“Two days!” Delilah squealed. “Two days, Maeve! I’m so excited for you.”

“We don’t know for certain that there will be a job tomorrow that’s enough for me to rank up,” Maeve said gently, but she couldn’t deny the hopeful part of her as she looked at the board overfilled with posts.

“We should make plans,” Delilah continued, beaming, ignoring Maeve’s comment. “Take the whole day after. Food, shopping, liquor... There’s a smoked meats place that Grant says is really good --”

“Leave me out of it,” Grant grumbled, but there wasn't much bite to it.

“You can get new leathers! A new dagger! I’ll pitch in --”

“Definitely leave me out of that.”

Despite everything, Maeve smiled. It didn’t matter that today’s job was running rats out of a tavern’s garbage heap, or that tomorrow’s job might be something worse. Soon, she would be doing things to actually help people and help the town -- in a bigger way.

“Well?” Delilah was saying with a broad grin.

“Alright,” Maeve replied. “I’m in.”

Her mild mood turned sour over the course of the project -- the poster had conveniently left out just how many rats were nesting in the trash, and the way that their eyes shone red and their tiny mouths frothed. She used up all of her darts to dispose of them, and still needed a bit of deft daggerwork to take care of a few larger ones.

“Oh, splendid work,” crowed the tavernkeep, looking at the bloody pile. “Now there is, ah, just the matter of the bodies…”

Maeve sighed.

She desperately needed a bath, and luckily the washroom was empty, most people still at their work for the day. She soaked in the hot water for nearly an hour, trying to soothe herself back to the pleasantness she felt earlier.

There was also a chance that Castian had left another note for her downstairs -- she didn’t exactly know what the plan was with him and Foxtail, and him and Ashton.

This was far beyond anything that Maeve had gotten involved with in the past. Small-scale deceptions and schemes to make quick gold, certainly. Ensuring that someone with a nasty attitude got what they deserved. But removing an underground gambling mogul? Who hated elves? 

She sunk further into the water, letting her chin submerge into it. She didn’t even necessarily know if she was doing the right thing by helping Castian -- sure, Ashton was… frightening. But she didn’t exactly know Castian’s intentions either.

She’d been seduced into getting excited over the idea of being controlled to help him, and perhaps that was part of his goal -- give her less agency in the plan so that she felt like it was less of her responsibility.

As always, there was so much she didn’t know.

Maeve headed downstairs after drying off and getting dressed, and immediately spotted Castian sitting at one of the tables, alone. He looked up and noticed her, smiling and then waving.

Her legs took her over to him.

“Have dinner with me,” he said pleasantly.

Maeve sat, almost automatically.

“...Hello,” she said.

Castian grinned. “Hi, Maeve. Are you busy tonight?”

She flushed. “No…”

“Excellent.” He lowered his voice. “I have a bit of a wager for you.”

Her pounding heart beat louder in her ears, but Castian stopped talking and waved for one of the barkeeps to come over.

“What can I get for you?” the gnome woman asked in a thick accent.

“I’ll just have some of the stew today,” Castian said.

“Er… Eggs and bacon, please,” Maeve said. Castian raised an eyebrow at her.

“Coming right up!” the barkeep said, and hustled away.

“Just… want to keep my energy up,” Maeve mumbled.

Castian smiled. Her cheeks felt warm.

He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Want to hear the game?”

Silently, she nodded…

Castian fixed her with his gaze. “The gamble is this: I bet that you're going to say ‘yes’ to the next request I make of you.”

His confidence, his assumption of her behavior towards him gave her a rush, but…

“Is that…” Maeve swallowed the shame of saying it. “Is that really much of a gamble?”

Castian’s grin widened. “What a nice thing to say. But these are the terms of the wager: If you agree with me that you’ll say ‘yes’ before knowing the request, you are binding yourself to follow through with it, no matter what.”

…He was skillfully, surgically removing her choice. She stared at him, feeling the weight inside of her chest and the prickling heat of hidden risk.

“What if I say ‘no?’” she said quietly. “What if you’re wrong?”

“If you predict that you’ll say ‘no,’” Castian murmured, “Then when I tell you the request, you’ll have to stick to that, too.”

How was he doing this? How was he always instilling within her a creeping fear, a sense that her actions were always subject to his whims? He played with omitted information, toying with her curiosity. He dangled motivations before her, always just nearly hinting that she’d get something she desired.

She didn’t realize that she’d been silent, digging her nails into her palms until the barmaid appeared again in a rush, carrying their plates of food.

“Here you are, dears,” she said, and dropped them off to hurry back towards the kitchen.

Castian began happily eating, but Maeve’s plate of fluffy eggs and greasy bacon didn’t look very appetizing to her.

“If you get that right --” he said, looking at her, “if you guess that you’ll say ‘no,’ and you’re right, I’ll give you 30 gold.”

…He was a horrible, horrible person. He was lording his confidence over her, he was so sure that she’d blindly accept whatever he offered her, and he was right.

“...I’ll say ‘yes,’” she said softly, her heart sinking with the submission of it.

“Wonderful,” Castian said. “You’re going to let me up to your room.”

Maeve flushed immediately. “I -- what?”

“I said,” Castian spoke slowly, “that you’re going to let me up to your room. Isn’t that right?”

“Y-you --” Maeve’s voice shook, “what are you implying?”

“Does it matter?” he murmured. “Would it change your answer?”

All Maeve could think of were the potential eyes on her in the tavern as she brought a man upstairs, closing the door behind them, his hands settling to her waist --

“No,” she whispered. “I’ll do it.”

“Of course you will.” His smile was warm and cold, all at once. “Now, you should eat.”

They both ascended the stairs to the rooms on the second floor, and Maeve tried very hard to walk confidently, to look like she wasn’t engaging in something salacious. She unlocked her door and let Castian step inside, and then closed it behind them both.

He looked at her with an unreadable expression and walked slowly towards her, causing her to backpedal until she felt herself press against the wall. Her eyes widened as she looked up at him, as he crowded into her, bringing his hand up and putting it against the wall next to her head with a dull thud, trapping her with his body.

She was breathing heavily, feeling her eyes flick automatically towards his lips, uncertainty and excitement swimming within her. This was so fast -- he was so close -- was he really going to --

Maeve felt the gathering of magical energy in his hand, next to her, and she gasped, her aroused and frightened feelings spiking instantly; she closed her eyes, her body calling to yield to the arcane…

But she felt the magic begin diffusing out of his hand, going behind her, beside her… It was… seeping into the wall…?

Her eyes opened and she looked up -- Castian was smirking at her. Behind him, she could see the arcane energy flowing all around the walls of the small room.

“Wh-what --” Maeve’s throat was tight and her cheeks burned with the embarrassment of her unfulfilled expectation.

“Disappointed?” Castian purred, and leaned away from her.

“You --” Anger rose in her chest. “What did you cast? Are you going to spy on me?!”

“What would I gain from that?” Castian said, walking casually over to sit in the chair in the corner, lips curved up.

Maeve shook with shame and outrage as she immediately visualized herself undressing before bed, and Castian watching from somewhere far away.

“I’m going to keep it a secret,” he continued before she managed the gumption to speak. “You can’t and won’t really do anything about it anyways.”

The frustration was making tears ache and prickle in her eyes. It hurt to swallow.

“What do you want?” she whispered finally.

“We need to talk about what we’re doing about Foxtail and Ashton,” Castian said, and his face now looked serious.

…Was that it? Had he enspelled the room to be resistant towards surveillance, for this conversation? She focused her eyes on the wall, but the glow of magic was multicolored and shifting -- there was more than one spell --

“I am going to take advantage of the stealthiness that you are so proud of,” Castian said, jolting her out of her thoughts.

“...To do what?” Maeve asked.

“There is a record that Ashton has that I need to see,” he said. “He has been organizing something illegal and wicked for the last few months, and if I can get my eyes on his record of it, I can end him.”

“But you won’t tell me what it is,” Maeve said.

“It is better that you don’t know,” Castian replied simply.

Maeve sighed, the frustration from earlier having exhausted her, but the uneasy, unpleasant feelings still surging in her weak body.

“What if I don’t want to?” she said suddenly. “What if this is too much? Do I have a choice?”

Castian gave a little smile. “Are you flirting with me? Are you that desperate to be forced, Maeve?”

She simply wanted to collapse under the weight of her own body, his words, her emotions, the implications he dangled in front of her.

“I think you will like what I propose,” Castian said.

Maeve just stood, silent.

“Tonight, we go to Foxtail,” Castian began. “My understanding is that Ashton keeps his parchments in one of the side rooms, behind a locked door. We should observe how he behaves and make an appearance so as not to seem suspicious, as well as confirm what kind of lock is present, as I believe that it is one that cannot be broken by my magic.”

Lockpicking was something that she was particularly skilled at -- ages ago her parents and teachers learned the hard way that Maeve would go wherever she pleased.

“And for the part that you will like,” Castian smiled, “tomorrow morning, I will control you and possess you like a helpless little puppet, and walk you over down the alley and into the room so that I can get my eyes on it -- through you.”

Despite her discomfort, Maeve felt her body burn with liquid desire at the suggestion of him invading her mind and making her walk like an automaton, a placid look on her face and wide, blank eyes…

“...Do I have a choice?” she repeated softly.

“I’ve told you before, Maeve,” Castian said. “You always have a choice. But your decision-making is awful, isn't it?"

She did, now, stumble over to the bed and sit down, letting her tense muscles relax and putting her face in her hands. She heard Castian’s footsteps approach her; she felt his hand on her shoulder; she felt him get closer and lean down to her ear.

“But you don’t want a choice, anyways,” he murmured.

Her body and her thoughts became instantly fervent and irrational, as though she was crying out -- ‘Please, please! Right now -- please, right now, we’re right here, I’ll yield, I’ll submit, I’ll lay down, I’ll open my mind, I’ll spread my legs --’

It was too much to bear, and she did, now, start crying.

“There, there.” Castian’s voice was patronizing and satisfied, and his hand smoothed over her back and shoulders. She didn’t have the strength to push him off nor pull him down to her.

It was only a couple minutes of tears until she felt a little better, and Castian stroked her patiently through it.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked.

Maeve wiped her eyes and nodded quietly. Castian reached into his coat and pulled out a small, liquid-filled glass vial -- the transformation potion. Of course; she needed that -- actually, so did he, and actually, was she supposed to take it in front of him…?

He held it out to her and she took it, just holding it for a moment as she watched him produce another one -- presumably his.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he said, lips curved up.

She flushed as he uncorked his vial and held it out towards her.

“Cheers,” he said.

Maeve opened her own vial and hesitantly clinked it against his.

Castian poured the contents into his mouth and she mirrored him, taken for a moment by the sense that she couldn’t take back what she was doing, that the transformation was inevitably going to happen in just a few seconds…

The tingling warmth began to settle into her skin and it seemed to be made more intense by Castian’s eyes surveying her, but she couldn’t look away from what she was seeing in him. A soft arcane glow was surrounding his whole body, making it look like his skin was changing hue, slowly as though her eyes were tricking her until it was clear that it was. Horns sprouted from the top of his head, his shoulders broadening, his nails growing to sharp points…

Maeve felt her own body shift, her curves prickling and buzzing, her clothes stretching once more, struck by the embarrassment of Castian’s gaze fixed upon her swelling breasts. She had the immediate urge to cover herself with her arms, but she could imagine his smirk --

A wave of the heat overtook her as the potion’s spell neared completion, and she gasped at the feeling of it intertwined with arousal, shame, submission -- and then a wondering thought: Was Castian feeling this too? Was his body responding like hers; was he --

The magic faded and settled, and Castian -- back as Kairon in his blue-skinned tiefling form -- took a deep breath and grinned a sharp-toothed grin at her. She flushed and squeezed her legs together instinctively, her thick thighs squishing against each other.

Castian removed his coat and snapped his fingers, creating an arcane burst that surrounded it and made it vanish, leaving him in his tight-fitting undershirt.

“I need to change my clothes as well,” said Maeve, very aware of the exposed undersides of her breasts and the stretch of fabric over her nipples.

“I’m not stopping you,” Castian said, with a challenging smile, and he simply stood there, looking expectantly at her.

Maeve’s cheeks burned. “You -- you’re going to --”

“I should be able to see my handiwork,” Castian said. “It’s my potionmaking. And you can’t lie and say you don’t want that.”

She cast her eyes down. Trembling, she brought her hands up to the hem of her shirt, gripped it, pulled it up… She felt her breasts bounce down, revealed as she pulled the shirt over her head and tossed it aside.

When she finally looked up at Castian, he looked… Gloating, and laced with hunger. There was silence for too long of a moment, and she couldn’t help the instinct to look away and cover her breasts with folded arms.

“You can hide those from me,” Castian said, closing the gap between him and suddenly gripping her chin roughly with an outstretched hand, forcing her gaze towards him. “But you can’t hide this from me.”

She took humiliated, shaky breaths through her nose, watching his eyes gleam with sadism and pleasure.

“Besides,” he murmured, and he brought his free hand up to caress her crossed arms, fingertips playing over the area where they met the soft skin of her breasts. “You would fold for me if I even pushed just slightly…”

Heat swelled inside of her, tingling between her legs and blooming over her nipples, her mind beginning to go soft as she felt the tension in her arms weaken…

“Here’s another gamble, Maeve,” he continued, his voice lowering even further. “Am I going to give you something you want, right now? If you think I will, your hands will drop…”

She couldn’t think straight, desire pumping in her blood, uncertainty fuzzing her up. But almost separate from her consciousness, she felt the muscles in her arms start to let go, making them slowly fall to her sides…

Castian’s hand, hovering over her breast, made whisper-soft contact, stroking down to cup it and then squeeze gently -- Maeve moaned as the anticipation turned to flooding pleasure and surrender. He was really doing it, truly, touching her like this… His thumb rubbed across the swell of it to her nipple, brushing over it back and forth, hot sparks of pleasure from her breasts down into her stomach… She felt like she was melting, wobbling where she stood, his hand still keeping her face lifted to him, her eyes lidded in indulgence, watching his intense observation of her as she whimpered --

He released her, slowly, and took a step back, surveying. Maeve felt dazed, her lips parted, her skin hot and flushed, her nipples tingling.

Castian smiled, and it was unkind. “There you go. Ready to go out now? Feel better?”

Maeve nodded dumbly.

Castian left first; he’d told her to wait a little while before coming in so that they weren’t seen entering Foxtail together. It gave Maeve time to put on a shirt and come down from the sexual trance she’d been in from his intimate speaking and touching. She was left with a shuddering sort of unease that she was in this far too deep.

But it had felt so unimaginably good -- better than any physical encounter she’d ever had, and he’d barely touched her. And though it felt as though -- or that it was clear -- he was placating her, there was the hidden little sense of an implication of more to come.

Maeve wasn’t terribly sexually driven, as a person. At least, she hadn’t been in the past. Flings, maybe. But now she understood the times when her peers would make questionable choices in their lives just to chase the thrill of intimacy.

She pushed it from her mind as she made her way down the street to the alley. The doorguard -- the same man -- barely looked up at her before stepping aside to let her in.

The room had more people in it tonight, most of the tables crowded and the sound of cards, dice, and coin could be heard among the babble of voices. At the bar was Castian, pouring drinks and smiling at the people seated there. Maeve felt a pang of discomfort and arousal thinking about him openly drugging the patrons, and then… entertaining them as they indulged…

But he caught her eye, smiled, and waved.

Maeve had absolutely no intention of sitting at the bar next to the enchanted, stupefied people, but she could perhaps get herself a small bit of ale to sip as she observed this evening at Foxtail.

“Alice, right?” Castian said as she approached. “Nice to see you back. Care for a drink?”

“It is nice to see you again… Kairon.” Her pause for his name was genuine, at least. “I didn’t know you tended the bar here. I was thinking I could go for a tankard of ale, if you have some.”

“A woman after my own heart!” Castian said. “We do have a bit. Five silver.”

He filled a small tankard to a frothy head from the tapped keg.

“Thank you.” She placed the coin and a tip -- a bit steep, honestly -- on the bar.

“Would you like to join us for some pleasant conversation?” Castian asked, and his eyes glinted wickedly. “These folks are wasted, but that makes it quite entertaining.”

The few people at the barstools, who Maeve had been trying very hard to ignore, giggled softly and sighed, their eyes half-lidded.

“No, thank you,” Maeve said, trying not to be curt, and she quickly turned and walked to an empty table.

As she sat, she looked back towards the bar, where Castian noticed her gaze and winked at her. She was about to look away in embarrassment and annoyance, but his face turned serious for a moment while making eye contact with her, and then he slowly and pointedly looked to the other side of the room.

Maeve followed his gaze and saw, in the corner, a door obscured by shadows.

She did a quick scan of the whole place -- Ashton was nowhere to be seen; was he in the room right now? Castian, when she looked back at him, had refocused at the bar. Maeve settled her attention on her ale, watching the door out of the corner of her eye.

The door was surrounded by a magical glow, but whether it was locked, trapped, or alarmed, she couldn’t tell. She could just barely make out the deeper shadow of a keyhole, but she wouldn’t be able to tell what sort of lock it was until she saw the teeth of the key itself.

It was a few more minutes before there was movement and the door swung open -- her heart raced as she watched as subtly as she could. First, the glow dissipated. Second, Ashton emerged, looking calm as ever. Third, he shut it behind him and produced a key, turning it in the lock. She could just barely see, but she didn’t need a perfect image, just…

It was a masterwork key, lined fully with teeth. Maeve was a good lockpick, but she’d only picked a masterwork lock once… and it had taken her the better part of an hour. If she couldn’t even see the pattern of the teeth right now, it’d be difficult…

The glow returned to the door. Ashton pocketed the key and began walking away from the door and into the center of the room. She looked towards him at an unlucky moment and he smiled toothily at her. Maeve smiled weakly back. To her horror, he approached her table.

“Back for more, young lady?” he said.

“Perhaps a bit,” she replied cautiously.

“Good, good.” He grinned. “I’d offer you a game myself, sweetheart, but I’m afraid I’ve got a prior engagement.”

“Ah. Well… enjoy.”

“I will.” And with that, he left her, walking towards a table not too far from her where… Ed, the man from before was sitting?

Curiously, some of the patrons noticed and began turning their chairs to watch. Ed looked plainly nervous, idly handling a deck of cards.

“What a treat, Alice,” came Castian’s voice -- she jumped; he’d come over to her. “You can watch Ashton gamble for the first time.”

“Yes,” she said. “I… think I will watch from here.”

“I’ll join you, if that’s alright.” He didn’t wait for a response before taking the chair across from her.

“Ed, my friend!” said Ashton boisterously, settling into his seat. “I’ve been so bored as of late and I’m thrilled you agreed to a game.”

“My pleasure,” Ed responded, his voice tight.

He dealt the cards and it became clear that they were playing Two-Card, but at a pace much faster than Maeve had ever seen. Card, bet, card, bet, swap, bet, reveal. Ed’s neutral face was terrible, his nerves evident in the crease of his brow. Ashton looked… easy, confident. This was not going to go well.

Maeve saw no arcane glow in the deck this time, and both men were keeping their cards flush to the table, so she couldn’t follow the game except in the exchange of gold. At first, the bets seemed evenly matched, and Ed’s face began to smooth, but there was one round where he got confident, led into a high bet, but Ashton revealed the winning hand.

Ed’s pile of gold began to shrink, and Ashton’s grew. The game slowed as Ed took more and more time to decide his moves. It was hard to watch, honestly, as Ashton’s grin only widened, and as the people around them began to whisper amongst each other.

They were at the swap of a round when Ed paused for a moment, brow furrowed, and Maeve saw just a hint of magic flash inside the deck, highlighting some of the cards. It was just for a moment, but she saw Ashton react, his lips turning down.

Oh, no.

Ed bet -- high, challenging. But Ashton folded, pushing the pot across the table, and though they’d been silent this whole time, he finally spoke.

“Tell me, Ed,” he said. “Do you think there’s a better gambler than me in this room?”

“...No,” Ed replied sheepishly.

“And tell me,” Ashton continued, his voice lowering. “Do you think there’s a smarter man than me here either?”

Ed was beginning to look very nervous. “No… sir.”

“So by your own admission,” Ashton hissed, “you’re a worse gambler, and dumber man than I. And yet you thought you could con me out of taking what’s rightfully mine?”

Ed’s face was as pale as a sheet. The people watching were dead silent, some now turning away from the spectacle.

“I don’t like that, Ed. I don’t like that one bit, and I don’t like the idea of you being here anymore if you're going to be that disrespectful.”

Ashton held his hand out and Maeve saw his fingertips glow red with arcane energy that pooled for a split second and then shot out towards Ed’s head --

A horrible wailing shriek, and she saw that Ed’s ear had been sliced, cut diagonally to give a gruesome impression of a pointed tip.

Maeve’s blood ran cold.

“Shoddy magic, shoddy cheating,” Ashton said, full of venom. “And pointed ears. You must have unsavory heritage. Get out.”

Ed, wheezing breaths and covering his bleeding ear with his hands, stumbled roughly out of his chair and rushed, tripping, out the door.

Ashton calmly put the gold from the table into his coinpurse, then stood. Maeve looked quickly down at her drink as she heard his footsteps approach. The silent room began to slowly fill with the murmur of voices again.

Castian’s blue-skinned tiefling hand entered her field of vision on the table, one finger gently pointing to her left. Very subtly, her heart racing, Maeve lifted her eyes.

Ashton was holding the masterwork key out as he walked away from them, ready to open the door, and she got one good look at the patterns of its teeth as he passed. 

She left shortly after the incident, downing her half-drank ale into her uneasy stomach after Castian returned to the bar. Ashton didn’t emerge from the room immediately, and she wanted to slip away while she had the chance.

The streets felt colder than usual, and it wasn’t until she’d shut the door of her room at the Dove that she finally was able to try to relax the tension in her shoulders.

That had been… Disturbing. Horrifying. Ashton had a temper, and he had power. Not just sway at Foxtail -- the members hadn’t looked surprised at all by his actions -- but magical power, as Castian had said. A quick-cast, powerful spell, plus the ability to sense even a hint of the arcane. It wasn’t common that humans could react to it so rapidly; that took years of practice, or particular and permanent spellwork.

Maeve looked at the walls of her room, which her eyes could still see were glowing with several spells. All she wanted was to lay down to sleep. Whether Castian was protecting her or scrying on her, she didn’t know.

After a moment, she took off her clothes without ceremony, and tucked herself into bed. Sleep came to her swiftly.

A voice, both close and far away; a familiar, masculine voice, low and murmuring.

“...Maeve…”

She felt herself make a little noise, still half in sleep and groggy.

“Look at me, Maeve.”

Castian’s voice… Was she dreaming? She pried her eyes open and began trying to focus and shake off the sleep…

He was leaning over her, his eyes so bright and close, his lips turned upwards in a smile.

“Wh… wh --”

He extended his hand over her face before she could react.

“Nighty-night, Maeve.”

Arcane energy bloomed forth from his palm, engulfing her vision, penetrating into her eyes and head. Her confused morning thoughts were easily swept into the blue, tingling light, as though they were intangibly soft. As she felt the control seeping into her, going almost directly from sleep to yielding, growing emptiness, her body throbbed with unconscious desire… A steady pumping of pleasure as the magic spread into her, consuming her as she realized she was watching it drain her consciousness and will, like a light getting smaller and smaller until it just…

…winked out into dark bliss.

Her thoughts were completely blunted, but it was as though she was watching everything happen from behind her eyes. Castian smiled at her, lowering his hand.

“Now, Maeve,” he said, and his voice sounded fuzzy. “I’m going to go inside your head and make you do this for me.”

Castian closed his eyes now and Maeve, in her stupor, felt a sort of buzzing in her spine and head. Her body sat up and moved her arms. She wasn’t doing this; she didn’t have the ability to create the impulses to control her body.

She was standing now, getting dressed, gathering her satchel of tools and walking over to the mirror. She could see her body surrounded by blue magic, her eyes alight with energy but dull and dim as though they weren’t reflecting natural light. Her mouth smirked, and then her puppeted body began walking out the door, locking it behind her as she could only helplessly, blankly watch.

The sun was just barely peeking up over the horizon and the streets were quiet. When she got near the alley, she flipped her hood up and felt her muscles engage to make her lightfooted, glancing around before slipping down the side of the building. There was no doorguard, and Maeve felt herself stop before the entrance.

Her hand extended, and she felt a rush of unfamiliar arcane energy flow through her arm, down to her fingers and out into the doorknob. There was a clicking sound, and her body crouched once more, carefully entering and shutting the door behind her.

Another surge of magic from her core that made her aware of the lack of living presence in the room. She simply watched, dazed, as she now approached the locked, glowing door in the dark corner.

Both hands extended, magic projecting out that caused the spelled door to turn mundane. Now, she was rustling in her satchel for the lockpicking set, and bringing the tools to the keyhole.

“Be a good girl for me, Maeve.” The words were directly in her head, right up flush against her diminished consciousness, and she could do nothing but obey. Mindlessly, automatically, her hands began to work -- more efficiently than she’d ever picked a lock, simply doing exactly what needed to be done to hit pin after pin. Patiently, without nerves, and without thought.

The lock clicked, control consumed her, and she walked into the room.

It was small; dusty with many papers and a desk and chair. She began carefully looking through the parchment and books, leaving one exactly as she found it before checking another.

Finally, she picked up a blank piece of parchment, and her hands glowed with arcane energy, revealing scrawled words.

Names -- elven names. Dates. Times. Numbers. Her eyes scanned the page, her mind somehow processed the information, but she felt nothing of it except the sense of being used in the most perfect, doll-like way. Her vision lingered on two words now at the top of the page -- “South Dock.”

Another burst of magic and the paper became blank again, replaced back to where it was before. Her legs were carrying her out of the room; she was casting a spell on the door and closing it as she left. She walked briskly back, down the street, into the Dove, up the stairs, into her room where Castian’s body sat, eyes closed next to the bed.

Her hands placed down her satchel, stripped off her top, and she sat down onto the bed, laying backwards.

The magical, controlling presence left her now, but her mind was still dark and placid. Castian appeared above her, and he held out his hand once more.

This time, he smiled but said nothing as an arcane, unconscious sleep was laid upon her body and mind.