Chapter One
Omen

Winter had come to Ard Skellig, and that meant one thing: ice skating. The youth of the various Skellige clans were expected to master water in solid form as well as liquid, and flitted about on their little skates practically from the time they could walk.

"Ow! Freya's ploughin' tits, that hurt!"

Some were better at it than others.

"Mind yer tongue Hjalmar, or I'll cut it out and serve it to ye for dinner!"

"And stop skatin' like a baboon." Cerys an Craite, standing over her brother, extended her hand to help him up. He swatted it aside, and slipped a couple more times before standing on his own.

"What's a baboon?" he asked. "And where'd you hear about it?"

"From me!"

A young, ashen haired girl with vibrant green eyes and an enchanting smile skated by them, then doubled back and halted herself right next to them. "We've been learning all about animals from Uncle Ermion. Baboons are native to Zerrikania, and they live in little tribes just like people. They have fur everywhere but their arse, and their arses are red just like yours right now!"

Hjalmar tried to lunge at her, but fell hard as she skated casually out of the way, almost splitting his chin. "Ow!"

Unable to control herself, Cerys started laughing. "Good one, Ciri!"

Ciri flashed her a smile, then started skating circles around them. She sighed and helped Hjalmar to his feet once more. "You alright, ya big oaf?"

"Ah, nothin' to worry about," he said, his eyes tracking Ciri as she moved further off, skating like she was born for it. "I'm gonna marry her someday, you know."

"That right? You marryin' a princess, that'll be the day!"

He crossed his arms. "Fine, don't believe me. But a girl that perfect… well, why bother chasin' any others?"

"Because you'll never catch up with her, dimwit!"

"Wanna bet? I'll race you for it!"

"I'm not as fast as her either, but if ye wanna lose that bad…"

"To the far end of the lake!" he declared, pointing out a spot some hundred meters away. "On your mark, get set, go!"

He started about a half second before she got the chance to react. Cerys dug in hard with her skates, propelling herself forward like an arrow from a bow. Hjalmar was taller and stronger than Cerys, but he was also clumsier. As Ciri proved, skating wasn't about power, but grace.

The truth was, neither of them were close to her skill level. The strange, energetic little girl from Cintra had come into their lives years earlier, though precisely how early Cerys could not remember. She and Hjalmar were the same age, with Cerys trailing behind. She could best Hjalmar in feats of physical skill, and she excelled in her studies, where Cerys was used to being in first. Despite their pride, neither of them resented her for it. Her talent inspired only admiration.

Shaking her head to clear it of distractions, Cerys began to gain on her brother, who was wobbling from the speed. Somehow he remained upright, and by now they were halfway to the finish line.

Leaning to the left, she snaked around another group of children, losing a bit of ground to Hjalmar, who stampeded directly through a small cluster and relied on them to get out of the way. She gritted her teeth and pushed forward, her resolve tempered by her need to be careful.

She spotted a sizeable crack in front of her and hopped deftly over it, landing firmly on the ice again. Hjalmar was looking even more shaky now. They were almost to the finish line.

"You'll never catch me!" Hjalmar sang as he glided forward, and Cerys threw caution to the wind as she lunged forward, focusing only on the finish line. Her heart thundered in her ears, and she could taste copper in her gums. None of it mattered. She had to win. She had to.

In her single-minded zeal, Cerys failed to notice another crack in the ice. The tip of her right skate got trapped, and she tumbled forward, scraping her chin along the ice for a good few meters, along with her knee.

"Haha, yes! I win!" Hjalmar closed his eyes and did a brief victory dance, then noticed what happened. "Cerys!"

Cerys clutched her leg, where her right knee had been scraped raw by the sharp, stinging ice. Touching it felt like being raked across hot coals, and the cold made the pain that much more intense. Her chin was in a similar state. But she didn't cry. It wouldn't do for her to cry. She would lose with dignity, like a lady.

"By the goddess!" a priestess of Freya shuffled up to her and began inspecting the wounds, dragging her off the ice. Her father appeared a minute or so later, making his way towards them by snow rather than by ice.

"You won," she said. "Guess you'll marry her after all."

"Yeah!" Hjalmar pumped his fist in the air. "You okay?"

"Nothing that won't heal."

"Cerys! My daughter! You're hurt!" Crach an Craite stood over her while the priestess applied bandages and salves. He looked genuinely worried, in a way that clashed with the image of a fearless Jarl. But when it came to his daughter, appearances ceased to matter.

She nodded. "Yes Da, but it's me own bleedin' fault. Hjalmar and I were racin'."

"Well it's the last time you'll be doin' that fer a while," he decreed. "Not until you learn to look where you're ploughin' going."

"Okay, Da."

Crach turned to the priestess. "Will she be okay?"

"It's naught but a couple of scrapes. In a couple of weeks it won't even look like she fell. I'm nearly finished here."

"Then I'll stay and wait."

Cerys shook her head. "I'll be fine. I'm just as tough as Hjalmar, you'll see."

Smiling, he patted her red hair affectionately. "I don't doubt it. But I'd be just as worried if he took that fall."

It took another fifteen minutes or so, but eventually her wounds were bandaged, her skates were removed, and she stood by a tree watching the rest of the children zip around on the ice. Crach had taken Hjalmar aside to give him a good tongue lashing over putting his sister in danger, which meant she was alone.

"Are you done skating?"

She jumped. Somehow, in the crunchy snow, on skates, Ciri had moved up next to her completely unnoticed. Maybe she did need to learn to pay attention.

"Aye," she answered. "But only because me Da says I can't."

"You should listen to him. He's wise."

Cerys smiled. "I know."

"Why were you racing?"

"Hjalmar said he plans on chasing you until you marry him."

Scrunching up her face, Ciri's whole body shook and she stuck out her tongue. "Ew. He'd never catch me."

"That's what I told him. Then he wanted to race me to prove me wrong. But we're both slower than you. Always have been."

"Do you want to know the secret?"

Cerys tilted her head to the side. "What?"

"It's not really skating," she said. "It's more like flying. You have to forget the skates are there and just… fly."

"Fly? Like a bird? That's ridiculous."

"It's not! Your brother already calls you Sparrowhawk!"

"My brother also eats worms."

"What's wrong with worms? They're tasty!"

"Because you're a bird, is that why? What kind of bird would you be?"

Ciri shrugged. "I don't know. But I'd be something majestic."

"You sure would." Cerys frowned. "You should get back to skating. Don't need me slowing you down."

"Don't say that." The ashen haired girl smiled at her in a way that made Cerys blush. "If I'm to marry someone, I'd much rather it be you."

Before she could offer anything in reply, Ciri kissed her on the cheek, then hopped back on the ice and skated away.

Cerys awoke in her room, and the remains of the dream began to dissolve into nothing, until she was only left with fragments. Everything about it seemed real, even the pain, but the minute inaccuracies became clearer now that she was awake.

For one thing, it was Hjalmar who had taken a tumble that day, not her. Their father had thoroughly disabused him of the notion of marrying Ciri, and as far as Cerys remembered, the little ashen haired princess had never kissed her. Even so, her cheek felt warm, but that was probably just from the fire that burned in the hearth a short distance to her left.

She stood up and exited the bed, completely bare. Fancy nightgowns and other sleepwear were for continentals, not the Queen of the Skellige Isles. She dressed herself in light armor and furs, retrieving her crown and her knife, then opened her door to face the day.

Cerys had been having that dream for the last week, and each time felt like the first. She had consulted with the priestesses, and with Ermion, and both told her that while dreams could serve as omens, sometimes they merely reflected what was on a person's mind. That didn't make sense, because she hadn't thought of Ciri since the battle against the Wild Hunt, and that happened months ago.

But, as Ermion pointed out, dreams were a window into the subconscious mind. Into hidden thoughts and feelings that manifested on their own. Even still, the old druid was at a loss to explain what it meant. As was she.

She walked into the main hall and joined the guards for breakfast. She had always believed in doing everything alongside the rest of her clan, rather than artificially elevating herself above them. If she had respect, the rest would naturally view her as the leader, regardless of title. Besides, eating alone was boring.

"Good mornin' Sis," Hjalmar said while chewing half a sausage. "You sleep well?"

Fortunately, her brother was of the same mind. He'd already consumed a substantial portion of the feast, and she set to claiming as much of it as she could before it was all devoured. Folan and Vigi the Loon sat on either side of him, with Cerys seated across from the three of them.

"You could say that." She started shoveling eggs into her mouth, biting off a piece of seal jerky and washing it down with some mead. "You huntin' again today?"

"Aye. Set me sights on a bear that's been troublin' Rogne. Folk say it came outta nowhere, massacred some villagers and disappeared into the forest. When they put together a huntin' party to find the bugger, the tracks led nowhere."

"And you reckon you'll find it?" She leaned back and crossed her arms. "Village folk'd be better served hirin' a witcher."

Hjalmar rested his forearm on the table and leaned forward, staring at her with a challenge in his eyes. "Why's that?"

"Because that ain't a bear."

"Whataya mean it's not a bear?"

"Have ye forgotten what attacked the banquet when Birna Bran tried to assassinate all of us? Normal bears only wander into villages looking for food, not to kill. The reason the tracks disappeared is because it turned back into a man."

"Ye got no proof of that."

"Well it's more'n you've got. How much thinkin' did you do before settin' off after the Lord of Undvik?"

"That's rich comin' from a woman who needed a witcher's help to lift a ploughin' curse! I coulda taken on that giant all by meself if I had to!"

"That so?" asked Folan. "I'd have been boiled alive and eaten by trolls were it not for Witcher Geralt, and it were his idea to let Vigi out of that cage. If he hadn't come, you'd have been fighting that giant alone."

"Aye!" Vigi agreed, slamming his tankard against the wood. "Halfway through the fight the giant ripped the cage apart. I would've been crushed!"

"Oh, but didn't you hear him?" Cerys locked eyes with her brother and smirked. "He could have taken that giant all by his lonesome. Might as well have set out for Undvik alone, saved all those men from dyin' for the sake of his pride!"

Hjalmar turned nearly as red as his hair. "You wanna talk about pride? When Geralt found you in Udalryk's old family home, you were near dead because you got in over your head and didn't have anybody to back you up! You'd have died if he hadn't shown up!"

"Seems to me we've got that in common. But at least I didn't endanger anybody other than him and myself!"

"And at least I went out to face the Wild Hunt when they came here!"

"Yes! You and Da both! Leavin' me to do the planning as always! I was issuin' orders the whole time, makin' sure you all didn't get slaughtered in a ploughin' meat grinder! That's just as important as being able to smash someone in the face with an axe!"

She stood up, shifting the table, and he did the same. They glared at each other for nearly a minute, until finally she sighed and shook her head.

"Well go on then. Keep chasin' glory and maybe someday it'll find you. Some of us have work to do."

With that, she left the table and headed to her study. Hjalmar kept standing there for a minute before storming off as well, in the opposite direction. "Let's go, men! Got us a bear to hunt!"

The rest of the men, who had watched this entire display in silence, nodded and followed after him. Watching them from across the large hall, Cerys sighed and whispered something she knew he wouldn't hear.

"Be careful, ya big ape."

A few hours, later, as she dipped a quill back into the inkwell to sign her name on another missive, one of her guards entered the room. The chamber had served as the private study for the Jarls of Clan an Craite for generations, and now it belonged to her. The desk rested directly across from the door, and the hearth was built into a wall that ran parallel to the hallway on the other side, leading out from the main hall. She motioned for the shieldmaiden to enter.

"Beg pardon, my Queen, but there's a guest asking to see you."

"Oh aye? Who?"

"The shieldmaiden opened her mouth to answer, but a second individual stepped into the doorway.

"I think I can introduce myself, thank you."

Cerys could not hide her reaction. She did not pretend to understand various omens, prophecies, or other readings of fate, but she did believe that certain things were meant to be, and could be predicted. The proof of that lay in the fact that Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon now stood before her.

She smiled. "Thank you, Renna. Leave us, please."

Nodding, the shieldmaiden moved out into the hallway, shutting the door behind Ciri. As soon as the door closed, Cerys abandoned all pretenses of decorum and surged across the room, enveloping Ciri in a big bear hug. The other woman did not resist as she picked her up, spun her around, and deposited her back on her feet.

"Ciri! It's been too long! What brings you here?"

"It's nice to see you too," the ashen haired young woman replied. "It's not a terribly long story, but I feel like we should have it over a drink."

"I agree with ye there," she said, heading back over to her desk while Ciri followed. "What're you in the mood for? Mead or spirit?"

"Nothing too strong." She glanced at the desk, which was practically covered in parchments that Cerys had spent the better part of the day looking over. "You've got to keep your head about you."

"Eh, I'm mostly done for today anyway." She started pouring the mead into two small mugs. "Now that the war's over my responsibilities are basically that of a Jarl, and you'd be surprised how little paperwork is involved. The only times I'm really busy are when important decisions have to be made."

"What about repopulating Undvik? Or dealing with Clan Drummond's reprisal for Madman Lugos' death?"

"I see Geralt's been keeping ye apprised of stuff he dumped in my lap." She leaned against the wall and took a sip of her drink, while Ciri sat on the desk and did the same. "But we dealt with that months ago. Hjalmar made himself useful and helped get people back to Undvik, no small task on account of how bloody Ragh Nar Roog happened there. And without Lugos to lead 'em, Clan Drummond folded like a tent in a hurricane after naught but a few skirmishes."

"That first one was my fault, actually," the young woman admitted. "So you reached a peace accord with Nilfgaard?"

"More of an armistice. The Emperor withdrew the invasion out of recognition for us helping you fight the Wild Hunt, and he's focused on the mainland for now. We don't raid ships directly from their fleet and they don't attack us back. Merchants carryin' their goods, on the other hand? Those're fair game."

"And the other Jarls are okay with this?"

"Well, between that and Clan Drummond scamperin' back with their tails twixt their legs, I've got enough respect that they won't rebel. 'Sides, was me that got justice for their firstborns dyin'. Well, and Geralt."

Ciri smiled. "I heard. You really do deserve to be Queen."

"High praise comin' from the daughter of an Emperor."

"Please don't remind me." She held her hand up and waved it as if pushing something away from her face. "That's actually why I'm here. There's practically nowhere on the continent that I'm safe from being discovered by someone who could report back to him that I'm still alive, now that he's taken Novigrad. I was wondering if I could stay on your island for a while."

Cerys laughed. "You know you're always welcome here. Practically grew up side by side, we did. Far as I'm concerned you're one of us."

"That's good to hear. I have coin to rent a room near the port, so I'll just—"

"Oh, no. You're stayin' here in Kaer Trolde, I insist."

Ciri stood, putting her hands in front of her. "I really wouldn't want to impose…"

"And ye won't be. Don't forget we put you up along with the rest of yer family when you were still a lass. Besides, I've got so many rooms in this place I don't know what to do with 'em all."

Smiling and shaking her head, she submitted to the hospitality. "Well at least you'll be close by. We've a lot to catch up on. I barely spoke to anybody last time I was in Skellige."

"Ye had a lot to deal with. Does it feel nice, knowing there's no one chasing after you?"

"There's always someone chasing me," she said, finishing off her drink. "But I needn't run quite so quickly anymore."

"Don't fret, you'll be safe here. And I agree, we're due for a conversation. Another drink?"

She nodded. "Yes please."

"So you're telling me," said Cerys as she poured the last of the bottle, "that you'd been promised control of all Nilfgaard, and you chose to live as a witcher on the Path instead? You could have made a real difference, instead of letting men continue to ruin the world."

Smiling, Ciri accepted the cup and knocked another back. "Far be it from me to suggest the world doesn't need more female rulers. You've been doing a marvelous job of it. But it's not for me. I like being on the road, meeting new people and having adventures. I'm not cut out for ruling anybody, and I never have been. I don't remember much of what my father was like when we lived here all those years ago, but he seemed… calmer then. More at peace. Becoming Emperor changed him, and not for the better."

"You make a fair point." She stood up, grabbing a poker and stoking the fire on the other side of the room before throwing another log on top. "But I remember him being restless. Like there was something about this place that just didn't satisfy him. Power doesn't corrupt, not necessarily. It just attracts the corruptible."

"What does that make you, then?"

She turned around to see Ciri wearing a good-natured smirk on her face. "Someone who wants what's best for the Isles. Though I'll not lie to you; it's gotten a lot harder to shrug off insults now that I can do more than just cross fists with someone."

"My grandmother struggled with the same thing." She chuckled. "When I first met Geralt I threatened to have him beheaded for talking back to me."

"Ha!"

"I don't regret the choice I made," she continued. "If I'd gone the other way we might have found ourselves on opposite ends of a battlefield."

"I wouldn't be so sure." Cerys strolled back over to the other side of the room, running her fingers along an empty tub that was pressed against the wall, near the fire. "My current focus is on improving life in the Isles, not sending more to their deaths against the Black Ones. With you in charge we might have even achieved an alliance."

Ciri laughed long and hard. "I forgot how optimistic you could be. It's nice."

"Oh really?" She planted her hands on her hips and stared her down.

"Let's just say I've lived a life of constant disappointment. But I'm finally happy with where I'm at."

"You'd make a better ruler than you think," she said, arriving back at the desk. "When Geralt found you and took you to Kaer Morhen, your friends joined forces to protect you. You reunited the Lodge of Sorceresses, most of whom hate each other like cats and dogs. You even got two opposing armies to unite against a common enemy, all for your sake. I can't think of anyone else who could make all that possible."

"I wasn't in control of any of that," Ciri rebutted. "Everybody made plans without considering what I wanted to do, all supposedly for my protection. How could I ever rule anything if nobody listens to me?"

Cerys shook her head and laughed. "Do you have any idea how many times a day my advisors second guess my decisions? When the Black Ones came, my Da took over the battle planning, all for my protection, of course. Being a leader means knowing when to make your own decisions and when to trust those who have more experience."

"Heh. I was never any good at that."

"Then it seems you made the right choice after all."

"Time will tell."

"Isn't that the truth?" She produced another bottle and began to pour. "Want some food?"

Ciri nodded. "Don't have to ask me twice."

"By the way," Ciri said two hens and a tankard of mead later, "what did you do with the remains of the Wild Hunt? I'm afraid the time right after the battle is a blur for me."

"Your friend the Sage saw to that," she revealed. "Took the Naglfar back to Mörhogg or wherever it is they came from."

"Tir Ná Lia," she said. "It's the capital city of their world. I spent some time there years ago."

"Oh really? How was it?"

"Terrible. I'd say it was the most awful experience of my life if it hadn't been my escape from an even worse one." A wistful expression overtook her face. "It was beautiful, though."

"What made it so horrible?"

"The Aen Elle elves are nothing like the Aen Seidhe, though they were once the same people. The only humans there were slaves taken by the Wild Hunt, and when I escaped I learned that the elves had taken that world by slaughtering all of its previous inhabitants. All except the unicorns."

"Unicorns? Like the ones that approach virgins?"

"Indeed. I met one in the Korath desert, and he later helped me escape Tir Ná Lia." She chuckled. "You know something funny? They called Eredin 'Sparrowhawk' when they warned me about him. A coincidence, I'm sure."

"Was there a reason they called him that?"

"All I know is that the Aen Elle had been at war with the unicorns since they invaded that world. Eredin tended to make… an impression on people. The one time I beat him in a swordfight was pure luck. There were no bridges for him to smack into all the other times."

"You mentioned they took slaves," said Cerys. "Is that what you were there?"

"More like a prisoner. The slaves all did menial labor, but they had something else in mind for me. If I had to put an exact name to it, I'd say I was a concubine."

She said it with disgust, which did not go unnoticed by Cerys. She frowned. "Who put you up to it? And why?"

Ciri took a swig of her drink. "Avallac'h. I'd gotten to their world by passing through Tor Zirael, the Tower of Swallows. His was the first face I saw. And it wasn't a friendly one. As to why…" She shifted in her chair, facing Cerys properly. " You know I'm descended from Lara Dorren, right?"

"Of course. I learned all about human and elven history growing up, and me Da filled in a few of the gaps."

"Avallac'h was set to marry her centuries ago, before she left him for a human. The Aen Elle saw that as unforgiveable and demanded I bear them a child to repay the debt. I'm sure you can guess how I reacted."

Cerys nodded. "I would've reacted by buryin' an axe in his face."

"All I did was run. But no matter how far I got, some enchantment kept drawing me back towards the same spot. Eventually he wore me down and I agreed to do as he asked. I was to bear the child of their king, Auberon Muircetach. The other elves put glamour on my face to minimize my scar and mixed magical aphrodisiacs into my perfume. But Auberon could hardly even touch me, much less fuck me."

"You sound almost disappointed."

She looked up and glared at Cerys, but soon relented. "To this day I'm not sure how I feel. Obviously I didn't want to bear the child of an elf I'd never met who was thousands of years older than me, but he made me feel as if no one would ever want me. He said looking at me was like finding a pearl in a pile of shit. Part of me wanted him to do it just out of spite, knowing it would bring him as much misery as it brought me."

Standing, Cerys walked around the desk and refilled Ciri's tankard. "I'm sorry that happened to you."

"In the end nothing came of it. Eredin gave the king a concoction that would allow him to finally get on with it, but it ended up poisoning him. That's when I fled. He chased after me ever since."

She hugged Ciri from behind. "Well, that's over now. You're free. But if you're bringing this up because you worry there might be strings attached…"

"I promise it has no bearing on why I'm hesitant to stay here. It's just that every time I start to feel mildly comfortable with my circumstances, the rug gets ripped out from underneath me and I find myself on the run again, with those I love either dead or too far away to reach."

Cerys laughed and released her, returning to the other side of the desk. "I promise you'll be safe here."

"How can you? Do you really think Eredin was the only one interested in me? There are things out there that nobody can protect me from."

"I don't need to. You're a grown woman now, and you can look after yourself. But you're the one who came and asked to stay on my island, and that means you're under my protection whether you want to be or not."

"I suppose you're right."

She smiled. "At the very least, I promise your time here won't be boring."

Ciri raised her glass. "I'll drink to that."