The open wonderful Blue of the logic-trance would feel amazing, she knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt. Gella would weave her words expertly. It was hard to deny that the silver-haired mage knew her craft well. Just the right words, and all the conflict would go away. She gasped softly as her hand found its way to the growing heat between her legs, and pressed.

It wasn’t as if Gella, the fae, or even the beautiful woman dreaming beside her ever hurt her while she was… was controlled. Or charmed, or hypnotized, or whatever she’d call the strange docility the rapier had brought. The confusion spell had been the worst, and even that had only been a momentary thing. From the moment Gella had captured her, she had made sure Celia was comfortable and cared for. In a daze, Celia slipped her hand underneath her breeches, fingers gliding over the hair above her pussy, then further down. She groaned as she slipped two fingers inside.

She was so wet. The darkly tempting images her mind conjured continued. There was just so much to fantasize about! The wonderfully comfortable beds of Cair Dwemor would feel amazing, her body cradled in their softness while her mind was cradled in Gella’s palm. She had seen how tenderly Gella treated her Treasures. Would it feel as good as Tabby had implied? Her fingers curled inside her, hitting a deeper place she knew would send fire dancing across her mind.

Has this always felt this good? She bit her lip to stifle a moan, some distant part of her remembering not to disturb the peaceful rest of the adorable priestess she was sleeping with. She thought back to when she had let her desire through before. Moments she knew she was alone, bringing herself off as fast as possible to clear her mind. But that seemed so feeble, now. Pleasure wasn’t something to be discarded! It was something to be enjoyed, luxuriated in, shared! A shudder that had nothing to do with temperature rippled across her body, and she groaned, letting herself…

“Pleasant dreams?” A soft voice whispered in her ear.

Celia froze. She was caught. Lauren had seen her. She could pretend to be doing… what, exactly? What possible way was there to hide this? Stammering, she rolled over to face the grinning priestess, who was still holding her just as warmly. “No! I was – I just…” Celia tried to scramble away, but Lauren’s grip held fast, and she quieted the warrior with a finger to her lips.

“Celia. You can relax,” she assured her. Celia was stunned. Not only had she been caught but… She slumped slightly, as she realized her mistake. Lauren had told her as much. Sex was just a part of life at Cair Dwemor. The priestess grabbed her hand, pointing towards where it had just been.

“Celia,” Lauren chided. “You don’t need to hide this anymore. Not if you’re with us.” She was so soft. So wonderfully, amazingly gentle. Fingertips caressed Celia's neck and she arched into them, desperate for the contact, for more. Warm soft lips replaced fingers, kissing a trail to Celia’s ear. “Say stop, and I will. Promise.” She needed to, this was getting overwhelming, but… but… She could drop her guard completely. She was with someone she trusted, and wanted to share pleasure with. She could just focus on that pleasure.

The hesitation wasn’t swept away, not exactly. But she could push it aside, ignore it. She had a beautiful woman with her. Swallowing, she turned to meet the next kiss with her lips. “Okay,” she muttered. “You win.”

That was all Lauren needed. She pulled the hand she was holding up, entwining her pale fingers with Celia’s tanned ones. With a sultry smile, she ran her tongue along each digit, maintaining eye contact as she did. Then, she giggled, almost condescendingly but not quite, and somehow that felt right?

“Take off your shirt, Celia.” Her voice was sweet, as caring as ever, but the soft yet firm command was obvious. Was she really so weak as to… Apparently so, as her hands moved to grab the hem of her shirt, lifting it over her head.

“Good girl,” Lauren purred. Her gaze swept the warrior’s body, warm brown eyes sparkling with anticipation. The chill morning air was raising goosebumps on her arms, at odds with the warmth of those words. This… This wasn’t right. She was a warrior! She wasn’t some soft… She sighed, the thought lost as Lauren’s warm palm cupped her breast.

Lauren eased Celia back with a light pressure on her chest. She smiled down at the flushed warrior, then stepped off the bed and shimmied out of her simple dress, leaving her in only cream-colored panties. Kneeling by Celia, she undid the laces on the warrior’s breeches, carefully tugging them down a few inches. “If anything starts to feel bad, just let me know. Alright?”

Celia nodded, slipping her hand over her breast to roll her stiff nipple between thumb and forefinger. She writhed over the rough blanket, feeling it scrape across her skin with a strangely pleasant tingle. She tried again to shake off her passivity. It wasn’t as if the fire was absent. In fact, being absent would have helped her fight it. Her skin was practically alight, each touch sending sparks of pleasure through her. Why did it feel so damned good to just let Lauren take the lead?

The priestess continued to tug her breeches down slowly, planting a soft kiss on each bit of Celia’s thighs she exposed. With a final pull, Celia was as naked as Lauren was, just in that supporting garment and her underwear. Then, those were slipped off too, leaving Celia bared before her. The mattress shifted just a bit as Lauren turned, guiding Celia’s body to lay against hers. The hot, plush softness of her breasts pushed against the warrior’s back.

“You are so pretty,” Lauren whispered in Celia’s ear. Another kiss against her neck, then Lauren reached around to pull the warrior into a hug against her heated body. “Just relax. You don’t need to do anything. I’ll guide you.”

Celia relaxed into Lauren’s touch. “Feels so good,” she murmured, gasping softly when Lauren’s feather-soft touch grazed her tummy. The tender caress left a ripple of pleasure behind it. “Please,” she whispered. Her voice was so soft, so needy, so weak. She wanted to sound strong, to take charge… but this warm heavy softness was just too wonderful to not sink into.

“Something bothering you?” Lauren’s voice sent shivers along Celia’s spine, and she arched her back as a particularly strong tremor passed through.

“I, mmm, fuck. Making me feel soft. I need to be strong.” There. She found words.

“Soft?” Celia shuddered as warm breath passed over her ear, then moaned as Lauren brushed a fingertip over the very edge of Celia’s pussy. Then she repeated the motion, trailing delicate fingers with faint, tantalizing pleasure. Celia squirmed against Lauren, turning her head into a desperate kiss. All her strength, and Lauren could control her with just the tip of her fingers. “Do you like feeling soft?” She continued. “Don’t think about other times, Celia. Don’t worry about anything else. Right here, right now. Do you like feeling soft?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to find the answer. “No! Maybe, fuck… yes?” She moaned, unsure what was the answer but knowing she wanted to feel more of this. It was amazing to just let go, to be soft for a moment, and let this gorgeous woman care for her. Her conflicts weren’t as important as just experiencing this. She wanted to warp herself in the hazy softness and drink deeply of it. “I do. I, I want to be soft like this. With you,” she confessed, shuddering in pleasure at the idea.

“Mmmm. Alright. Then you can just sink back, and be as soft as you like.” Heat rose at those words, suffusing her body. It was utterly different from the frantic, fearful heat of Gella’s demonstration. This was a pure heat, somehow soothing, that she felt completely safe indulging in. Being with Lauren felt safe, wonderful, and she just let herself go, fading into the pleasure she could share.

The moments after shattered into pure sensation. Touches melted to kisses, and kisses back into touches. She writhed and shimmied and groaned while the pleasure built. A voice, a question, one that needed a clear answer, a yes, and she was brought to the edge. Held there for one spine-tingling tense moment, then it all came crashing out, her cries of delight swallowed by a gentle kiss.

Moments passed, and the heat began to ebb. The world still swam, shattered pieces of pleasure and joy and warmth. Then, things seemed to resolve themselves, and she was back in Lauren’s arms, comfortable despite that uncomfortable bed. Her hair was being stroked, and gentle words of praise drifted past her consciousness. She curled up in Lauren’s lap, sighing.

“That was… nice,” she smiled dreamily.

Lauren just smirked, and Celia rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine. Way better than nice. Fantastic, even.”

Lauren chuckled. “I thought so. You deserve to feel good, you know.” Lauren sighed. She cupped Celia’s cheek, her hand still flush with heat.

Looking at the little trails of sweat on Lauren’s brow, and the way she was biting her lip almost unconsciously, Celia felt a little bad that she had been the only one getting any pleasure. It had to be shared, after all. And Lauren was still very, very turned on.

Celia felt a sudden stab of apprehension. Lauren was clearly very skilled, having expertly coaxed sensations from Celia she had never felt before with barely a bit of effort. Her own skills… feeble didn’t even begin to describe them. Still, she wasn’t one to shy away from a challenge. Moving to the other end of the bed, she turned to give the priestess a shy look. “I, um, don’t really…" She trailed off, a hopeful expression on her lips.

Lauren giggled softly, and Celia relaxed. Did she really think Lauren was going to judge her? The priestess beckoned her, and Celia dove in, closing her eyes in anticipation.

Thud.

“Fuck!” Lauren cried, scrambling back as Celia did the same, both of them instinctively resting a hand on their forehead.

The priestess winced, then managed a teasing half-smile. “Now, Celia, I don’t know if you know this? But I don’t think that’s what mind-blowing sex is.”

Despite the pain – it wasn’t that bad, it was fading quickly, it had just been sharp – she found herself giggling. Lauren joined in, and soon, the moment of tension had broken just as quickly as it’d started.

“Sorry,” Celia grimaced. “I…”

Lauren shook her head. With a whispered “guerissons,” the pain faded completely, and she looked up with a much brighter smile. “It’s fine.”

The warrior turned away, embarrassed, then started as Lauren grabbed her in a warm hug. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” Lauren reassured her. “You were just enthusiastic. And no harm done.”

The warm playful tone helped ease the sting of embarrassment. A smile as wide as any crept across her face, and she turned her head. Lauren froze, then relaxed, and started laughing. “Comfy?”

“Menace,” Celia replied, muffled by the priestess’s chest. She gave a halfhearted mock punch, which Lauren took with exaggerated motion.

“I yield, I yield!" She cried, then collapsed, both of them devolving back into uncontrollable giggles.

After the laughter faded, there was a quiet, comfortable moment between them. “Lauren, I… thanks,” Celia said earnestly, smiling at her companion. “For being… well, for being you.”

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They got dressed, and headed towards the Ravenswood guild hall. Lauren had insisted on casting a spell that cleaned them off, but it had been extremely uncomfortable when applied to skin. Which did not help her mood any.

“What do you mean, Festus left?!” Celia growled. Savak, the dark skinned quartermaster for the Ravenswood Company, just shook his head.

“It’s the war, Celia,” he said apologetically. “His Majesty is offering twice what he made slinging sparkwater for us. Every alchemist in the whole of Remere is signing up!”

Celia shut her eyes tight and resisted the urge to slam the table. It wasn’t the quartermaster’s fault. Without an alchemist on site the guild was heavily rationing potions, and Sharpen Mind, as a potent protection potion, was chief among them. Without a guild quest that had a known danger of something affecting her mind, she wouldn’t be able to get one.

With a halfhearted thanks to Savak, Celia sat down next to Lauren. “They can’t give me one. Our alchemist took off to go work for the King, I guess. War’s on, and he pays better.”

Lauren considered that. “Well, if it’s just a matter of money…" She mused.

Celia closed her eyes and tried to picture the city. In the three years she had lived here, she only had reason to visit the craftsman’s quarter a handful of times. The guild was more than enough as an intermediary, usually. And beyond that, while the tinkerers and enchanters made amazing devices and potions, the cost was enough to deter her. The only bit of artifice she had ever carried was the charm she’d used against Gella. But… she glanced at the coin purse Lauren had given her, and smiled. I’m not the one paying, am I?

“You’re right, Lauren. Let’s find an alchemist. There has to be one in this city willing to take our coin.”

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Lauren’s hands on Celia’s shoulders were certainly helping to alleviate her growing stress, but weren’t nearly enough to banish it. They had ended up back in her room, a fresh bun and some apples purchased as a light brunch. “How? How can every alchemist in the city be booked?” She groaned between bites.

“If the royal army really is paying double,” Lauren supplied with a gentle smile, “it only makes sense they would all be eager to take the money.” She pressed into a knot of tension, and Celia hissed in pain, then sighed as the priestess worked the knot free.

They had been to three alchemists. Each one had given her some variation of “dreadfully sorry, but we can’t help.” She had offered over twice the asking price for a single dose of Sharpen Mind, and still they had refused her. The royal army had them all under contract. The Lord Sorcerer was apparently sending scouting forces further south, and anything and everything the kingdom had to offer was now being earmarked for the war effort.

She had seen it at Armorer’s Street as well. Men and women wearing the regalia of the Royal Army had been swarming the street, talking to smiths and exchanging contracts. She’d even seen a few faces she recognized from Ravenswood – apparently the veterans were being rewarded generously for re-enlisting.

Maybe Krisk will join up again. The thought of that bear of a man barreling through whatever the Lord Sorcerer was conjuring brought a smile to her lips. Then a curious pain sparked in her chest, and for a brief moment the scar on her face flared. She winced, reaching to touch the old wound.

“You know, I can probably heal that scar,” Lauren offered. “It would take time, probably a few weeks, and I’d need potions to support my magic, but I-”

“No!” Celia shouted, whirling around to glare at Lauren. The thought of losing her scar tightened her chest, and for an instant she felt a sweltering, painful pulse of heat. She shut her eyes tight, trying to force the feelings away reflexively. She still could, but it was much, much harder. The dark places in her mind that she’d shoved things away into felt so loose and flimsy.

She opened her eyes, and her heart fell when she saw Lauren’s look of concern. Breathing deliberately, she pushed the pain away. “Sorry,” she mumbled, turning away again. “Just… my scar. It’s important.”

Lauren shifted closer, going back to work on Celia’s shoulders. “Tell me about it?” She asked softly.

A small part of her wanted to give as good as Lauren had, promising to tell her everything when they got back to Cair Dwemor. Er… when they… when she… She grimaced. That still needed to be decided, and without a dose of Sharpen Mind to ensure the decision was her own, she was no closer to being able to make it.

“I will, if I return with you. On the trip back,” she promised.

There was a firm knock on the door, and both of them jumped, then looked at each other in confusion. Did anyone besides the candle maker even know where she lived? “Who is it?" She asked cautiously.

“Message fer ya!" A young voice called back in return. Opening the door revealed a young boy in courier’s garb, no more than ten or so. “You’d be Celia, ain’t cha? Them that’s running about looking fer that potion?”

“I might be. Who wants to know?” She wasn’t worried about the kid, but someone had to have sent the message. Someone who had not only noticed she was asking about the potion, but had followed her to see where she lived. Her instincts about danger flared up. She’d have to move shop, find another place to rent. Or, I could just take the contract, and be at Cair Dwemor. Gella would never let me come to any harm there, her mind supplied unhelpfully.

“Well, I’ve gots a message fer ya if you are, abouts an alchemist, what has it.” Celia considered that. She needed the potion, and she was running out of options.

“I’m her,” she finally replied.

The child nodded. “The lady alchemist wants ya to meet ‘er out by Southgate. She’s all cloaked up and hiding in the shadows, like as not. You’ll know er when ya sees er, I bet!" He finished, holding out his hand expectantly with a toothy grin. Celia rolled her eyes, reaching for her coin purse, then stopped. A dragon would be more than this boy would see in a year. And even if couriers generally didn’t swindle – bad for business – that was a lot of money to put on faith.

“Lauren, do you have a Claw on you?” She asked in what she hoped was a nonchalant way. She caught Lauren’s eyes, then flicked her gaze to the pouch.

Lauren inclined her head slightly, then pulled a silver Claw out of her bag. She pressed it into the boy’s hands, and he bolted away.

“What do you want to bet it’s an alchemist looking to fleece me?” Celia snorted. “If our lady alchemist asks for less than three Dragons for the potion, I’ll be shocked.”

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Whoever the alchemist was, Celia had to admit she knew how to cultivate an air of mystery. The woman waiting by the gate was wearing earth toned, well worn clothes, with no gaudy designs or jewelry, and she had a backpack which painted her as some kind of traveler. Though most travelers did not take great care to skulk in the shadows so obviously, let alone hide their face in a cowl and move from shadow to shadow to avoid other people.

Lauren and Celia both stood watching the display for a long moment. “She, umm… looks the part?” Lauren offered sheepishly. “Very good cloak, really sells it. Could use a few more daggers, though!”

Celia groaned, partially at the joke and partially at the woman’s antics. If she kept it up for too much longer, someone was probably going to call the guards. “Well, we should at least see what she’s offering.”

The mystery woman saw them both approaching, and immediately adopted a laid back posture that might have been convincing if they hadn’t seen her before, and didn’t look terribly comfortable given the woman’s backpack. “You,” she intoned, then winced. “The wom… err, the gir… um.” As she spoke, her tone pitched down. Was she trying to sound more world weary, or maybe seem like a man?

“Yes,” Celia said, shaking her head. “You can stop all of…" She trailed off, waving generally in the alchemist’s direction.

“Not yet,” the woman growled, then looked left and right in an unguarded way that no self-respecting rogue would ever be caught dead doing – and they would have been caught by then. “Okay. The coast is clear. Come with me.” With that, she scurried off, giving Celia and Lauren a clear view of why she had been avoiding people, as she bumped into no less than three people as she tried to move nimbly with that backpack, apologizing in that affected gravelly voice to each.

With a disbelieving glance at the priestess, a shrug, and a sigh, Celia set off to follow her.

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They had barely gone a hundred yards behind her before she turned sharply, going a short way into a copse of trees, then pulled out a length of wood. Celia’s hand was on her sword in an instant. This woman’s behavior had been nothing but strange, and she wasn’t about to have a wand pointed at her.

The hooded woman didn’t seem to notice, and the wand was turned downwards, not at her, and suddenly new trees sprung around them, creating a small isolated clearing. Swinging a hand through one of them, Celia noted they were just illusions, but quite good ones. “Prepare yourselves,” the woman said, now back to her normal tone. She threw off her cloak in a dramatic way revealing… a human woman with emerald green hair. Not the strangest shade she’d ever seen, but usually only elves had those brilliant gemstone hues.

“I apologize for the deception!" She declared. “For it was necessary to employ a spot of skullduggery in order to arrange our meeting. Even now, many and varied parties seek me for purposes both unseemly and unsavory!” When that failed to produce a reaction beyond a raised eyebrow from Celia and a slight tilt of the head from Lauren, she shook her head. “I’m hiding out.”

That made sense. She didn’t know the precise rules of the Alchemy guild, but if they found she was selling on the side for herself, a fine at the least was probably in her future. “Well, thank you for being willing to help, Miss…?” Celia trailed off encouragingly.

“Oh, but wherever are my manners?” The woman said in a far less grandiose voice. “I am Cassidy Crane. Alchemist, tinkerer, and mage extraordinaire!” She struck her hands on her hips and thrust out her chest, displaying…

Well, displaying the shape of a pair of absolutely massive breasts. No wonder she was bumping into people on the way there. They were practically the size of the girl’s head, each! How did that even happen? How was her back not an unending source of nightmarish pain?

It took a polite cough from Cassidy to snap Celia back to her senses. Had she been openly staring at… Yes. She had. From the blush on Cassidy’s cheeks, it was clear she had been doing it blatantly, too. Fucking fae, she growled to herself, before fixing her features back into a smile. A smile which then fell quickly. An alchemist who had exactly what they’d need, and beyond that, a mage?

She turned on Lauren and crossed her arms. “Lauren,” she whispered warningly. “I might be just a bit paranoid here, but,” she pointed at Cassidy, who now had a very confused look on her face. “She seems very, very convenient.”

Lauren rolled her eyes, and didn’t even bother to whisper back. “Celia, people can have strange colored hair.”

“So you’ve never met her before? She’s not a…” Celia pursed her lips. “‘mutual friend?’”

“Um, sorry, who are we talking about?” Cassidy interjected. “I’ve never met either of you before. I’m sure I would remember a drop dead gorgeous brunette and a pretty girl with such a distinctive scar. Though your hair is enchanted, so maybe I have met you before?” It seemed to take a few moments for her own words to catch up to her. She winced in embarrassment, and gave each of them a shy smile. “I mean… fuck, I screwed that up. You’re both very pretty. I would remember meeting you before. Even with the hair.”

Well, if she was a secret agent of Gella, Cassidy was doing a very poor job of maintaining a low profile. Still… Gella was clever, and she couldn’t rule it out. “Lauren, could you… swear that you haven’t met her before? For my peace of mind.”

Lauren smiled brightly and nodded. “Of course, Celia. Happy to.” She swung her hand out, intoned “confirme la verite,” and a faint circle appeared around her as it had last night. “I, Lauren DuMare, Daughter of Mercy, swear before my Lady Shala that I have never knowingly met or interacted with Cassidy Crane before.” The same distant bell chime, and then silence. No divine wrath.

That silence shattered almost instantly as Cassidy nearly bowled Lauren over in excitement. “You’re Touched?!" She exclaimed. “How long have you been training? Were you Talented beforehand? Is Shala your only patron deity, or do you draw your ragira from several of them? Have you ever fallen from a patron’s grace? If you have, did you get it back? Do you have to do something super special to get it back?!” Lauren blinked, taken aback by the sheer volume of questions. “Ooooh! Lucky me, I have soo many questions, and – ack!”

She cut off as Celia gently but firmly pulled her away. “Maybe don’t ask a priestess if she has ever fallen from grace five minutes after meeting them?” She hissed.

Cassidy looked very confused for a long moment, then winced again. “That was a very rude thing to ask, wasn’t it?” She looked over at Lauren, who only smiled.

“It’s alright. You were just excited,” she said warmly. “But we were here for a dose of Sharpen Mind?”

“Right! Right, right,” Cassidy snapped her fingers, seemingly remembering the reason she had brought them all here outside the city. “So. I may not exactly be a fully fledged member of the alchemists guild… or any kind of member, really.” When she saw the looks on Celia and Lauren’s face she held her hands out in front of her. “I mean, I know my stuff! I’ve passed all the tests! Fully fledged, just… in Abania.”

“You’re imperially trained?” Lauren frowned. “I thought that once you took imperial training, it was a job for life.” She peered curiously at the large pack Cassidy had with her.

“You’re a runaway, aren’t you?” Celia noted, the secrecy making a lot more sense now. She had only heard bits and pieces about the mountainous Abanian Empire, but the one thing everyone knew is that they get a much much tighter grip on magic than here in Remere. “Can’t say I blame you, if rumors are anything to go by.”

Cassidy beamed, and gave Celia a warm hug. “Thank you! It’s so nice to meet people that understand.” Celia returned the hug a little awkwardly, but the alchemist didn’t seem to notice. “Now, let's get you that potion. Worried about someone messing with your head? Oh! Are you headed off to do battle with a vampire or something?”

Celia smirked. “Something like that.” The alchemist nodded and unslung her pack. Then pulled out a full sized table, a little cauldron, and several glass beakers. Celia couldn’t help but gape. “You have a no-space too?”

Cassidy looked at her in confusion. “A what?” Then, she followed Celia’s gaze, and her eyes lit up. “Oh! You’ve seen extra-dimensional storage before! That’s a good name for it. I like it. No-space. It’s the only way I could have gotten all my equipment and stuff with me, see! I have a whole lab's worth of equipment in here, and it never spills or anything, and takes ages to spoil. Even the stuff I’ve been experimenting on, like,” she dug back in, producing a small white ball that looked a lot like the smoke balls Celia had used in the past. “This is a small deviation from the common hold spell, area of effect, it’s a very small area right now but I figure if I can apply it to the base spell it could be a life saver for travelers that get beset by brigades!” Celia blinked, but Cassidy had already set it down.

More devices were pulled out, and she excitedly explained each one. There were other devices to stun, modified for various means of restraining movement. Devices to ensnare, summoning spectral rope or containing rope inside the spell somehow. Some little things that, according to Cassidy, could be mixed with water and used to polish metals to a mirror sheen, and apparently had interesting effects on crystal refraction, whatever that was. The pile of inventions grew, and Cassidy hardly seemed to notice the original ball as it rolled closer and closer to the edge of the table. At the last second she glanced down and had just enough time to dart her hand forward, but the little ball spun off her fingers, sailing through the air until it landed right at Celia’s feet and Flash.

Celia went completely still. She couldn’t move. Wouldn’t move. Wasn’t allowed to move. Was this what Cassidy meant when she said a small deviation? This wasn’t like any hold spell she’d been hit with before. She knew it was a spell, knew she was being controlled, but that knowledge made no difference. She was not allowed to move. She was trapped in her own body, like that first night with Gella, but this time she couldn’t move at all, not just moving when ordered to. She tried forcing her body to move, but she wasn’t allowed to. Her breathing picked up – so one thing was still somewhat in her control – getting more shallow and panicked. She darted her eyes around – another thing she was allowed to move – and saw Cassidy look at her in shock, then Lauren’s gentle touch on her arm.

“Can you hear me? Blink once for no, twice for yes.” Lauren’s voice was soft and gentle, and Celia focused on it like a lifeline. The same voice that had entranced her so sweetly and comfortably was her anchor again. She was allowed to blink, so she did, twice. Cassidy slumped to the floor, tension draining out of her. “Wonderful. Just take a few deep breaths, Celia. Follow along with me.” She took in a deep slow breath, and Celia followed her guide. She took in air when Lauren did, holding it for as long as she did, letting it all slowly stream out of her nose. A few more repetitions, controlling one of the few things she could still control, and the panic had subsided to a manageable level. She was still trapped in her own body, but Lauren was there with her. And she had been in Lauren’s words before. She couldn’t smile, her face was locked in a passive expression, but she found Lauren’s warm brown eyes with her own and blinked twice.

“I’m so sorry!” Cassidy half-shouted from the floor. Lauren moved out of Celia’s line of sight, but slipped her hand into the warrior’s so she could still feel her presence. She tried with all her might to at least squeeze back a little, but it was no use. She wasn’t allowed to. Unbidden and unwanted, a flash of arousal arced along Celia’s spine. Even if it was terrifying, even if in any other circumstance it would be the exact opposite of sexy… she was in Lauren’s power, at her mercy.

“I’m such a klutz!” Caissidy said in exasperation. “Really, really, I’m really sorry, Celia!” The alchemist had put her pack on the table and was pulling out all manner of devices. A few wands were pulled out, glared at intently, then thrown back into the no-space without another comment. “It’s a modified basic hold spell, I took the physical inability to move and tried to make it interact as a mental aspect so I could play with space more easily,” she explained while her hands moved in a blur, connecting bits of glassware and metal together. “It won’t last long and there are no side effects, I know, I tested it on myself a bunch of times, and oh I’m just so sorry, Celia!” She took a deep gulp of air, almost on the edge of panic herself.

Seeing the rush of panic overtake Cassidy doused the rising fear that this was some plot to ensnare her. The woman was odd – very odd – but the panic at trapping Celia seemed so genuine. And she wasn’t doing anything to exploit it. It was an accident, nothing more. But it being accidental didn’t stop her mind from gleefully indulging in fantasies though. It only spurred them on, knowing she was safe, that Lauren had her. She swallowed hard automatically, and she knew her skin was starting to flush.

“I think she might be getting a little overheated. Let’s get her into the shade,” Cassidy said, thankfully misinterpreting the flush on Celia’s cheek. She was about to blink a no, but the alchemist had already grabbed her around the midsection, pressing her breasts into the back of Celia’s head. It… it was only a short distance, wasn’t it? And there was no reason to confuse the flustered alchemist any more than she already was.

While she wasn’t allowed to move a single muscle on her own, Celia found that her body wasn’t rigid, either. They moved her like a doll, and between the two of them managed to arrange her body to be laying down with her head in Lauren’s lap. It was… oddly nice. Only the circumstances kept it from being terrifying, being with a woman she trusted, and only under the spell by accident.

“You should be able to dispel the effect on her, Lauren,” Cassidy said, after a moment spent looking at Celia through the glass device she had cobbled together. “It’s not terribly high powered.” Then she paused, grinning widely. “Or! You can leave the spell on her, and we can dispel it with Sharpen Mind, as a proof of effectiveness! It’s a mental effect, after all. I can brew double, but won’t charge you for two. Consider it my apology!” Without waiting for an agreement, she set up her tools and went to work.

“Does that work for you, Celia?” Lauren asked, turning Celia’s head to meet hers. She waited patiently while the warrior blinked twice. There were far worse fates than spending some time in the shade laying her head in a pretty girl’s lap. Being held completely immobile wasn’t ideal, despite the faint seductive wisps of fantasy that curled off the desire that burned deep in her mind. Lauren’s fingers started idly trailing through Celia’s hair, and she flicked her gaze to Lauren’s in confusion. “Oh! Sorry, just… when Tabby lays in my lap like this I…” She trailed off with an embarrassed smile. “I’ll stop.”

A firm blink. “No? You don’t want me to stop?” Two blinks, and Lauren laughed gently. “Okay.” The soft fingers returned to petting Celia's hair. It was a wonderful sensation, and a way to keep her focused on the here and now, she rationalized. Just another way that circumstance played its role. There were a thousand ways this should have terrified her, she knew. A thousand ways being this helpless ran counter to her whole self image as a warrior. But none of them were happening. She had the oath to protect her. She wasn’t in any danger, and should some danger suddenly arise Lauren could free her with a few words. And Cassidy hadn’t even meant to trap her. It was an accident.

Unable to speak, and without much currently to occupy her limited range of vision, she let her eyes slip shut. The looming choice took front and center in her mind’s eye. What am I afraid of if I return? Being enslaved, obviously. Is that likely to happen? That was a far less easy answer. Gella had only used the word slave once, and she had apologized for it. What she was insistent on taming Celia. That apparently included expert training, magical arms and armor, and staying in what amounted to a palace. It would also include, she thought with a spark of unease, more control being slipped around her mind. Control that was subtler than magic, because Gella had claimed she intended to not need magic to compel her when she was done.

That was the linchpin. The central obstacle. Even the thought of sharing her body with the beautiful women of Cair Dwemor had lost its sting. No, more than that, it had… become something she wanted. Memories of that morning, how expertly Lauren had brought her to bliss, swirled in her mind. But doing it while her mind was…

Her first thought was chained, like Gella had chained her mind that first night, but that was hardly accurate. There are… gradients to these things. The mind rarely is black and white. Gella’s words. The words of the very woman taming her, but the words of a woman that was an expert on the subject. What would Gella do to successfully tame her? She had proved to be reasonable, proved to care deeply for her Treasures. Gradients. It hardly sounded like slavery. It sounded like, well… like a job, almost. A job with side benefits.

That thought hit home. A farmer wasn’t enslaved to his crops, but he had to tend them all the same. No one would call a farmer a slave. A smith wasn’t the slave of his forge, a seamstress to her loom. Something hot and seductive bubbled up in Celia’s thoughts. If it was all the right circumstances… if it was with the right people and the right place, would even being a slave be… There was a jolt of pain, hot and sharp and echoing with screams. Her body didn’t so much as flinch, but the warrior quickly turned her thoughts away. So not everything was open after the fae meddling.

“All done!” Cassidy crowed. Lauren helped her sit up, and Cassidy tipped the brew down Celia’s throat. She swallowed reflexively. A moment later, and her mind became more real, more defined. She was still not allowed to move, but there was no reason she had to go along with that. A tiny part of her insisted she could, if she wanted to, but that would be entirely different. And after a moment, even those traces of the compulsion faded.

Coughing a little to clear her throat, Celia nodded at both of the women around her. “Thank you, Cassidy. And don’t worry about the accident.” Cassidy breathed a sigh of relief. “If you’re willing to do me a favor?”

“Anything! Name it!” Cassidy said eagerly.

“Cast a detection spell on me? I want to know if there is anything affecting me right now other than the potion.”

“Easily done.” Cassidy extended her hand toward Celia. “Lorg geasa.” Cassidy’s eyes shimmered with power for a moment, and she peered at Celia intently. For a moment she simply stared, then urged Celia to stand, walking in a slow circle around the warrior. The motion did interesting things to her chest. “Nope! You’ve got a sharpened mind, and that’s it. Not a bit of magic besides.”

This was it then. She was as certain as she could be that she was making this choice of her own free will. Cair Dwemor, for at least the next year. Training, companionship, luxury, and magic, but also mental control and walking the path toward being tamed by Gella. Or back to New Gyr. Familiar, routine, dull, without a hint of convenience or… or Lauren’s smile. She could get training, find swordmasters, maybe even get some semblance of luxury with the fortune she now had. But she would never find another Lauren.

The images of Vi and Tabby flowed across her mind. If Lauren were this full of life, full of personality, far more than she had seen on the surface, could the other two be as well? She had seen glimpses of that in Violet already. Aside from how beautiful she found them, and how much she wanted to share a bed with them, she was looking forward to learning about them. She hadn’t even noticed she had tears in her eyes until Cassidy handed her a slightly grease stained rag.

“Lauren. I’ve made my choice,” she said firmly, earning an attentive look from the priestess, and a confused one from the alchemist. “Let’s go get my stuff packed. I’ll be returning with you.”

It was a huge choice, and Celia wasn’t entirely certain in making it. But as Lauren gripped Celia in a tight, warm embrace, she decided it was, at the very least, a good bet.

________________

They parted ways with Cassidy after the alchemist had spent another few minutes profusely apologizing, and she had only asked for a single dragon, which she said was near material cost for two doses. In the end, there was no harm done. Cassidy insisted on passing a little enameled token, which she said could be broken to alert her if her services were ever needed. Celia slipped it into her coinpurse. Knowing an alchemist that could brew mind-protecting potions – one who was a mage entirely outside Gella’s influence – might come in handy.

Putting a hold at the guild had been met with both cheers and congratulations. A long term contract with a noble lady was something to be celebrated, after all. She wouldn’t need to hunt for jobs, had her room and board taken care of, from their point of view, Celia had the world’s best stroke of luck. And on the whole, she even agreed with them. Now that the choice had been made, Celia found it much easier to get swept up in the festivities, and accepted a mug of ale for a farewell toast.

Her account was cleared, another ten Claws added to her growing wealth, and she was walking with Lauren back to the room to pack away her trunk. She had just passed into the candlemaker’s shop when the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Something was wrong. She held up her hand to stop Lauren and looked intently around the empty storefront.

Outside, farmers were bringing in grain, merchants hawking wares, and people were generally milling about. Nobody else was in the store. No one seemed to be paying her or Lauren the slightest bit of attention. She held still for another minute, but the sensation had passed.

“What was it?” Lauren asked, looking around as well.

“Just for a second, I thought I was being watched.” She continued to look around, eventually shaking her head.

“Maybe it was the fae?” Lauren offered.

Celia closed her eyes.

________________

“Maybe.” She shook her head, trying to clear it from a sudden bout of vertigo. She really needed to sit down. But either way, it didn’t seem likely. Deborah and Samuel were many things, but subtle they were not.

Lauren returned it and grinned back. “Well, it’s probably fine. And more importantly, you should keep your guard up when we get back home.” Her grin turned a little mischievous. “We don’t know how many kisses Tabby is going to demand for your welcome pounce, after all.”

The mental image of a naked, excited Tabby pouncing her to the ground and refusing to let her up sent a wave of delicious soft heat through Celia’s body. “I’ll put a dragon on more than five, less than ten.”

“Deal! Come on, Celia, let's go home.”

Celia looked out the window. How had it gotten so late already? At her prompting, Lauren packed Celia’s trunk in the no-space, and Celia said goodbye to the dingy little room. A short while later they were on Windstrider’s back and soaring through the afternoon sky, back toward Cair Dwemor. Back toward Home.