Things changed between us. I didn’t notice at first, but over time, I stopped being able to get words in. Whenever I would try to say…anything, a look from her, a gesture, a movement, and whatever I meant to say would be lost to distraction.

Then one day after we dallied inside the gem, she left—but I didn’t. She came back, we played, and after a while she left again. Then she left me alone for a while, and my head gradually cleared. I tried to think myself back out of the gem…and I couldn’t.

Hours later—long enough for me to grow first angry, then scared—she returned. I demanded, “What’s happened?” But she shushed me—and, horrified, I obeyed.

“You sold yourself to me,” she said. “If you had used me without caring, or thought you had the right, you’d have been immune. But your conscience knew you were doing wrong, and so it gave you to me, bit by bit.” She smiled, her tail swishing in satisfaction. “And since I know that turnabout is fair play, I’m immune, too.”

And she told me to come to her, and I did.