This chapter is dedicated to Jan's cat.
Rain pittered miserably over rock and cold, bare soil. The wind carried the snores of a dozen soldiers, tucked away in the cold rock of a mountain's many caves. There was a tenseness in the air, the sense of something listening.
Among the sleeping soldiers, Kornelia was the last one awake. The great and handsome prince was a few feet away, smiling in his sleep. He seemed so innocent. He said he loved her. Was she really going to do this again?
A fire flickered at her feet.
It was too small to make any comforting noise, just large enough to offer a home for the note in Kornelia's hands. She didn't know what that would mean. She wanted to know what it all meant.
Had she been wrong about her mother? Maybe… maybe there had been a reason. Of course there'd been a reason! Mother had used Kornelia's magic for great things. And really, Kornelia had admitted she wasn't going to use it. It didn't mean that Mother didn't love her.
And therefore, she was maybe, possibly, potentially wrong about Lionel.
Maybe he loved her.
Maybe she could have a home with him and be happy… be a queen.
Queen Nellie Nobody.
Kornelia knelt down and closed her eyes, letting the heat soak her face. It helped. It made her feel like her outside matched her insides. It turned the world into a glow instead of a big dark empty nothing.
Kornelia raised the note to her face and tapped it against her nose.
Yennifer had been gone for so, so long.
Kornelia's eyes shot open and blinked rapidly, chasing away a sudden onslaught of tears. Not here, not here: if she started sobbing she would have to explain. She would have to face Lionel. She would have to decide what she wanted.
'My friend,'
The letter would tell her, surely the letter would tell her-if she'd made the right decision before then she could flee now and feel nothing.
'I do not know how to advise you but I hope to give you a better idea of what your life has been.'
The paper was a little faded after two or three years and Kornelia's fingers instinctively stroked the creases in the paper as she read. The first line's doubt was a strange comfort.
'Tissaia has many ways to get power. That you can walk the tower in your own skin must mean something. That your time is not your own must also mean something-since I've met you you seem to have lost at least half a decade.'
Kornelia let out a long sigh as she finished the letter and then she was digging through her bag for paper and chalk. Her own handwriting was nothing as neat as Yennefer's and her message quite a bit more apologetic as she laid it beside the sleeping prince's head.
'I want you to be safe. If you run, I am afraid that you will be snatched back to the tower to spend the rest of your life as some mindless creature with Tissaia thinking of you as an inconvenience. But I also think that you have more power than you realize.'
Kornelia paused at the mouth of the cave, turning back to see the men she'd thought could be her friends. The man who'd told her she was beautiful. The second life she was walking out on. She pulled out a knife.
'Become strong, Nellie. Find your power and embrace it.'
Kornelia knew it was a waste of time but she couldn't help it. She raised the knife to her hair and hacked it to chin length once again. She tossed it bit by bit to the ground and then held out a hand to let the rain wash a few lingering tendrils off her hand.
'Then go find the life you want.'
Kornelia raised her other hand and a moment later she was gone, her portal disappearing a moment after..
'I hope in that life we will be friends again.'
The night settled back into stillness.
...
Boisterous laughter mingled with drunken arguments, wooden cups slamming down with a slosh of ale, and the jingle of coins tossed to a minstrel as he enjoyed a drink himself. A bloody set of fingers added to the noise, thrumming on the table before their mistress and adding a rhythm to what seemed to be the loudest room she'd ever been in.
Kornelia moved her hand to brush the bowl of stew set before her, turning the bowl and studying the various bits of unrecognizable brownish-green and brownish-orange and greyish-brown. She'd had a taste and found she liked it. She simply had no appetite.
She knew, she just knew that she had slipped up yesterday.
But for the life of her she couldn't figure out how.
A snarling set of jaws flickered through her memory, pain in her side, her knife knocked aside, her vision turning to white as she raised a hand to defend herself.
Magic had come, a spark at her fingertips, an explosion.
Safety.
And then, for the first time in a year, a feeling of guilt and a memory of her mother. And soon after, a memory of a prince and his kiss and a safe embrace. Though if she were honest, he was in her thoughts even when she wasn't recovering from a fuzzy near death experience.
Kornelia tapped the bowl and found it was colder than she expected. With a sigh. she began spooning the lukewarm meal into her mouth before things could get any worse. She needed a night in a good bed, that was all. One night of rest and a wall between her and the world and she would remember that her mother didn't even like her.
"Did you know you've got blood on your hands?"
She squinted up to find the minstrel, his clothes much fancier up close then she'd first thought. He looked very pleased with himself. She found herself wondering just how much dirt she had on her face. At least it wouldn't show on her simple clothes-though now that she'd thought about them she could feel her ears burning self-consciously.
"I didn't see you come in. Did you have a chance to catch my lovely performance?"
Kornelia bit her lip, weighing her words, considering the danger. "The end of it."
He leaned forward, rising from his seat slightly. "And? What did you think? Too dramatic? Too heartwrenching? Was I on key?"
She took another spoonful of soup and a glance around. No one seemed to be watching. No one seemed to think it funny that this man was talking to her. No one seemed willing to swoop in and rescue her either.
"I'm sorry." She managed. "I don't know anything about music."
She looked down at her bloody hand, assuming he would take this as an excuse to leave. Kornelia pulled out her bag of herbs and fished out a bandage scrap and a canteen to wet it. By the time she had began wiping her hand clean, she'd forgotten he'd ever been there and when he spoke again, she jumped.
"I'm Jaskier."
He stared at her expectantly.
"Um… Coriander." She crumpled the bloody rag and slipped it into a pocket. Her clothes were covered with blood anyway.
"A beautiful name. Suits you well."
She just raised an eyebrow and went back to eating.
He made a few more quips and jokes and managed two smiles from her tired face and then followed a call from the bar for another song.
She couldn't remember what his name was.
Kornelia pulled out her sketches and began flipping through, trying to decide where she might want to go next, what places may have changed enough to be worth seeing again. She would need to earn some real money soon-she'd need a new sketchbook or at least some paper before she went anywhere new. And maybe a new pack, something waterproofed.
She heard her new friend begin a song. Something from Skellige. She liked Skellige. Kornelia's hands slowed as she began to concentrate on the words instead. The bard was telling an old story, some old tragedy and hero, but the refrain was new and was sparking the same part of her mind as a cliff or a forest or a sunset or a tower by the ocean. If only she had a paper to draw the shipwreck he was describing and the seaweed and monsters around it and…
Her hands flipped a paper over and found that its back was blank.
Kornelia studied it, confused. She would have sworn that she'd checked every page, filled every inch of space. The other side was a drawing she recognized but couldn't quite place-two birds in a nest and some scribbled herbs and a note about what they would do.
She hesitated for a long minute, letting the song wash over her and flipping the paper from one side to the other as she mulled over nothing in particular.
Then she took one last bite of stew and pulled out her chalks.
Kornelia let the world fade away, assisted by the bard's voice, only returning to nod and pay for refills of her drinks. Soon, the old Kornelia was back, covered in chalk from her nose to her cheeks, to her bandages. A lock of hair was even about to slip out of the small bun at the nape of her neck. She felt almost at home, the knot in her stomach almost gone.
Then she gradually realized that the music had faded and looked up to find that the man had returned and was paying for her next drink as well as his own.
"How much for a portrait?" He asked when she looked up.
"I've never drawn a human face in my life." Kornelia shot back. This was almost true. A few failed sketches of Lionel, Yenn, and her mother were among ashes somewhere out in the wilderness. "And I don't… I don't know…"
"What about an advertisement? Could I hunt you down later to create a poster for a concert? Or a play! Oh, that would be-"
Kornelia had been flipping through papers and now held up one on which she'd written a few notes.
The bard squinted. "What does that say?"
"Exactly." Kornelia said.
He spent maybe a quarter of a second, possibly half a second, considering this.
"Oh but think about it, Cori!" He raised his mug in emphasis and she wished she'd picked a name less similar to her real one. "I sing the songs and you draw and sell pictures for them to remember me. Look at this place. Who wouldn't like a bit of art to liven up this dull town. I have too much to do actu-"
The door to the bar slammed open.
Kornelia jumped in surprise, then curled her arm against her side as the movement pulled her injury. The bard, to his credit, looked concerned but she shook her head at him. He followed her gaze to the group of soldiers that had now filled the entrance, barring anyone from leaving the building.
Kornelia, despite herself, glanced at the nearest window and wondered if they'd thought to put a man outside to watch it. But that didn't matter-she hadn't done anything wrong. She felt like she'd done something stupid, sure. But Kornelia deVries wasn't a criminal.
"We're looking for a rogue sorceress."
Well, sh**.
"She is a woman of great beauty. Raven hair and purple eyes." Wait. "She has been traced here and any information that leads to her capture will be rewarded handsomely." Here the soldier held out a poster and showed a very large number. Muttering began to fill the room.
Kornelia was off her feet in an instant, charging toward the man with her mouth already forming her question. She made it about a foot before she was tugged back. She looked down to find the bard's hand snagged on her skirt.
"What are you doing?" He hissed.
"Asking a question."
"Oh, well, of course." He did not let go. She could feel eyes on her. And then they left when they saw her face. The soldiers were already leaving.
"Wait!"
One of them glanced over at her, scowled, and then walked out.
Kornelia's jaw dropped.
Meanwhile, the bard seemed to have noticed her injury and a moment later she was sitting beside him with her bowl of cold stew in front of her.
"They left." She complained.
"And that's a good thing." The bard nudged the bowl closer. "Better they not care then that they notice you."
After he spent all that time trying to get her to sell her art? Kornelia picked up the bowl and drained the rest too quickly to taste it.
"Says that man who-" She couldn't find a way to put her accusation into words and after a moment decided it was better that way. She stood and began gathering her things.
"Where are you going?" He was giving her puppy dog eyes. Kornelia ignored him. "Cori?"
"I have to go make some money." She finished packing by checking that Yennefer's letter was safely tucked into the pocket she'd sewn for it. "Don't worry: I can manage it on my own."
"You're all on your own?"
Damn it.
Dammit dammit dammit dammit.
"Yes. And I've managed quite well so far." She gave him a dismissive wave and began to walk off. Another lock of hair fell into her face.
"Look, look, look." He fell in step beside her. "We can do so much better together. And you're obviously new the city-I can-"
"I don't even know your name."
That stopped him for a moment. She actually stopped too, unable to look away from him as he dramatically threw himself against the bar and gave her a wounded look.
"It's Jaskier."
"Great. I'll see you later, Mr. Jaskier."
She strode out of the bar quickly, ducking around a corner just in case he followed again. There were a few bushes and she tucked herself among them, considering what to do. If she used magic in the area, they were sure to track it. That meant she couldn't go straight to Yenn. Probably. She thought. It had been a long time since she'd eavesdropped on any magic lesson, much less one of tracking magic.
So she should leave the city and find a spot no one would be looking at, away from the paths this time, and she could leave from there. And then she could help Yenn with whatever mess she'd wound up in.
Kornelia nodded decisively and slipped out of her hiding place, thrilled with her plan and soon on the road out of the city to enact it. For once, her face was set in a smile, her own pain and worries forgotten.
She could be a friend to Yennefer at last.