“What?!” exclaimed Delilah. “This is why mages have a terrible reputation!”

“He did say he would be back to ask for more jobs,” Maeve said, sheepish. “And he was apologetic.”

Those were both lies -- Castian had said nothing remorseful, but it was hard enough to come back to the guild with no coin and her metaphorical tail between her legs. She was exhausted, and she wasn’t sure how she’d respond if all of the members started on a tirade against him, or blacklisted him. For all she knew, this was one of the primary ways that he could get in contact with her.

Delilah was still annoyed, and Haggr was talking her down, reminding her that this did happen occasionally, that it was just unfortunate luck…

Luck. Something that was appearing in her life in spades. Whether it was good or bad, she couldn’t tell. Maeve couldn’t help but think back to the coin toss -- what would have happened differently if she hadn’t won, if Castian had stuck to the bet and said that that was the end of their play? Would he truly have dropped everything? Did he have some trick, some game to degrade her and make her beg to continue?

“Too bad, Maeve,” Grant sneered. “Looks like you’ll have to earn your keep the hard way like the rest of us.”

“I have no problem with that,” Maeve said, but although he didn’t know it, his words were reflecting off of the memory of her own bad choice, and her chest felt heavy and warm.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he postponed as an excuse,” he continued with a grin. “An elf girl with a dagger and some darts? Hardly looks like someone who can handle the alchemical and arcane. I should have gone after all.”

She wished so desperately that she could tell him that she did brew the potions with him, that she was skilled, but there was no way without breaking the lie and exposing herself.

“Because a brutish half-orc with an axe looks better,” Delilah said, cross. “Come on, Maeve. Let’s go for some liquor tonight. You never socialize outside of your work.”

Maeve was tired, but truthfully, she could use a drink and some time that wasn’t alone with her thoughts.

“Alright,” she said.

“We can even go to the Noble Dove, if you want,” Delilah said, and flashed her a grin. “So you can just stumble up to bed when I out-drink you.”

For a brief instant, Maeve felt panic at the idea that she and Delilah would be sitting and drinking merrily while Castian walked through the doors…

“Let’s go somewhere else,” she said quickly. “I could use a change of scenery. You were talking about Snowfall the other day, right?”

Snowfall was a small bar, cramped and squeezed into a building between another inn and an armory that was quiet for the evening. She found a corner table and Delilah went to fetch them both some dragonwhiskey.

“Next week, when you rank up,” Delilah said, placing the glasses down, “we’ll take you out for real, to one of the food shops. It’s amazing how quickly you’re getting your jobs done.”

“Well, it’s my only source of coin,” Maeve said. “So I depend on it to eat.”

Delilah nodded and took a swig of the liquor. “A lot of new members take one or two jobs and then just disappear. They realize that errands and dirty quests aren't what they were looking for -- and it doesn’t pay well. You know that’s part of why the guild is so… gruff, at first. Most of us have been there for years, and we’ve seen so many people come and go.”

Maeve nodded. “I do. Not many can do what we do -- make it full work. I think guilds are romanticized, and there are a lot of young people who want to leave home, live a nomad’s life, go out and do things or help people…”

“Is that what you did?”

She paused. This was the first time she had really opened up to anyone in this town since she settled here a couple of months ago.

“My parents were…” She hesitated. “Stifling. I think as anyone does, I wanted to escape that. I joined the guild in my city for a while, but you have to understand… It was a big city, with many mages. There were elves who were far more skilled with magic than I, and others who were far more quick with a dagger and tools. There was little space for me, in the middle.”

“So you traveled away,” Delilah said.

“Yes. I actually threw a dart at a map. It was about a week’s travel to end up here.” She gave a small smile, remembering the journey on the cart, the cheapest she could pay for, packed in tight with other travelers and adventurers. In fact, luck had brought her here, too.

“I bet you’re full of good stories.” Delilah’s eyes glinted mischievously.

“I have not drank enough to tell most of them,” Maeve smiled.

She had drank enough to relax, though, and the warmth of the alcohol was so welcome in her body. It was nice to sit here like this, just being part of the babble of the bar, two quest-guilders having a bit of liquor after work.

“I also left home young,” Delilah said. “But my parents couldn’t get rid of me quick enough! My brothers had both started work as builders in the town, and my mother was always saying, ‘Delilah! Why can’t you make a living like your siblings?’ ‘Delilah! Can’t you put your skill with a sword to good use?’ And to be honest, I was so lazy, and I simply wanted to spend my days eating and occasionally hunting some game in the woods.”

Maeve laughed. “But the nagging got to you?”

“Yep,” Delilah grinned. “One day, I just packed up my things and came here. Joined the guild, took a few jobs every week and spent all my gold on food and wine, for a time!”

“Has that changed?” Maeve said with a little teasing tone.

“Don’t be rude,” she shot back, but she was still smiling. “I learned how to save some coin, at least. It’s a good life.”

“It’s not bad,” said Maeve.

She could imagine herself doing this for a while -- things would get better as soon as she was able to take the higher-ranked jobs, and she would probably find herself doing work that found her gone for days at a time, hunting beasts or goblins until she was worn, and coming back to a warm bath and liquor.

There was, though, a part of her that threw the idyllic fantasy off-kilter.

How would Castian affect this? How would she herself, with a newfound and problematic thirst for a thrill, alter her own life and choices?

She was too tired, and too tipsily content right now to fully entertain that feeling worming inside of her. It was just a low, beating hum, neither fully painful nor comfortable.

Maeve did, as Delilah predicted, retire early, but it wasn’t because of inebriation. She was simply exhausted, mind and body. They’d had a lovely conversation, a bit of sharing stories and a bit of gossip, and as the moon hung high in the sky, Maeve walked back into the Dove.

“Ah! Maeve Loravyr!” The innkeeper was calling to her over the din of the bar.

She walked over. “Yes?”

“Mail for you,” said the halfling, and he produced a small box wrapped with twine.

Maeve took it, and suddenly she was acutely nervous.

“Thank you,” she managed, and walked quickly upstairs to her room.

Once inside, she sat on the bed and undid the twine on the package with shaky fingers. The box opened to reveal a small vial of liquid, and a piece of parchment with writing. Her heart racing, she began to read.

‘Hello, Maeve. I hope this letter finds you well. If you would like to play more, you should meet me at Foxtail tomorrow night. It’s a gambling club, and you’ll find it in the alleyway between the apothecary and the blacksmith down the road.’

‘It is difficult to get in, and you shouldn’t tell anyone of it. Tell the man that you’re looking for a good evening, and when he refuses you, tell him he should flip a coin for it.’

‘He will cheat, and you will lose. You should have no problem with that. Then, he will let you in.’

‘Take the potion before you come. I imagine it will be exciting to drink a potion that I’ve not told you the effects of.’

‘Bring some gold, and try to stay tight-lipped.’

It was not signed, but Maeve knew, of course, that it was from Castian.

The emotions that she had kept lidded within her were swelling up.

‘I will do worse things to you,’ he’d promised.

A gambling club. Maeve was no stranger to the knowledge of black markets and the underbelly of the world. She’d never gotten heavily involved in the past, because although she heard whispers of lucrative opportunities, the risk always seemed to outweigh the reward. It wasn’t a real surprise that Castian, with his silver tongue and apt mind, would find good times there.

What was his intention in bringing her? Her mind spun with all sorts of horrible situations he could put her in, but they were like fleeting fantasies -- she had no idea what to expect; he didn’t tell her enough about what to expect.

His withholding information from her was a constant in their few interactions so far. It gave him an immense power and control over her, constantly keeping her off balance.

Speaking of information… There were a couple of key omissions in the letter. Despite her fatigue and racing pulse, Maeve tried to think straight.

First, of course, was the potion. It didn’t look anything like the mindwiping liquid from earlier, and Castian was wagering hard that she would blindly drink it. But what was it? A skilled brewer could make almost any effect. Was it a potion to alter her luck -- good or bad? To dull or sharpen her wit for games?

Then -- how and why would the doorguard cheat at a coin flip, and why was she meant to lose? Certainly, some secret groups had a specific bar to entry, but wouldn’t it make more sense that she should get in if she proved herself worthy?

The excluded details were so vast that her tired mind just kept turning in circles, and she couldn’t even discern the simple purpose of all of it: Was he trying to manipulate her with this?

No -- truthfully… How was he trying to manipulate her with this?

Maeve desperately needed sleep. She placed the potion vial and the letter on the nightstand and laid back in the bed, wrestling herself out of her leather and clothes. This was something she needed to address tomorrow, with a clear head.

She was thrumming with a low undercurrent of nerves and heat as she laid down to sleep.

Maeve’s excitement waxed and waned throughout the day -- she woke groggy, taking a full few minutes to remember what had happened the day before. It hit her hard, stringing together the memory of the job, of seeing Castian, of the slow and methodical breaking, of the potion… Then returning to the guild and Delilah, then the package.

But she went to take a job for the day and chatted as usual with the other guild members, did her due (an easy task helping one of the barmaids in town track down a keg of ale lost in transit), and returned to the Dove early, just a bit before sundown.

And now there was the matter of Castian’s summons.

She knew where she was supposed to go -- it was down an alley on the way to the guild, and she’d shot a glance there today. But now as the moments passed while she was alone in her room, the pressure was building.

What was in the potion? And, would she be in danger?

Maeve was reasonably certain that she had the skills to take care of herself. If something was wrong, she could slip covertly away, as she’d done many times before.

Of course, assuming that there wasn’t a trap waiting for her.

She realized now one of the problems that Castian had caused her -- her ability to recognize risk was still there, but she felt more heady about walking forward; her nerves were connected with an excitement, and it was clouding her judgment.

The potion lay on the nightstand, a greenish liquid that she didn’t recognize from her rudimentary background in alchemy. The only thing about that that she was confident of was that it wasn’t a poison. She didn’t trust Castian; his motives were unknown to her, but she did trust that he was telling the whole and complete truth when he said that his ultimate desire lay in games and manipulation. Killing her, especially out of sight, was out of the question.

The sun was dipping below the horizon out of the small, dusty window. If she was going to do this, it needed to be now.

Her heart racing, she uncorked the bottle, and downed its contents.

Maeve braced herself, hyperaware of her body and mind, scanning for any changes. There were a few moments of nothing, and then…

A warm tingling prickled her skin, barely perceptible until it grew, as though it was just lightly touching her and then sinking in deeper into her muscles. Her body seemed to tense and relax, as though her limbs were being sparked with impulses, little twitches.

She had never felt anything like this before, but it was as though… Her form was shifting? She felt her clothes suddenly become more constricting, her loose shorts becoming more form-fitting as her thighs widened -- as her whole body grew. The warmth spread over her in waves rushing through her limbs. There was a filling-in in her… her legs, her hips, her butt, her -- breasts, growing… Her shirt stretched and she began to panic if her clothes would rip, when it would stop --

But the tingling was lifting out of her, off of her skin and leaving her body.

She looked down at herself. Her breasts were in the way.

She flushed deeply, thinking about Castian’s unknown intent.

There was a mirror in the corner of the room and she walked to it, immediately startled by her own image -- her hair had lightened to a dusty blonde. Her ears had lost their pointed tips. Her body had filled, all of the places where she had curves were accentuated, giving her an almost-exaggerated hourglass figure that was threatening her clothes. The only thing that remained the same were her eyes, golden brown and staring back at herself.

It was striking.

Wouldn’t this… draw more attention to her at an underground club?

She thought about walking in and all eyes drawing to her and the sway of her hips. Castian in a corner, smirking at his handiwork.

Frightening. Humiliating.

…Driven by an impulse she couldn’t -- didn’t want to explain, she brought her hands up to cup her breasts.

They were big, and heavy, and she could feel her nipples through the stretched fabric of her shirt, and the crudeness of her action made her bring her arms back to her side at once.

The light in the room was fading, the sky outside now only lit with the soft orange glow that the sun cast from below the horizon.

If she was going to do this, she needed to go now.

Maeve walked out of the Dove -- she’d changed into one of her looser-fitting shirts, but even still she filled it out and was acutely aware of the eyes that followed her out of the bar. She ignored them, striding purposefully down the road and approaching the alleyway, glancing around before going down to approach a heavy-set human man leaning against a shabby wooden door.

She’d memorized Castian’s instructions, and heart racing, she put on a smile as he looked up at her.

“Hi,” she said smoothly. “I was wondering if you knew somewhere I could have a good evening.”

The man appeared annoyed at her request, but his eyes flicked down to her chest for just a moment.

“Sorry,” he said gruffly. “Private party.”

“That’s a shame,” Maeve said. “Could I convince you to let me in? Maybe flip a coin for it?”

He made a noise through his nose. “You got a coin?”

Oh -- yes; Castian had told her to bring gold, so she suspected that was what she was supposed to give. She produced a piece from her pouch, and handed it to the doorguard.

“Heads or tails?” he asked, seeming entirely uninterested.

“Heads,” Maeve replied.

The man placed it on his fist and gave it a flick with his thumb.

At once, Maeve sensed the presence of magic, and focused her eyes to see a glow enshrouding the coin as it flipped through the air, just for a split second. He caught it, palm covering it, then revealed it to be tails up.

“...Oh, what a shame,” Maeve said, trying her best to pout convincingly. “I guess I’ll head somewhere else…”

“Nah,” said the man, and as simple as that, he pocketed the coin and stepped aside to open the door.

Maeve’s heart was racing as she heard the dim babble of voices inside. The doorguard looked impatiently at her, and so she tentatively crossed the threshold.

It was a dark entranceway that led for a few paces down into a dimly lit room, wide and with low ceilings, tables scattered around and filled with people. Smoke hung in the air, and she needed to step fully inside in order to see the corners of the room -- there was a bar on one end, and what looked like a raised stage on the other. The patronage was as she’d expected: suspicious-looking individuals, playing cards, rolling dice, smoking and drinking, and all amongst fairly large piles of coin.

There was… a surprisingly large presence of magic. Not everywhere, but at multiple game tables she saw an arcane aura around a deck of cards, or someone’s hands or eyes.

Only a few people glanced up to look at her as she walked in -- a half-orc playing a card game, a human rolling dice, a halfling discreetly counting her winnings, and mostly people went right back to their games, albeit leaning in and talking low to their partners.

She didn’t see Castian anywhere.

And something else was off -- it took a moment for Maeve to put her finger on it, and she double-checked… She saw tieflings, humans, half-orcs, halflings, dwarves, even a few tabaxi --

There were no elves.

Oh. Oh.

It could just be a coincidence, but… The transformation potion would make sense. Not pronouncing the doorguard a cheater would make sense. It wasn’t legal (or palatable) to discriminate based on race, but this place was clearly operating outside of the law, and the logic could be that elves possessed innate arcane senses…

But why had Castian gone through the trouble to make her come here? In all likelihood, he was here, but disguised as well -- where was he?

At a loss and suddenly feeling more vulnerable, Maeve walked to an empty table near the bar and sat. Scanning the room, her eyes lingered on some of the folks seated and drinking, and as she looked, she noticed the faint presence of magic over a few of them. She focused -- it was… surrounding their heads, and… in their glasses, which she now saw were filled with…

A light blue-tinted liquid.

Adrenaline surged through her, strong and immediate. Carefully she observed, and she saw the ways that their eyelids were relaxed, their lips moving slowly as they talked, the dopey smiles pasted on their faces.

Her body throbbed with arousal and embarrassment. These people were drugging themselves with Castian’s potion. This was where his clientele was. She couldn’t believe her eyes, all of them willfully submitting themselves to a suggestible high, right in front of her, in front of everyone --

They were sluggish in their movements and swaying gently when they weren’t talking, the glow of magic making their heads look fuzzy. She could imagine the tingling warmth that they felt, just sitting there out in the open, indulging… Was this what she’d looked like to Castian? Had she looked so placid and dim?

“Haven’t seen you here before,” came an unfamiliar voice, startling her out of her thoughts. It belonged to the human man grinning salaciously at her from next to the table.

“Ah -- it’s my first time here,” Maeve said, giving a half-wobbly smile.

“Well, let me be the first to welcome you to Foxtail,” he said. “The name’s Ed. I see no one has done you the hospitality of inviting you for a game, and I’d like to change that.”

He was holding a deck of cards.

Was this… Castian in disguise? Was he toying with her?

…Should she gamble?

A thrill ran through her; so much she didn’t know.

“I’m Alice,” she said. “I’d love to play.”

“Excellent! May I?” And he sat down and began shuffling the deck.

“What game are we trying?” Maeve asked as he dealt each of them one card face down.

“Oh, you’ve never played Two-Card?” Ed tried badly to hide a crinkle of his eyes. “It’s very easy. We try to get as close to ten as we can without going over. Face cards worth ten or zero. You bet on your first card, then on your second, and then you can choose to swap one and bet once more.”

Maeve nodded. “Ah, I’ve played similar.”

“Good, good! Don’t give it away if you bust; maybe you’ll be able to trick me into thinking you’ve got a good hand.” He winked at her. Maeve was beginning to strongly doubt that this was Castian.

She and Ed looked at their cards. She had a four, not a bad start. Ed put a gold piece in the middle of the table. Maeve hesitated but matched it -- she had brought twenty gold with her, and she really did not want to lose such a sum. There was the potential for this game to get expensive.

Second card -- a three. Another gold on the table. As Maeve pondered whether to replace it, she saw the deck glow, thin layers of magic peppered in it, and one of Ed’s cards was glowing too. Rudimentary magic, but magic all the same.

Her heart raced -- he was cheating. She kept a neutral face. She needed to play this round straight.

She decided not to swap her three, but Ed swapped one of his cards -- the nonmagicked one, and drew the top card off the deck, which had an arcane aura.

One more gold apiece, and then the reveal…

Her seven lost against his two face cards -- a perfect ten.

“Oh,” she said, feigning surprise and disappointment.

“Aw, your first round,” Ed said, and there was maliciousness masked with sympathy in his voice. “That’s how it goes sometimes.”

“Very much so,” Maeve replied, and he dealt another card each. She knew now that the face cards were the ones enchanted to be visible.

Her first card was a face card, and she realized that if she could see the glow, so could he, and he’d be making choices based on what he knew about her cards. She put in two gold, which he matched.

Next card was a six, for a total of six or bust. Ed had one glowing card, and one not. She bet one gold, but Ed raised it to two, and then he put in his nonmagical card to swap. He drew another from the top of the deck, and though he was trying to hide it, there were a couple of little creases that formed around his lips.

Maeve looked at her cards and thought about what to do.

She realized that this was boring.

There was a small thrill inside of her of gambling, of risking, but it was so low and mundane. Ed was completely readable. The game was completely readable. She had no urge to throw the win away and sabotage herself when there was so little complexity.

She exchanged her face card and saw a hint of surprise on Ed’s face. She drew a three to give her a total of nine. Certainly the easy way to play would be to hope for two face cards, or one face and one high. But it was better for her if Ed knew less about her hand -- playing with cards that he wouldn’t immediately know the value of.

She bet one gold again, and as expected, Ed raised it to two.

They revealed, and Maeve’s nine beat Ed’s seven.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, and smiled. “Lucky.”

“Congratulations,” Ed grinned. “Another?”

Perhaps he thought he could hustle her with this. The game picked up speed, now.

Ed had a face card lit by the glow of magic; she had a nine. He put in two gold, which she matched. She drew a four, and he drew another face card. There was no way for her to win against his ten unless she got insanely lucky. She allowed them to grow the pot by another two gold each -- she didn’t want him to think that she could see his hand -- then folded after drawing another card.

Next round, Maeve had a four, and bet three gold, raising the stakes. Ed’s eyebrows lifted, and he matched her -- he had a nonmagic card. Second card, she drew another four for a total of eight, and Ed drew another numbered card. He looked a little annoyed as well as suspicious of her, but she smiled and bet four gold. He matched it.

There wasn’t a face card in the top two cards of the deck, and Maeve realized that he was at a disadvantage. She declined to swap. Ed chose one of his two cards and pulled another. He smiled, but it was thin.

Maeve took an anticipating breath and placed five gold pieces on the table. There was a high chance that he had either a low hand or a bust, and although eight wasn’t the best hand, she bet it was better than what he had -- or that he’d think that. Now this -- this was a little thrill.

Ed hesitated, then let out a laugh and pushed the pile towards her.

“Alright, Alice,” he said. “You aren’t so bad at this.”

“Thank you,” Maeve said, her blood pumping with adrenaline as she scooped up the pot. She’d won an extra six gold pieces altogether -- not bad.

“I should buy you one of our specialty drinks to celebrate. You'll love it,” Ed said with a grin, and Maeve realized immediately what he was implying -- the diluted mindwiping potion; he was saying he wanted to get her to relax and be dim -- her body surged with heat and arousal, even the idea that this man was suggesting that, even if he didn’t know her strong reaction to it, her body remembered and yearned --

“Not before I have a game with her, Ed,” came a voice, pleasant.

A blue-skinned tiefling had appeared next to them with a toothy but easy smile.

“Aw, Kairon,” Ed said. “Let the lady have a drink! It’s on me.”

Ed was trying to manipulate her into being suggestible for gambling -- for all he knew, she had no idea what the potion would do…

“Why don’t we let her decide?” the tiefling -- Kairon -- said, and then addressed her, fixing her with an intense stare. “Would you rather drink, sweetheart, or wait to play just one more round of Two-Card with me? You looked like you were holding your own there, and I'd love to see how you play.”

It was Castian. It was Castian -- she knew it was him -- his eyes were the same steely color; her heart raced --

“I’ll play,” she said. She was staring at him.

“Careful of that one, Alice,” Ed grumbled. “He’s one of our top winners. Tricky bastard.”

Top winners… There was a ranking system here…

Kairon -- Castian -- was sitting down as Ed left in a huff. He took out a deck of cards and smiled at her.

There was no magical aura anywhere around them or on the cards. They were playing blindly, and now the familiar feeling of excitement flooded her, so suddenly that she almost felt drunk.

“Nice to meet you,” Castian said. “Alice, was it?”

“Yes,” Maeve said carefully -- apparently they were keeping up the ruse. "It's nice to meet you, too."

Castian gave them each a card. “You can bet first, if you like.”

She had a face card, and she put in a single gold.

“I love these sorts of card games,” Castian said. “They remind me of when I first started to gamble.”

“Yeah?” Maeve breathed. The concealed message was obvious to her: This was how they met, over a game of cards.

“Yes,” Castian said, matching her bet. “I knew there was so much to keep track of, even in a simple game like this -- all of the probabilities, and the potential for deception. I found myself fumbling and overwhelmed more than once.”

Her head was swimming immediately, between imagining someone losing their grip on the game and the reality that Castian was talking to her again in this very specific way. It felt warm, as though it was making her thoughts more abstract…

The second card was a seven. She was barely paying attention.

“What brought you to a place like this?” Castian asked.

The knowledge that it was him -- that he all but compelled her here…

“I… just have a fondness for gambling,” Maeve said, and her voice seemed soft and far away.

“Really,” Castian said, staring right into her eyes.

‘Close. You want to lose again.’

She was hot between her legs and she suddenly felt very aware of her magically-large breasts, how she looked to him right now. She bet another gold piece, but he raised it to two. Trembling, she matched it.

Seven wasn’t the worst hand, but it wasn’t the best -- she didn’t know if she should swap… She couldn’t see the face cards anymore; she couldn’t find the logic to try to suss out if she had an advantage or not…

“I can’t judge,” Castain continued. “It’s one of my favorite things. Most of us here simply love the game. Some people want to make quick coin, but they all keep coming back here… Something about it, they just keep coming…”

His extremely sexual double entendre hit her hard -- the hot, tingling arousal peaked almost painfully between her legs, immediately making her flush; the idea that she was trapped, the idea that this was affecting her so deeply, swelling inside of her mind -- clenching her fists --

Maeve watched Castian swap a card with his blue, long-nailed tiefling hand, and shaking, she simply put another gold on the table, sealing herself into the bet.

He raised it to three. She was helpless; she knew she wasn’t going to fold, she knew she was at Castian’s mercy, that she’d put in whatever he did --

“‘Atta girl,” he whispered as she fumbled to place the gold on the table, just loud enough for her to hear.

She was taking quick breaths, ready to flip the cards --

“Do you think you won?” Castian asked, low.

“...I don’t know,” Maeve whispered, her throat tight.

“Yes, you do,” he said, and revealed his hand -- a total of nine.

Sharp and sweet pleasure bloomed in her chest, the most perfect sensation gripping her -- this, this was riding in tandem with her desires…

Castian took the pot -- she had lost exactly the six gold that she’d won from Ed. Maeve began trying to catch her breath, to come off of the high of losing a wager like this. 

He flashed her a smile with his sharp tiefling teeth. “Well, that was a lovely game. Thank you, Alice, and welcome to Foxtail.”

“Th-thank you,” she said, shakily.

“I am actually about to leave for the night,” he said. “But before that, I’d like to introduce you to the owner here.”

Castian stood up, and she followed him with wobbling knees over to another corner of the room where there was a human man, middle-aged, with combed brown hair and gold rings adorning his fingers.

“Ashton,” Castian said smoothly. “I trust you’ve been enjoying the evening.”

“Oh, Kairon, what a pleasure.” The man grinned. His voice was throaty and rough, like someone who regularly smoked. “It’s a little quiet, but I don’t mind that ever so often.”

“It can be quite relaxing,” Castian agreed. “I was just about to retire, myself, but I wanted to introduce someone to you. This is Alice -- she just hustled Ed out of a few gold and I think she’ll fit in quite nicely.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Maeve recited.

The man -- Ashton -- held his hand out, and she shook it.

“And you, as well, young lady,” he said. “I’m sure Kairon already revealed it, but this is my fine establishment. How did a nice-looking girl like yourself stumble in here?”

Maeve hesitated. “Well, you know… I have connections around, and I love a good gamble.”

Ashton smiled, but it was tinged with a maliciousness that just revealed itself. “Good answer. I respect a woman who can keep secrets for others.”

She smiled thinly back. “I have experience being discreet.”

“Then I trust you won’t flap your mouth about this,” Ashton said, and Maeve got the distinct impression that there was a threat behind his words. “Enjoy your time here. You know somebody that likes a game, feel free to whisper your recommendation to them. We just got one rule.”

He leaned in very close, and Maeve stiffened.

“No fuckin’ elves,” he whispered, venomous, and for a moment Maeve felt a surge of fear and her hand twitched, automatically wanting to go to her dagger -- did he know she was disguised? Was he implying -- was he going to --

Ashton drew back and his face returned to a grin.

“Enjoy your stay, and Lady Luck be with you,” he said.

“Thank you,” Maeve said, trying to keep her voice as even as possible.

Castian seemed unfazed and smiled pleasantly, looking at her. “Well, that’s sorted, so I’m going to head out. Are you planning to stay, Alice?”

“I was thinking of going back, myself,” she said quickly.

“Excellent,” Castian said. “I’ll walk you out.”

“Have a good night,” Ashton called after them as they made their way to exit.

They walked through the door and past the man outside who was picking at his fingernails and didn’t so much as acknowledge them. Maeve kept quiet as they left the alley and began walking down the street in the direction of the Dove. Castian, too, was silent, and Maeve’s mind swam with questions and uncertainty, all the way to the inn.

As they approached, Castian finally spoke. “Follow me,” he said, and led her down the alley next to the building, far down, to a corner that couldn’t be seen by the street.

“You did well,” he said. “I knew you’d come, but you fit right in.”

Maeve paused, his praise affecting her unexpectedly. “I… I have a lot of questions.”

“The transformation potion is permanent,” Castian said.

“Wh-what?” Surely -- surely that wasn’t true, but --

“That was a lie,” he said, smiling. “But you made a lovely face. And you do look good, like this.”

She flushed and turned, trying to stand in a way that didn’t accentuate her breasts and hips.

“You are horrible,” she said, and he laughed.

This was… as close to flirtation as she’d been in a long time.

“It will wear off as you sleep,” Castian said. “So that is the first question answered.”

Maeve hesitated, unsure of where to begin. “Just… why? You have an entire separate persona with these people? Ed said -- you were at the top of the rankings there? You sell your… your…”

Castian interrupted her, grinning as she stumbled over her words. “I bet that was fun for you to see,” he purred. “Yes, they do enjoy the effects, and it presents interesting opportunities for them to play…”

Maeve was struck by the image of random people smiling softly and doing as instructed in a wager, easily led…

“You should not indulge while you’re there,” Castian said. “It would be too easy for someone to weasel out the truth of your identity. Enchantment magic is very powerful on you because of your elven blood and… unique predilections.”

“I -- I wouldn’t! Not in front of people…” She blushed. “But… Why are elves not allowed in the first place? Is it because of their -- our arcane senses?”

Castian’s face darkened -- a look she hadn’t seen on him before.

“Listen, Maeve,” he said. “Mages can tell when someone is actively detecting magic with a spell, but it is harder to notice an elf’s perceptions. This group is anarchist, to a point. It is survival of the fittest. Whoever holds the most gold pulls all the strings and makes all the rules. Ashton is a vile man, but a talented sorcerer, and he’s used his cunning to stay at the top. To him, elves are a threat not only to his place in Foxtail but to his practice of magic in general.”

She knew that he was being vague with his words, and he was too purposeful to leave information out by accident. But this didn’t seem like the right time to press for it.

“So why… Why did you make me go?”

His clouded face broke into a smooth smile, and Maeve suddenly felt very uneasy. He took a step towards her and reached out, tucked a lock of her blonde hair behind her ear, and cupped her cheek to make her look up at him. Heat swelled in her body --

“I’m going to use you, sweetheart,” he murmured, “to get Ashton out, and then I’ll run it all down there.”

“I -- I…” He was so close to her --

“I think you’re going to be a perfect little pawn for me,” he said, and then he leaned down and kissed her.

Her mind exploded in pleasure, and even the little thread that was insistent within her -- ‘He’s manipulating you! He’s doing it right now!’ -- was making his lips and tongue feel even better, even more divine. Her breasts were pressed against him, and one of his hands slid down the side of her body to rest on her hip, squeezing just gently.

After a moment, he pulled back, and she looked dazedly up at him.

“If you’re lucky,” he whispered, “I’ll control you like a puppet to achieve some of my agenda.”

For better or for worse, and both good and bad, Maeve had faith in her luck.