The pale, watery glow of false dawn-- more sensed than seen at this early hour-- filtered through the tall windows of the Tower and half-roused Glossaria from her slumbers. It had been a highly emotional time for her of late, a sensation she was not used to nor entirely comfortable with. The discovery of Charoli's hidden compulsion, walking in on Meghan and Vallel-- kissing!-- and breaking his compulsion as well... her miserable evening on the Hall... her tension-fraught reconciliation with Vallel, followed by their violent trysting.... Gloss shifted in bed a little, feeling heat rise in her belly just thinking about that night. And then, his horrible nightmare of the girl (oh her poor Vallel!) ...and returning home only to have Lisl deliver Gloss's still-bloody and exhausted Mistress to their doorstep.

Gloss groaned and turned away from the window, wanting only to sleep it all away-- and suddenly realized she wasn't alone in her bed. Long, silky, white hair cascaded over the pillow beside her, faintly shining even in the dim light that reached them. A single violet lock spilled carelessly over a high-browed forehead, smoothed in sleep. Mistress Zoya. Oh, Erdian, had Mistress Zoya come to her in need, her injuries somehow worse, only to find her miserable apprentice asleep? Yet, Zoya seemed to be sleeping quite peacefully also, why-- Gloss looked around the room wildly, finally taking in the broad, soft bed, the richer furnishings. Oh, gods above, what was this? What was she doing in Mistress Zoya's room? How had she come here? She could remember changing into her sleeping gown, getting into her own bed, grateful for once at the prospect of several hours' rest. And then--? She pulled the sheets (silk, she noted) up tight to her face, feeling her heart hammer in her chest. How-- her thumb brushed against something on her neck, and a faint jingling of metal answered the touch. She moved her hands down to explore, and recognized it.

The collar. The collar she had purchased at that small, dark shop from that small, dark man with the leering eyes, while she had been under the influence of Charoli's suggestion. Black leather, set with thick steel rings at regular intervals. A slave collar. Gloss could remember its purchase, remember the dark man's hot fingers caressing the skin of her neck (and more than her neck... the memory made her shudder now, though at the time she had welcomed his willfully straying hands, his knowing touch) as he fitted it to her.... She could remember stowing it away in the bottom of her clothes press, under the bloodied yellow ballgown, ready for when she would offer herself to Zoya as a slave so that Zoya might truly become her Mistress in body as well as mind and heart, for so had Charoli managed to utterly pervert her love.... It was to be her uniform, she remembered, the only article of clothing she would wear in her beloved Mistress's presence, unless it pleased Her otherwise. She had read about such in some of her... less pleasant books, studied each passing reference carefully and tucked them all away in her carefully ordered, wholly obsessed brain. With a growing sense of dread, Gloss peeked under the covers. Aside from the collar, she was completely naked. And yet-- and yet-- she had been freed from the compulsion, Zoya herself had freed her, so how? Dear Lords of Chaos, what had she DONE?

Gloss shut her eyes tightly, forcing herself to remember. She had dressed for bed, gotten into her own bed, of that she was certain... and she slept quickly, she remembered that, not even a book to see her off to Nod. And then, and then... THINK girl! But the "and then" was nothing but a dream-- wasn't it? Gloss squeezed her legs together as she remembered vague details of the dream-- the erotic fantasy, call it what it is, scholar! Donning the collar, kneeling at Zoya's feet, crawling meekly into the Mistress's bed at Her command, lying curve to luscious-- no! Gloss put her hands over her face, shaking her head in an attempt to rid herself of the dreamlike flashes parading before her eyes, feeling the involuntary flush of heat bloom again on her skin. No! It was only a dream, she didn't DO such things now, she didn't dwell on them, Vallel would be horrified.... And yet, here she was. Logic told her that one or the other could be true, not both, and empirical evidence strongly favored the latter. She peeked out from behind her hands to study her sleeping Mistress again, that beautiful, beloved face. Surely, Mistress Zoya would never--! Would she? But Glossaria's carefully ordered brain implacably recalled her Mistress's curt references to her hard apprenticeship, how she had met her beloved Darin.... And, trapped in indecision, freezing like a frightened doe under her Mistress' coverlet, Glossaria saw the eyelashes beginning to flutter....

Zoya usually woke all at once, fully conscious and ready to begin the day. But then, she hadn't usually completely drained a square block of magic in less than an hour, and then had to bleed half of it back through her own system. Her mind - the place Tyl had told her would have held her psionics, if she had that ability, still felt scraped raw by the abuse.

She half-remembered Lisl carrying her home... The fear in Glossaria's eyes melting into relief... A cup of hot tea, or was it broth? The cool pillow against her cheek, and blessed, healing, darkness.

Slowly, Zoya swam toward consciousness. The bed felt strange and familiar all at once. Something nagged at her memory. The impression that cradled her was not quite deep enough... Someone else was in the bed. Marten, she thought, fuzzily wondering if he'd come to his senses. A moment later, she was awake enough to summon mild irritation: He'd come to her bed without so much as apologizing for his...

Not Marten, the nagging told her. No. The body next to hers wasn't big enough, not heavy enough, for Marten. Lisl, then? Stayed to guard her as she'd done before? More quickly, Zoya began to awaken.

The body next to hers shuffled suddenly and moved away, and Zoya snapped awake with the movement. On the far edge of the bed, sheets clutched tightly under her chin, was Glossaria. Zoya blinked once, slowly, fighting sleep-fog.

"Gloss..?" Her voice rasped and slurred, fighting exhaustion. The girl's eyes were huge, widened with something like panic. Zoya considered her for a moment, then looked around the room. All seemed normal. "What's the matter, Gloss?" Zoya sat up and ran her fingers through her hair to get it out of her face before looking back at her apprentice.

Glossaria was blushing. Furiously.

As Zoya opened her eyes and addressed her, Gloss again scrabbled back, nearly falling off the edge of her side of the bed. One bare leg slid briefly from under the sheets before being just as quickly withdrawn. Oh, gods above and below, she thought, what am I to DO? I don't even know what I've DONE for-- to-- her. Maybe... maybe it happened, maybe she asked me here, oh, Mistress....

"I--" Her voice came out on a squeak, and she cleared her throat before continuing. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-- to-- oh, Mistress--" As the word passed her lips, she blushed deeper and snapped her mouth closed, painfully aware of its double meaning now.

In the moment of Glossaria's scramble, Zoya noted the bare leg, and suddenly realized, with the clarity of a bell ringing, that Lisl had not put Glossaria in her bed to keep watch over her. Her mind splintered into a dozen threads of thought.

She can't possibly- too young- Vallel woul-What happened? Charoli- dead and- shade took h- Compulsion broken- lingering fragments- Tyl would- What happened? Just pretend- can't- owe her too- WHAT HAPPENED?

Staggered, it took Zoya several long moments to enforce mental order. She was tempted - strongly tempted - to merely get up and go into the bathroom, thus allowing Glossaria the opportunity she so obviouly desired - to escape. But she didn't dare. Whatever this was, if she didn't drag it out into the open right away, it was going to fester in the girl's mind, and she'd already been through so much... And tempting though it was to slam the Mask into place, to hide from the roiling confusion of her own thoughts and emotions, Glossaria deserved better from her than that.

"Glossaria, please relax." she said softly, carefully not reaching out to comfort her - as much to hide the trembling in her hands as to avoid panicking Glossaria. "I don't... All I remember after Lisl brought me home is drinking some tea and then going to bed. What are you doing in here? I won't be mad, I promise." She tried to smile reassuringly, entirely uncertain of her success.

"I... then you... didn't c-- ask for me, Mistress?" She bit her lip again as she cudgelled her shock-stiff brain for another, less volatile term, but her muscles relaxed, slightly. Her tense grip on the sheet loosened, a little. "I... I don't know, I just woke up and..." Gloss broke off for a moment as another thought occurred to her: she had no direct evidence that Charoli was, in fact, dead or beaten. Mistress Lisl-- she winced, mentally-- had explained her injury, but she had seemed so distracted and in a hurry, and Gloss had been too concerned over Zoya's injuries to request the details... yes, there were the injuries, but... what if Charoli had escaped again? She examined her own feelings... they were nowhere near as overwhelming as last week's, but she couldn't deny what she still felt.

What if... oh, horror, what if she had her mental hooks in apprentice and... and Mistress both, now, had made them... sport together for her amusement, only to forget in the morning? What if... (silk sliding over skin sliding over warm skin command me Mistress oh the exquisite softness of Her lips) what if it was REAL? She stared wide-eyed at her Mistress, confusion, horror, love, and... and yes, want, all warring within her, making her tremble. "Oh... Mistress Zoya, please..." Before she was fully aware that she was moving, Gloss had slid across the silky expanse of the bed and pressed her lips to Zoya's, feeling the softness she thought, until now, she had only imagined... and yet... on this, emotion and reason agreed: how could a fantasy born out of ignorance have matched delicious reality so *well*?

It was Zoya's turn to scramble backwards. "No, Glossaria, don't-" She broke off, seeing the light of - was it hope? - in her eyes falter suddenly, and begin the descent back toward shame and confusion.

You have better control than that, a voice snarled out of her memory. Stop waffling about and get on with it! Glossaria had leapt back herself at Zoya's reaction and lay there propped on her arms, indecently displayed like an overturned crab. The collar stood out in stark contrast to her bright hair and parchment-pale skin, the rings jingling gaily like bells at her every movement. Her face had totally drained of color, and as she stared at Zoya with an expression of mixed despair, confusion, and longing, her lower lip began to tremble violently. Zoya paused again, seeing in full the collar fastened around her apprentice's throat. Her stomach heaved, and her own throat tightened in sudden panic.

Stop that! You know what you have to do; the longer you wait, the worse it will be, the voice in her memory warned. Zoya forced herself to a semblance of calm, and then reached across the space between them and put her hands on Glossaria's shoulders. "I'm sorry, Glossaria. You startled me. I didn't mean to upset you."

For one heartbeat, Zoya thought Glossaria would actually relax. But suddenly her face crumpled with misery, and she threw herself into Zoya's arms, wailing. With a soft sigh, Zoya held the girl while the worst of the storm raged, mentally damning Charoli, heaping sufferings on her in the torturous depths of her mind. Finally, Glossaria's sobs slowed, and Zoya carefully reached across the bed, snagging the edge of her robe and dragging it closer. She pulled it around Glossaria's shoulders, and then gently disengaged from the girl's embrace. "Put that on. Please." The collar snagged her eye again, and she frowned slightly as her stomach churned again. "And please, Glossaria... take that... that thing off."

"Y-yes, M...m...milady." Glossaria began obediently pulling the robe's sleeves over her arms, still sniffling. Zoya got up and walked into her closet. She pulled on a pair of loose cotton pants, and shrugged a plain robe over her head. She turned back toward the room, but caught a glimpse of Glossaria sitting dejectedly on the edge of the bed, turning the collar over in her hands. Zoya sighed, and leaned her forehead for a moment against the cool wall. "Mother of gods," Zoya whispered. "What a tangle. Erdian, give me strength."

She took a deep breath, carefully forced herself to calm, and walked back out to face the girl. "Now," she said, sitting carefully next to Glossaria, "Start at the beginning."

With a visible effort, Gloss stopped turning the obviously offensive piece of leather over in her hands, setting it down on the night table with careful, precise movements, as if it-- or she-- might break into a million pieces with mishandling. She stared at it for several long moments, not able to meet Zoya's eyes, and began to speak quietly. An occasional tremor in her voice betrayed the vortex of emotions still swirling uneasily within.

"I don't know how I got here, truly, M-- milady. You must believe me. All I have memory of is changing for bed into my sleeping robe--" she paused the space of a breath to glance again at the collar, "and getting into my own bed to sleep. I was... well, so much has happened recently. I was exhausted. I can r-remember dreaming...." She trailed off for a long moment and pulled the robe more closely about her, squirming uncomfortably as her skin flushed again with color. She turned her head away, refusing to look at even the hem of Zoya's robe. "At least... I thought it was a dream. It was very... vivid. Erotic. So real...."

Gloss took a deep, shuddering breath, obviously having difficulty keeping her feelings in check as she continued. "You... were my Mistress. You had called, had... commanded me to get up, and summoned me to your presence. So I rose from my bed and dressed," she glanced at the collar again, "and came to you and knelt before you, as was proper. You desired p-pleasure, and bestowed on me the honor of giving it to you. You..." Gloss swallowed, her breathing ragged. "You ordered me into your bed, and I... I... gave myself up entirely to the work of pleasing you. I loved you so! And... and when you were satisfied, you drew me up, and gave me your lips..." Gloss touched her hand to her own lips. "So soft, and warm... not like... V-Vallel's." Gloss blinked back silent tears. "I woke to find myself here, like this, with no recollection of... of how. Or why." Her voice took on a plaintive, despairing note. "And it had all seemed so real, I..." She covered her face with her arm, dampness soaking into her sleeve. "I had to kiss you, and you... you hated it, I'm so so sorry!" Gloss sat there, shoulders trembling with unvoiced sobs, her face hidden as she awaited her mentor's verdict on her crimes.

Glossaria's distress finally pierced through the roil of emotion that Zoya was fighting to contain, and she laid a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Glossaria... No, no, I didn't... Believe me, I didn't hate it. But what you dreamed was a... a dream. I think... It sounds like Charoli's compulsion wasn't... fully removed. Slunk back into your sleeping mind, perhaps, making you sleepwalk..."

Gloss looked up, her cheeks tracked with tears but something resembling hope in her eyes. "Sleepwalking? So I wasn't... actively controlled? She didn't control us both, and make us forget somehow? It was my subconscious...." She chewed on her lower lip, thinking. "That's... logical. It fits the evidence at hand." She looked up again, her voice much smaller and more timid. "You really didn't hate it? You think I could be... desireable? I know Vallel thinks so, but he loves me, and-- and," she paused a long moment, and continued in a quieter voice, "Val feels horrible that he did so much with so many women, and fears I'll hate him for it. He told me that, in selfish moments, he almost wishes I'd... done something too, just so we could be.... well, balanced, I suppose." Gloss laced and unlaced her fingers, studying her hands carefully in their constant movement. "I... I'm grateful that nothing I did seriously compromised any of my friends, but..." A note of anguish crept into her voice. "I really wish someone had... desired me."

Glossaria's plaintive tone was not something manufactured, Zoya was sure. In her waking mind, calming now from the confusion and fright, she was again herself. Zoya smiled gently, laying a hand along her cheek. "You are a beautiful, desireable person, Glossaria. Truly. That none of your friends accepted those invitations is a testament to their love for you - that they did not want to see you hurt. Had you been less obviously distressed, less abrupt with those invitations - had you gone to strangers... You would have discovered quickly - and, I fear, much less happily - how desireable you are."

She stood and walked to the window, opening the shutters on her favorite view of the Dragonsmere. For several long moments, she looked out on the water, letting its stillness speak to her. Finally, with a sigh, she turned back, took Glossaria's hands in her own.

"Glossaria, I love you. You are... the daughter of my heart. I want you to be... happy, and healthy, and strong. What I have seen tells me that Vallel makes you happy. This..." She picked up the collar and looked at it with revulsion. "This is not a road to happiness, Glossaria. Not for you. Certainly not for me." Suddenly unable to bear its harsh jangling, Zoya walked back over to the window and threw it angrily. The window flickered as the collar passed through it, and the view of the Dragonsmere showed no trace of its existence.

Gloss watched the collar go without regret, her mind echoing with Zoya's words. She knew how difficult it was for Zoya to put words to her emotions... she thought she'd understood well enough how the priestess mage felt, and that was enough. She'd said as much to Lord Kevil when he'd spoken to her on Zoya's behalf. But... somehow, it was more real now. Tangible. She might take the love in Zoya's voice, in her concern and in her words, and wrap herself in it, keep herself warm in the coldest wastes. "Mistress, you've never... said that to me before." There was a note of wonder in her voice as she stared wide-eyed up at her mentor, and realized suddenly that the familiar word's unpleasant echo was gone from her mind.

Zoya nodded. "I know, and I should have, long past. When Masato kidnapped you, the fear..." She sighed. "I'm sorry, Glossaria. I hope you'll forgive me."

Be calm, she thought. Just... say it. Tell her how you feel. "I am... honored, Glossaria, and touched, that you care for me so much. I am furious that Charoli was able to pervert your feelings so far. I am sad, that the remnants of her tampering came out this way. And I am worried, very worried, that she may have done you long-lasting harm."

Glossaria dropped her eyes again, studying the familiar pattern of flagstones on the floor, her voice reflecting some of that stony hardness. "Charoli... wanted Vallel. I could see she did, from the beginning. I didn't like her being near him, with him all the time at the School. The way she looked at him, the way she danced with him at the Mayor's Ball..." She trailed off, frowning. "I was just an obstacle to her, but I think it... amused her to corrupt me, see me prostitute myself in front of everyone I knew." Gloss put a hand to her forehead. "I was so cursedly easy for her... she may have put the torch to my desire, but..." Gloss looked up at Zoya again, her eyes haunted. "The ideas, the fantasies, were all mine. My love of experiment, of new knowledge... It... felt right, and I had it all reasoned out so clearly, what I was doing, and when that failed, the... the emotions just took over." She swallowed, looked down, and met Zoya's gaze again with clear eyes and an air of her usual self-possession. "It wasn't all Charoli's doing. I cannot in conscience tell you that I have never... thought about such things in the past, about you." Gloss looked up at her Mistress shyly, wistfully. "You're so kind, and strong, and wise, and beautiful... a person would be a fool not to dream of you, about... pleasing you... at least a little." She shook her head. "I do love you, Mistress Zoya. Were it not for you, I would never have known this world... I would have lived and died between the pages, a-- a closed book myself, if you will, never read. And... I think I do want you, at least a little bit. But I swear, I would never have made such advances to you without Charoli's tampering, I respect you too deeply for that. I... I am sorry. I never wanted to cause you such distress."

Zoya slid an arm around her apprentice in a comforting hug. "It was not you who distressed me, Glossaria. You were only Charoli's unwitting tool. I suppose it is to her credit that she... affected so many with so little effort. As for your ideas and fantasies..."

She thought, then, of Vasiliy. Had he felt this way? Zoya had loved her master with something beyond adoration. She would have done anything, anything he had asked, and only blessed the opportunity to serve him. Her adolescence had harbored more than a few secret fantasies in which he had permitted her to prove her devotion... Had he known? she wondered. He must have. And if his feeling for her was anything akin to her feeling for Glossaria... The love, the responsibility... She wondered suddenly if he had picked up first Darin and then Kevil, only to distract her half-formed fantasies from himself.

She smiled at Glossaria. "... I think it must be fairly common, to want to... please, to place oneself entirely in the hands of one trusted... I know I felt similarly toward my master." She grinned. "Perhaps one day, when you have an apprentice of your own, you will be similarly regarded."

Glossaria blushed a rather startling shade of crimson at this, but kept silent.

Zoya paused, considering responsibilities. "I think we should go see Tyl'gania, see if she can root the remnants of Charoli's influence out. Now that the brat is gone, I think it would fade on its own in a short while, but if it is rooted so deeply in you, causing you so much pain..." Zoya smiled at Glossaria. "I will not have you hurt, when I can prevent it."

Gloss returned Zoya's smile with an almost worshipful one of her own. "You mean, she's-- she's really gone? You killed her? Oh, Mistress Zoya... thank you!" Glossaria surged to her feet and impulsively hugged the older woman. "Oh!" She started with a sudden thought, and smiled. "You won't have to overexert yourself to visit Mistress Tyl'gania (after all, Mistress Lisl was very firm that you shouldn't). She's here! Mistress Tyl'gania, that is. She and Jelarthna both. Xarroch asked if we could room them here at the Tower as well, and Jelarthna does have a standing invitation..." She peered at Zoya. "You don't mind, do you? They were both so exhausted, Xarroch put them right to bed in a room off the Green Hall. So we can see Mistress Tyl at breakfast!" Gloss looked very pleased at this solution. "And in the meantime, you can go back to bed and get some more of the rest that I... disturbed." Gloss looked troubled for a moment, and then smiled. "Is there anything you need, Mistress?"

Zoya smiled again. "I don't mind - indeed, had I not been so brain-burnt, I might have suggested it myself. So then. I will go back to sleep, and you, as well - you have obviously not been resting well. Before you go back to bed, have the Staff bring you a good strong mug of Kava tea, all right? And then, when we are both fully rested, we will speak with Tyl and see what can be done."