Iris's plan hadn't quite worked. Well, it had partially worked. She had made it to the Shadewalker's Guild Hall, after all. However, her hope had been that Talan would lead her here – perhaps his father or some other shadewalker would be able to see to him – but as he had only been interested in giving directions, this would have to do.

She had very nearly walked straight past the guild hall. Lyndemar was a tall city with towering buildings made of brick and stone and terra cotta tiles. As day turned into evening and then night, bright arc lamps hissed and flickered with electricity throughout wealthier parts of the city. At one point, Iris had even seen a bank clad in green marble and gleaming mahogany scrollwork which seemed to stretch for ages towards the sky. In contrast, the Shadewalker's Guild Hall concealed itself between two multi-story hotels as a mere infant of a building. Rough stucco covered the front of the guild hall. Perhaps it may have once been whitewashed over, but the city's smog had since painted the building a dirty shade of grey, now poorly lit by a nearby gaslight that had yet to be updated.

It seemed to hide in the shadows, just like its members.

Iris tugged the little packet of foliage from her pocket and examined it. If it was, as she suspected, from Talan's flask, then perhaps his Eliana wasn't being entirely honest with him. Was he being drugged? Perhaps with a love potion? Amongst the leaves, she identified a few soggy rose petals and bits of lavender and chamomile, but certainly none of these would have explained why the water had tasted so terrible. Then again, the bundle felt slightly warm to touch. And what was that? Clumps of hair?

She huffed a disgusted sigh. Of course, it was just some silly love potion. Harmless enough, otherwise it would have been regulated to death. Love potions were among the most useless bits of witchcraft that Iris knew of. At best, they were simply placebos with no spellcraft at all, and at worst they were just strong draughts of alcohol that left the drinkers somewhat witless and vulnerable to whichever admirer had the best beautification charm.

The effects should start to wear off now that Talan's flask was free of the bundle. And it hadn't been powerful enough to have addled his wits completely. In fact, it seemed to have been almost purposefully subtle. Clever, how Talan's lady friend had prepared it to stay in the flask and affect even untainted water. Eliana must be a fair bit more advanced in witchcraft than Talan had let on.

No, she was just being silly. Plain and simple. There was no need for her to be here. And really, she should be trying to catch a ship right now. There was no telling when Tilda Veil would be able to track her to Lyndemar. And even if she did go in, it was still the Shadewalker's Guild Hall – someone could let Tilda know that she had been here.

Yes, perhaps she was being silly. Talan was a shadewalker. He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. But still, the knowledge that his father had been wary enough of Eliana to try marrying Talan off at a moment's notice gnawed at her.

Iris paced in front of the guild hall's small wooden door, not even bothering to take in her surroundings anymore. She was unsure of what to do, and her thoughts clattered around her brain like broken bits of unmatched crockery.

Iris's mind was made up for her soon enough. The little door to the guild hall opened, and a grizzled old man stuck his head out, cutting off her pacing.

"Ma'am, either you come in and state your business or leave. I'll not have you wearing a trough in the pavement on the front step."

Iris wrapped her fist a little tighter around the packet of greenery. "Oh, yes – my business," she said, and then straightened her back. She hadn't the slightest clue if Talan's father had even come back here yet. "I'm looking for Mr. Adrian Colt. If he is not available, I would like to leave a message for him."

The man at the door narrowed his eyes. "What sort of message?" he asked.

"I'm afraid that's my private business. Have you a spare pen and a sheet of paper I could borrow?"

"Who's asking?" said a new voice – deep and fairly reminiscent of Talan's.

Iris whirled around. Behind her stood a tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark coat. His tousled brown hair was streaked with grey under his hat, as was his beard, and his eyes were as hard as flint. He looked her over once.

"I see," he said. "It's you." He took a step forward. "Where is my son?"

That brief statement was enough to identify the man for Iris. And he must recognize her too, perhaps from previous work for her father. His look was cold enough to freeze blood. Iris fought the temptation to take a step back. Instead, she kept her eyes level with his gaze and held her chin high.

"You are Mr. Adrian Colt, I presume?"

"I am."

"I must speak to you, privately," said Iris.

Mr. Colt simply folded his arms. A moment passed, but Iris did not wilt under his gaze. Finally, he huffed a sigh.

"Very well, my office," he said, brushing past her and through the guild hall door. Iris hurried to follow, quietly thanking the grizzled old man who now held the door for her.

Adrian led her through the dusty entrance hall and down a narrow corridor paneled in dark, chipped wood. A threadbare runner muffled the sounds of their shoes against the floor. It may have once been various shades of red, but the colors and designs woven into it had long since faded past recognition. Soft light from oil lamps flickered at regular intervals from brass wall sconces. One of them had a rather large crack running right through its floral, acid-etched shade. It seemed that the guild house's decor was rather out of date, but Iris made no effort to voice that observation.

Finally, they reached a door with Adrian's name stamped on it, etched into a dull brass plaque. He opened the door and gestured for Iris to enter.

It was very warm inside, and also very dark – too dark for Iris to see. There was no window. She nearly managed to knock over a rickety end table before remembering the glowing stone that Talan had given her during their frantic run through the woods. She had pocketed it sometime early that morning. Now, she reached for her stone again, but when she drew it out, it remained dark.

An oil lamp came to life at Adrian's desk, casting away the shadows. Adrian stood next to it, looming large in the small office. There was no sign of a match that lit the lamp. Iris briefly caught sight of a little cot on the other side of the desk, and then she noticed the spells.

They covered nearly every inch of the office: silver charms, rabbits' feet, enchanted cords and rings and gloves. There was a shelf that was simply fit to burst with potions stoppered in colorful vials of every size. The heat that they gave off wasn't unpleasant, but it might become so after a long stay in here. Iris found herself wary of taking a single step further for fear of disturbing some unnoticed bit of witchcraft.

"I had been under the impression that you had a prejudice against witchcraft," said Iris, recalling what Talan had first said about his father hating Eliana.

"Whatever would make you think that?" said Adrian, gruffly. "It's a useful tool in the right hands."

"And in the wrong hands?" asked Iris. Adrian did not answer that question. Instead, he sat down behind his desk and gestured for Iris to do the same. There was only a rickety stool available, so Iris took her seat gingerly.

"Your father and brother are fine, by the way. They're staying at a local hotel under false names. Now, you said that you needed to speak in private," Adrian stated. "I recommend that you start by telling me where my son ran off to."

Iris nodded. She imagined that Adrian already knew the answer, but she spoke anyways. He had the sound of a man on the verge of losing his patience.

"He is in Lyndemar – we traveled here together by train. However, as soon as we disembarked, he said that he needed to see a Mrs. Eliana Prewett and left. It is my understanding that he feels rather strongly for her."

"Misses?" said Adrian. Iris inclined her head. Perhaps Talan had not been quite so forthcoming with his father as he had been with her when describing his lady friend.

"Yes, I've been led to believe that she is a widow. Your son mentioned that she had been rather distraught over the loss of her late husband until they met."

Adrian had slumped into his chair and was running a hand over his face. "Well, that's just fucking grand," he muttered. "And all that time you were together, you didn't kiss Talan, did you?"

Iris made an indignant choking sound. "I should hope not!" she said. "I've known the man for barely a day, and he has made it quite clear that he is already involved with another woman. I can't simply be going around, throwing myself at men at random. What a ridiculous thought!"

She cut herself off quickly. Adrian was glaring at her. But then he sighed.

"It was worth a try. My son's been bewitched by that girl. I make it my business to know the local witches in the area – their names, their licenses, whether their spells are any good in a pinch – and this Eliana just shows up out of nowhere one day, and Talan's in love with her in the blink of an eye. It reeks of witchcraft – the illegal kind." He shifted in his seat. "Under the right circumstances, a kiss will work just as good as any cursebreaker at shocking a spell off of someone."

Iris scoffed. She was thoroughly unsurprised by the revelation about Talan. "Yes, well, perhaps you should have led with that or found someone else. I'm sure that a brothel –" Iris clamped a hand over her mouth in horror before she could say anything further.

Oh dear. That was too far. But she had been annoyed to find out that she had been forced to run through the woods in the dead of night to avoid a marriage that had been cooked up purely because this silly old man had thought that his son should try kissing a woman other than Eliana.

For his part, Adrian simply shook his head and got up, examining and collecting different trinkets around the room. Instead of angry, he now seemed resigned.

"That's not how it works," he said. "I said under the right circumstances, a kiss can shock someone out of a spell. It only works for certain kinds of spells, and there has to be some degree of chemistry between the two, otherwise you'd need a witch who's licensed as a cursebreaker instead."

"Chemistry," Iris deadpanned. "You believe that we would have developed chemistry immediately after a forced marriage?"

"You would have eventually," said Adrian. He was now filling his coat pockets and a belt pouch with the trinkets he'd collected. "Your father's hired me plenty of times over the years, Miss McClaine, and I've watched you grow up. I'm well aware of your temperament. And at the very least, it would have kept Talan away from Eliana long enough to get this sorted out and given him access to land in the long run."

"Oh? You're sure of that, are you?" Iris shot back. She was getting irritated again. "How do you know that neither of us wouldn't have stubbornly decided to hate each other? And quite frankly, even if you had informed me of this beforehand, I would not have forced or coerced or surprised a kiss out of him. That would be simply horrid! If he really is bewitched, as you say he is, how do you know that he doesn't harbor any true feelings for Mrs. Prewett underneath that? And even if he doesn't, what if he were to despise me for kissing him while he was not in his right mind? I have rather convincing reasons to believe that he was being drugged."

Iris smacked the little bundle of greenery on the desk in front of Adrian. Her face was flaming. This was all rather improper. "This came out of a flask that Mrs. Prewett gifted your son. Any water that came into contact with it tasted unbelievably terrible to me, but Talan noticed nothing wrong. This only came out after I had been rather vigorous with dumping the water out. I imagine that the effects should start wearing off soon."

Adrian plucked the packet up off the desk and held it close to his face, slowly peeling it apart. "Huh," he muttered. "Now isn't that interesting."

"Yes," said Iris. "I imagine that there are quite a few interesting details when it comes to Mrs. Prewett. Talan mentioned that the woman had even been a maid in Senator Kharten's household before taking up witchcraft."

At that, Adrian's head jerked back up. He stared at her. "What did you just say?" he asked. 

Chapter word count: 2269

Cumulative word count: 9906