Book 2: The Wolf Hunts

Chapter 6

Redania

Vernon Roche was a long way from home and - he thought to himself - a long time from home, as well. Though, truth be told, the commander of the Blue Stripes - the disbanded special forces unit of the Temerian military turned freedom fighters - wasn't even sure where his home was anymore. Both the government and military of Temeria no longer existed, and his homeland was caught between two titanic powers - Nilfgaard and Redania. He doubted there would be much left of the kingdom except for scraps after those two empires were done raping, pillaging, and – sometime in the future – using it as a bargaining piece in diplomatic negotiations. Still, despite the hopeless outlook, he fought on. The career soldier simply didn't know what else to do with his life.

Roche and his roughly two-dozen soldiers were all strategically placed either in or around the capital city of Tretogor. And they'd been there for over a year. Ever since the failed assassination attempt against Radovid the previous summer in Novigrad, the Redanian king had holed up in his palace and had not been seen out of it since. Roche didn't think it possible, but the man had become even more paranoid since then – rightly so, Roche could admit. That said, in the last year, the Temerian had managed to get two of Radovid's palace workers on his payroll as spies, but they were strictly of the type to gather intelligence. If Radovid was to eventually fall to an assassin's plot, then Roche would either have to find a way into the royal palace himself or somehow catch the monarch when he eventually left the safety his home.

The commander heard rustling coming from behind him and turned to see his second in command, Ves, crouched down and walking towards him in his camouflaged observation post. He knew it must be important for Ves to be there in person.

"What is it?" asked Roche

"A platoon of men – about twenty – just left the back gate of the palace. They headed west on that back road directly towards Kaedwen."

"Were they flying the king's banner?"

"No, but that doesn't mean anything. If Radovid is with them, he's too smart to advertise his presence."

Roche didn't say anything for a moment, assessing the situation.

"If he is with them, then what are they doing heading to Kaedwen? The war front is south," said Ves, interrupting his thoughts by stating the obvious.

Roche shook his head.

"It could be nothing, but…take three men and follow them…at a distance. Just observe them. Do not engage. Understand, Ves?" he commanded to his reckless lieutenant.

She smiled. "Right-o."

oOo

Central Kaedwen

"Renewal comes from the destroyer. Order from the wild. Of the same father, but not belonging. A lover of death, rebirth will come through him. Twisted yet straight, esteemed yet reviled, virgin yet marred. By his right hand, the world will be cleansed through the rod of Apophis."

Evie had just repeated the prophecy in the tome on her brother's request.

"Geralt, I've never asked you. What do you think about it?" asked Barcain in a whisper.

"It's nonsense," he replied, leaning forward and throwing a piece of deadwood on the small campfire, causing a few glowing embers to float upward into the night sky.

Several hours before, the group had made camp for the evening. Even though they were only a mile south of Ard Carraigh, the witcher had decided against looking for lodging in town. He was leery of venturing into the city unless there was an absolute need. What their excursion into Ban Ard had almost caused was still very fresh in his mind.

The orphans – most of them already asleep – were either in, under, or around one of the wagons on the other side of the campfire. In the back of the second wagon, Benny, Rien, and Gretel were sitting with Nikolai, who was in magical stasis from some of Benny's potent elixirs. Even though the mage's potions had worked perfectly the first two nights, everybody felt safer if either he or Rien stayed with him throughout the evening. Thus, that left the witcher, Evie, Lydial, and Barcain sitting by themselves, and eventually the former soldier brought up the prophecy regarding the rod of Apophis.

"Why do you think that? You don't believe in prophecies?"

Geralt shook his head. "Prophecies are only valuable in hindsight, for the historians." This produced a smirk and a playful nudge of the elbow from Evie. "I've got personal experience with them so I know that they don't all come true. And even with the ones that do, it's usually in some ridiculously alternate way that no one ever expected. So, this prophecy serves no practical purpose for me. It's not going to affect my decisions one bit. Think about it. This person that's going to wield the rod and restore order – whatever that means exactly – is apparently…a virgin? Well, that right there excludes us and just about everyone on the Continent over the age of twelve. That, or 'virgin' actually has a different meaning that what it normally means. Either way, how does that affect us or our ability to find this thing? I say, not at all."

Barcain nodded his head. "Yeah, why are prophecies always so vague, with multiple meanings?"

"Hell if I know. Ask the Professor," he said, tilting his head at Evie, who was snuggled next to him.

She smiled. "Well, I don't know either. It's not like I've ever made one. I just study them…and I find them fascinating."

"Maybe they are…but that still doesn't make them practical," retorted Geralt.

"But they could be," piped up Lydial.

"How so?" asked Geralt.

"What if Essea decided to speak through a prophet and gave him a prophetic word or vision about some future event. Let's say that he told him the specific day that you'd die and that, after you died, he was going to take you to live with him in heaven. I'd argue that that kind of knowledge would be very practical. It would or should completely change the way you'd live out the rest of your life."

"That'd depend," argued Geralt.

"On what?"

"Couple of things. Is the prophecy clear? Because they're only practical if they're clear. If you can't understand them, they're pointless. Also, they're only practical if you know that they'll come true, and that all depends on the origin of the prophecy. Can I trust the person who gave the prophecy? Is it just the ramblings from some mad man, or is it actually from God? Because if it's from an all-powerful, all-good God – from a God whose plans can't be thwarted and from a God who can't lie – then that prophecy is no longer a prophecy."

"What is it then?"

"A promise. An unbreakable guarantee. And that's something I can trust in. That's practical."

The conversation stopped when everyone saw Benny walking with his cane towards the campfire.

"How is he?" asked Lydial.

"Stable," answered the mage, sitting down next to the others.

"I've noticed Gretel has been spending a lot of time with him," remarked Evie.

"Yeah, she's been a great help. During the day, she coaxes water down him, moves his arms and legs about to keep his joints and muscles loose, wipes the sweat and dust from his face. She's really looking after him."

"Has anyone noticed that she seems a lot more comfortable around Nikolai and the kids than around us?" Evie asked.

Lydial nodded. "Well, she's not much older than they are. Probably has more in common with them."

"It's more than that," said Benny. "I think she prefers their company because…it's like a clean-slate with them…since they aren't aware of her past profession. I get the feeling she's embarrassed by it. Thinks we look down on her for it. And…I don't think she wants to go back to it. She was dropping obvious hints today about her desire not to leave us in Ard Carraigh. I think, maybe, she's found a purpose in our weird, little group – looking after Nikolai and the younger ones."

Evie looked up at Geralt. "Could she go with them?"

When he didn't immediately respond, she whispered, "Please, Geralt. This could be a new start for her."

He looked into Evie's pleading eyes for several moments, and then he eventually sighed.

"Damn it," he said, shaking his head. "I can just imagine what Vesemir would say." He sighed again. "Alright, why not? What's one more?"

"Great! I'll go tell her now," said Benny, getting to his feet.

Geralt felt Evie hug him tighter, and then, suddenly, she leaned up close to his ear.

"Come with me," she said as she grabbed his hand and started getting to her feet.

She took off at a fast walk, and once they were out of the campsite, she started running. Geralt stayed beside her, holding her hand the entire time. She laughed as they ran through a small orchard, the light of the full moon illuminating the way. Finally, she stopped in the middle of a group of fruit trees. In the moonlight, their white flowers shone like silver. She turned and peered into his eyes, a large smile on her face. She was breathing heavy and her heart was beating rapidly but not just from the run. As she continued looking into her witcher's face, her smile suddenly disappeared, replaced by a serious look. She lifted her right hand and, with her fingertips, traced his scar down his cheek. She then reached down and grasped both of his hands in hers.

"I love you, Geralt of Rivia," she said softly.

A look of confusion immediately came to the witcher's face.

"You what?" he asked, shaking his head. "But…why?"

"Because of your heart and your kindness…because you deserve it…because you love me."

He didn't say anything for a moment. He just stared into her beautiful, dark eyes. He finally nodded.

"I do. I do love you," he said, surprise clearly in his voice. And then a smile came to his face. "I love you, Evie," he declared again, that time with absolute conviction.

oOo

Vizima, Temeria

Malek and Fringilla stood together, fully dressed, in her bedchamber. She was wearing her normal attire – an elegant dress that showed off her remarkable figure and the unpretentious but clearly expensive jewelry adorning her ears, fingers, and neck. He, on the other hand, wore the clothes of a commoner and not his typical armor, which made sense given that he was planning to sneak across the Pontar River and into enemy territory.

"Do you have to leave right now?" she asked.

"I've got my orders from Emhyr, and Timataal and Delkith are finally fully healed from Philippa's attack…so it's time to go."

"Where are you headed?"

"Kaedwen."

"How do you know that they're there? Your spy network?"

Malek shook his head.

"No…that's actually been quiet for several days. It's just an educated guess. Kaedwen is the most logical place that they'd be."

The sorceress craned her neck to look up into his face while reaching out to grasp his hand.

"Let me come with you. You could use a sorceress."

Malek stood still and quiet for a long time, during which Fringilla said nothing else. Eventually, the soldier nodded.

"You are…useful."

The sorceress smiled. "Indeed I am. I knew that you'd see reason. Tell me the location, and I'll open a portal."

Malek shook his head. "No. My men and I need our horses and the gear that's on them. And I've never seen anyone able to coax a horse even near, much less through, a portal. Looks like you'll have to ride with us if you want to tag along," he finished with a small smirk.

"Ugh. How about this?" propositioned the witch. "You just tell me where to meet you, and I'll teleport there."

"Don't like riding horses?"

Fringilla simply shrugged. "I've simply never had to. Why bother when there's magic?"

"Makes sense," he said before telling her where he and his men were headed.

"Meet you there in two days?" she asked.

He nodded. "We should arrive within three days at the latest – if things go smoothly."

The sorceress then batted her eyelashes and said seductively, "I'll miss you. My bed will be so lonely without you."

After a pause, Malek smiled, reached down, cupped her butt with both hands, and pulled her upward. She let out a small gasp and then instinctively wrapped both her arms and legs around him.

"Yeah, I'll miss you, too, Fringilla," he responded before kissing her deeply.

The sorceress had a smile on her face as Malek said his goodbyes, but it disappeared the moment he turned and left the room.

She smoothed down her ruffled clothes, checked her make-up and hair in a nearby mirror on the wall, and then promptly opened a portal.

Ten minutes later, the magically-exhausted sorceress walked out of her fourth portal and into a large, garden-like courtyard of a lavish estate situated in the capital city of Nilfgaard. She knew that it'd be at least an hour before she could perform another spell. Teleporting halfway across the Continent always drained her magically. Her eyes immediately found those of a blond-haired man wearing the height of fashion. She began walking towards him, and he presented his hand as she approached. She placed her hand in his, at which point he bowed and kissed hers lightly just below the knuckles.

"Ravishing, as ever, Fringilla," said Donato Vigo, staring into the sorceress' eyes as he raised himself back to full height.

Fringilla's face remained stoic. "Thank you…cousin," she replied, as she took a seat. Next to the bench was a small table holding a tray of food and drinks. She thankfully reached for some cheese and wine.

Donato smiled. "I'm not sure why you always bring that up. Our kinship is quite distant. No one would frown upon us having a relationship."

"Except your wife, perhaps?"

His smile grew wider. "Yes, perhaps her." Then, his smile faded.

"So, how goes it with Malek?"

"It's progressing."

"Which means he still hasn't told you what he and Emhyr are searching for."

"No, but it's a matter of time. He's been disclosing more and more." Then, she informed her cousin that she'd been invited on the mission.

"Excellent. Just make sure – whatever it is – that Emhyr never lays hold of it. If all goes to plan, the White Flame will be snuffed out by the end of the summer, and a new era will begin. A new era for both of us."

Fringilla sighed deeply. Donato had contacted her months ago and had confided to her his knowledge of and his participation in a plot to unseat Emhyr. Initially, he'd only done it as a warning for his favorite cousin, to make sure she wasn't a part of any collateral damage from the coup. Eventually, over time, she began to inform Donato of any inner dealings of the royal court to which she became privy. For her part in thwarting Emhyr's plan and in aiding the usurpers, she'd been promised the throne of Toussaint, the duchy where her cousin, Anna Henrietta, had ruled up until her recent assassination. She had died without children, which complicated the line of succession, and almost a year later, the throne still sat empty.

"Since when did we become traitors, Donato?"

"We're not traitors, Gilla. We're patriots. Emhyr is running this great Empire into the ground. Every year that this pointless war continues, the infrastructure here at home weakens more and more. We don't have to conquer the world through war. It can be – and should be - done through commerce and trade. If all the resources, money, and man-power that were used on his war machine were directed toward technology and innovations…if we simply become the best and most efficient producers of goods on the Continent, we could rule the northern kingdoms without ever having to shed blood. Remember, the country with the strongest economy rules the world."

"Yes, yes, I've heard all this from you before," she retorted. "So, why does is still feel like treason?"

"Because you've been taught to respect the office regardless of who's in it, but what if the one holding office isn't worth respecting? Are we just supposed to sit back and watch him destroy this great nation? It's not treason, Gilla. It's a revolution…against a tyrant."

Fringilla sighed again. "I hope you're right, Donato."

oOo

Geralt was running frantically under the full moon, his eyes quickly scanning his surroundings and peering closely into the shadows cast by the large boulders. The night air was eerily quiet. All he could hear was his own rapid breathing and the sound of his boots crunching the hard soil. But he kept running…he had to find her, and the more he ran, the more that the fear overwhelmed him, making him run even faster. And, then, suddenly, he stopped. Up ahead, he saw a body on the ground. He took a tentative step forward and then another, until he was running again. He came to a halt a few feet from the body, lying face down on the rocky plain. He had to see if it was her, but he was also too afraid to find out. Finally, he took two more steps forward, bent down, and slowly rolled the body over. He saw Evie's face, with her eyes closed. It looked like she was sleeping. Suddenly, she opened her eyes to reveal empty eye-sockets, out of which crawled maggots and flies.

"Save me, Geralt!" Evie shouted.

As thick, black snakes emerged from the ground, he reached for his sword, but it turned to dust in his hand. The ground opened up, and Evie was dragged downward, all the while screaming, "Save me, Geralt, save me! Don't let me die."

"No!" he yelled.

oOo

The witcher rose up quickly with a gasp. Sweat was pouring from his body, and he was breathing fast.

"It's okay, Geralt. It was just a nightmare. It's over," said Evie as she reached out to hold him. He immediately pulled her into his arms. She could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

They were both sitting up on a blanket in the middle of the orchard. After their mutual declarations of love earlier, they'd decided that they wanted to spend some quality, intimate time alone – away from the others. Geralt had returned from the campsite with a blanket, and they had lain together on it, the full moon reflecting off of the nearby Maranatha River. They had spent hours just talking, kissing, and holding each other. Evie had eventually fallen asleep in his arms, and not long after, the witcher had, for the first time in a year, let himself do the same.

The witcher's breathing was slowing down, but he was still holding Evie tightly in his arms.

"I thought I'd lost you," he whispered in her ear.

"I'm right here," she whispered back. "I've got you…and you've got me."

"I don't want to let go," he said, kissing her lightly on the skin in front of her ear.

"You don't have to...ever. I don't want you to." She kissed him back.

"Ever?"

He could feel her slightly nodding her head against his. "Forever."

Geralt finally loosened his grip and pulled his head back so that they could look into each other's eyes.

"Marry me."

"What?" she half asked, half gasped.

"I want you to be my wife."

"Geralt! You can't be serious."

He nodded his head, staring into her eyes. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

"But, Geralt, we've known each other three weeks…Is this because you had some bad dream?"

The witcher shook his head. "No. It's because I love you…and because…let's be honest, we're going on a very dangerous mission. Hell, how many times have we almost died just since we met? So, I want every day that I have left – however many that may be – with you as my wife. So…Evie…will you marry me?" he asked, his heart thumping so loud he could feel it in his ears.

She didn't say anything, but the witcher could see tears welling up in her eyes. As he looked at her, he suddenly found it almost impossible to breathe, his breath catching in his throat. He tried to swallow, but he discovered that that once simple act had become difficult to do, as well. Finally, she nodded her head, and the tears ran down her cheeks.

"Is that a yes?" he asked, holding his breath.

"Yes, Geralt. It's a yes."

The air rushed from his lungs, and he immediately pulled her close. And, suddenly, a thousand thoughts and emotions were running through the witcher's mind. He felt like he'd just taken a leap off the tallest of mountains - a mix of total exhilaration and a thought of, "What did I just do?"

Then, he was quickly awash with feelings of gratitude and amazement.

"Unbelievable," he thought. "She actually wants to marry me…me."

But, through the swirl of emotions, what he eventually felt more than anything else was a strange yet comforting sense of overwhelming wholeness.

"She's going to be my wife. She loves me so much that she actually wants to be my wife."

And he just rested in that thought as he continued to hold her in his arms. Eventually, he pulled away from her just far enough so that he could look into her eyes. He shook his head slightly, still utterly amazed by not only his question but also her answer.

"Thank you, Evie."

But before she could respond, he slowly leaned in and brought her lips to his.

It was a long time later before they finally stopped kissing. Still sprawled out on the blanket and breathing heavily, Evie looked into her fiancé's eyes and said with a smile, "But I don't have a dress."

The witcher smiled back. "Oh, yes you do." And then he quickly got up from the blanket.

Five minutes later, Geralt was standing in front of Evie. He had one hand behind his back, and he'd just given her a torch to hold.

After lighting the torch for her, he said, "Hold it off to one side. I'd hate for your surprise to get burned."

He then revealed the dress to his betrothed.

"Oh, Geralt. It's gorgeous. Whose is it?"

The witcher had a confused look on his face. "What do you mean? It's yours."

"No. I mean, whose was it before?"

"No one's. Nobody's ever worn it."

"What? Then, why do you have it?"

He smiled. "Remember in Ban Ard when you spent several hours in the boutiques looking for the perfect clothes for Lydial and Barcain? Well, while you were off becoming best friends with every salesperson, I saw this. I thought that you'd look pretty in it so…I was going to surprise you with it." Then his smile widened. "Who knew that it'd be your wedding dress?"

Evie was shaking her head. "You're already the best husband ever," she said with a beaming smile.

oOo

"I give this to you as a sign of my commitment," declared the witcher. He had just lifted the chain of his wolf-head medallion over his head – making Evie gasp - and he was holding it in front of him, about to put it around her neck. As he was lifting his hands upward, she reached out with her own and stopped him.

"Geralt, you can't," she whispered.

He nodded. "I can…and I will."

"But, Geralt -"

"Evie," he interrupted. "This really isn't the time to argue about this…right?" He asked with a smile, nodding his head and shifting his eyes to his left at everyone gathered in front of them before looking back at her. It was a couple of hours before sunset, and Geralt and Evie – along with everyone but Nikolai - were standing in the same meadow where the witcher had proposed to the historian the night before.

That morning, after Evie had seen the meadow in the sunlight, she had decided that she wanted to get married there, for she thought that it was even more charming in the light of day. She had then, immediately, headed to the campsite and shared the joyful news with everyone there. After conferring with Lydial for a bit, she announced that the two of them needed to go into Ard Carraigh for the day. When Geralt said that he'd accompany them, Evie quickly informed him that that was out of the question. However, like any good couple, they'd eventually compromised, agreeing that Benny and Barcain would act as the ladies' escorts.

While they were gone, Geralt had headed to the river to bathe, shave, and clean his armor – perhaps better than he'd done so in years. Afterwards, he had walked up the gentle slope to the meadow which contained the small cluster of fruit trees. As he watched the cool breeze blowing through branches covered in white blossoms and a few butterflies gliding about, he knelt down, having decided to meditate and enjoy the solitude. But he just hadn't been able to slow his mind down no matter what he tried. Thoughts of Evie, his nightmare, Ciri, and Essea all blew through his mind like a whirlwind. Finally, he admitted that, at that point in time, meditation was a lost cause so he just decided that he'd give talking to God another go instead. He spoke about his hopes for him and Evie. He spoke about the nightmare from the previous evening and the fears he had about losing her. And he spoke about his sadness that Ciri wasn't around to see this happy day. Sadness that he'd never get to see her get married and start a family of her own, either. To his surprise, just as it had done the previous afternoon, though he'd received no answers from God, the act of praying had brought him much needed peace. And he still felt that peace as he stood in front of his bride.

Evie smiled back at her husband. "Right. We've got a honeymoon to begin."

Geralt, with a smile, then placed the chain over her neck, and his eyes drifted downward to see his wolf-head medallion coming to rest on the sapphire-blue, light cotton fabric of her wedding dress. He, once again, soaked in what she was wearing. Intricate embroidery was stitched along a modest, scooped neckline, but the dress just barely covered her shoulders, leaving her neck and collar bones completely exposed. The bodice clung very tightly, showing off her curves, but once the dress reached the hips, its material loosened slightly and flared downward towards her feet. The sleeves were made of a very light, gossamer fabric that fluttered in the breeze, and the final touch was a ribbon-like belt, dotted with tiny, fake pearls, that wrapped around her waist and tied in front, the long ends hanging down towards mid-thigh.

He lifted his eyes back up to hers and she could see the love within.

"Beautiful," he said.

oOo

Evie and Lydial's morning had been full of activities. First, a stop at the hairdressers for a professional styling and cut to fix the amateur job done in the Blue Mountains above Ban Ard. Then, after an early lunch, they visited several shops until Evie had finally found the wedding gifts that she wanted for her husband-to-be. As they headed out of town, she stopped and rented a room at a bed and breakfast located on the outskirts of the city, from which she could actually see the small orchard where she'd be marrying later in the day. There, she bathed, shaved, and rubbed some just-purchased, vanilla-scented lotion over her body to make it soft and pleasant for Geralt later that night.

It was in that same, rented room that Geralt and Evie stood just inches apart, less than an hour after their wedding. They stared into each other's eyes and had small, joyful, expectant smiles on their faces. She then slowly turned around, revealing the buttons on the back of the dress. He pressed his body into hers and then bent down to kiss her at the point where the neck and shoulder met. He slowly worked his way up towards her ear, and she shivered from the sensation. Eventually, the witcher got around to unbuttoning the dress and then slowly turned her body to face him again. He reached up his hands and gently pulled the dress off of Evie's shoulders. As he continued to pull the dress downward, she helped him by shifting her body from side to side until it finally fell from her bare breasts, slid past her hips, and pooled on the floor around her ankles.

She stood completely naked in front of Geralt but felt absolutely no shame. He was her husband, and she was completely his. She saw his eyes slowly roaming over her entire body. She could see the deep desire within, and it thrilled her. Just watching him looking at her was making her body respond. Seeing her in that state caused Geralt to start undressing quickly. With her help, he was soon naked, as well. She looked down, and a big smile spread across her face. She reached forward and caressed him.

"Looks like you don't need any of Benny's magic potions."

"No, but I should've brought a vial…just in case you wear me out."

"Plan on it."

While kissing and touching one another, they moved over to the bed where Geralt lay Evie down. He was planning on taking his time and gladly giving her all the foreplay that she wanted, but she made it clear that she didn't want any of that.

"I want you…right now," she got out between heavy breathing.

Geralt didn't need to be told twice so, moments later, the husband and wife became one and as close to perfectly intimate as it was possible for two flawed humans to be.

The first time, neither had lasted incredibly long. It had been over a year since the witcher had last had sex and even longer than that for Evie. But neither minded. They held each other tightly afterward. They made the silly jokes that only two lovers ever find amusing. They fondly recalled their days together in the mountains above Tarsus and how they'd first started falling in love with each other then. They simply cuddled together in bed and enjoyed continuing to connect emotionally and spiritually. It was a connection that had been present well before they'd ever had sex, and it had only deepened because of it.

"Do you regret waiting?" the witcher asked his wife. "We could have been doing this for the last couple of weeks."

"Not at all," she answered. "I'm so glad we did. This feels…right. I can't even imagine it being more perfect."

Geralt nodded his head and then gave a small laugh. "Yeah, maybe God knows what he's talking about after all. Guess I should keep listening to him."

"Oh…that reminds me!" she said as she quickly got out of bed.

"Not that I mind the view, but where are you going, wife?"

Suddenly, Evie stopped and turned around with a smile. "Say that again."

The witcher smiled back. "Come back to bed, my beautiful, kind, intelligent, sexy, honorable wife."

"Okay. Just a second…husband."

She grabbed something out of a bag by the dresser and returned to bed, holding it behind her back. Geralt sat up and leaned back against the headboard. Evie hopped into bed and straddled her husband.

"Close your eyes."

He obeyed, and then seconds later she said that he could look. He opened his eyes to see what appeared to be a book, though there was no title on the front or the spine. Whatever it was, it looked costly given its expensive, leather-bound cover. He untied the simple bow that was keeping it closed and then opened it in the middle. As he flipped through it, he furrowed his brow on seeing nothing but blank pages.

"Uh…Evie…what is this?"

"My wedding gift to you."

"An empty book?"

"For now."

"What am I supposed to do with it?"

"Well, after I translate the Essean tome into Common for you, you're supposed to read it."

The witcher's face had a look of bewilderment on it.

"How did…how did you know that's what I wanted?"

Evie smiled at her lover. "Because I know you."

He shook his head in amazement. "And you love me anyway."

Evie nodded. "With everything I have."

He placed the book on the bedside table and then swiftly and effortlessly flipped Evie onto her back. She could see the passion on his face.

Looking down into her eyes, he said, "That's the best gift you could have ever given me. Now…let me show you how grateful I am."

Evie wasn't sure if the "gift" he was referring to was the book or her love, but at that point, she didn't really care.

oOo

Geralt felt incredibly rested. For the first time in over a year, his sleep the previous evening had been free from any nightmares. Evie, however, couldn't stop yawning. While a couple of hours of sleep or meditation may have been sufficient for a witcher, it wasn't enough for her. Not that she was complaining. She knew that she and her husband – along with the rest of their gang – would continue with their journey this morning. Therefore, it could, potentially, be a while before the newlyweds could have a repeat performance of the night before. They were both dressed and packed and heading for the door of their room when Evie halted her witcher.

"Geralt, wait."

"What is it?"

Evie walked up to him and kissed him before saying, "This is our first morning as husband and wife. The first of many, I hope. To commemorate it, I got you something."

With that, she presented her hand, palm up. On it, rested a brand-new pipe. He looked into her eyes and smiled warmly.

"Thank you," he stated before taking it from her.

"The style is called a 'Diplomat,''' she informed him. "Which I thought was appropriate for you."

"Are you busting my chops?"

"No. I'm serious. The rest of the world may find it ironic since they view you as a mindless killer, but I know you. I know that you'd rather complete a contract through talking and curse-breaking than by slaughter. So…I thought it was the perfect pipe for you," she finished, smiling.

The witcher then inspected his new gift. This was no corncob or cheap clay pipe. In fact, it was the prettiest pipe he'd ever seen. The bowl and shank were dark brown and carried a smooth finish. It looked like a traditional "apple-style" pipe except its stem was slightly curved instead of straight. Then, looking closer, Geralt saw tiny markings etched into the sides of the pipe – on the bowl, shank, and stem. He pulled it closer to his face, his eyes growing wide at what he saw.

"What the hell?" he said to himself. "Evie, are these runes?"

She nodded. "They are. The salesman said they'd make for 'an overall superior smoking experience.'" She said the last with a snooty, aristocratic accent. "Let's see…they're supposed to keep the bowl cool but the chamber hot. Remove excess moisture. He also said that the runes make the material both stronger and heat resistance. He said it'd be next to impossible for the bowl to crack or the stem to break."

Looking closely at the runes, Geralt then noticed another etching on the bottom of the bowl. At first, he thought it was another rune, but then, he saw that it was a carving of a tiny butterfly. When he realized what it was, he looked up at Evie.

"Evie, this pipe was crafted by Le Papillon," he stated incredulously.

She nodded. "Yeah, that's what the shop keeper said."

"Evie, you don't understand. He's one of the best. Do you know how much his pipes cost?"

She laughed. "Yes, Geralt. I am quite aware of what it cost."

The witcher was shaking his head. "Evie…it's too much. I don't…I don't deserve this."

She suddenly got a serious look on her face. "Yes, you do, Geralt. Yes, you do. Nothing is too good for you. Do you hear me?"

Geralt didn't say anything. He just looked into his wife's beautiful, kind, and fierce face, and he felt something catch in his throat. He didn't know what he'd done to deserve her, to deserve her love. And he realized, then, that she wasn't just his wife. She was his best friend and his biggest fan. He'd never had anyone support and encourage him as much as she did, and he was completely amazed by it all. Eventually, he nodded his head slightly at her.

"Okay," he said, finally.

She smiled warmly at him before pulling him into a hug.

"Tonight, we can sit under the stars, and you can smoke your pipe and recite your poetry to me. No! Even better – you can write a poem for me. About our love." As she broke the hug, he could clearly see the mirth on her face.

"Whatever you want, my wife. Whatever you want."