The innkeeper emptied the last bucket of warm water in the wooden tub, sighing with satisfaction. It had been quite a kerfuffle to bring all those buckets up without dropping their content, but here they were, with a nice warm bath, ready to welcome its guest. The whole was quite inviting, but the musician could have no idea of it, deprived of her sight as she was.

The innkeeper turned around, facing Geralt and the blind woman.

"Now you're all set! I'll leave you to it, and soon it'll be only the nice feeling of warmth and comfort against your skin. I hope you enjoy it!"

And with that she left them alone.

For a few moments, there was only silence. But then the musician heard the steps of the man around the room. Geralt, loyal to his promise, was making sure there was no hole by which to peep, no ladder under the window by which to climb and see. The curtain got drawn, the shutters shut. Then he blew the candles. Soon there was only darkness, but it didn't change much for both of them. Him because he could see in the dark, her because she couldn't see at all.

"I'll turn around, guard the door. You need anything, just say it. No one will see you."

When she heard only silence, she thanked him in a whisper. A few tentative steps in the dark, she lowered her hood, unveiling her long dark hair. Then, her delicate hands untied the piece of fabric blinding her. She blinked a few times before opening her strange eyes on a dark world. He had held his promise, no one could see a thing. She would have enjoyed, though, to finally open her eyes and see the light. See the world, objects, people. But it was not yet meant to be, apparently. Not before the end of her journey. She offered herself a pathetic smile. Not even a moonbeam would come greet her tonight.

She unfastened the ties of her robe, let it fall to the floor. Then the costume that now was her hiding, her dress, everything. She was naked. And there was this very strange feeling of being in the dark, stark naked, with a man she didn't know that morning, but who would not look at her – who could never look at her. Was it sadness? Certainly nostalgia. Yearning. Things from the past that were now dead, and would never come again. That man in this room – Geralt, he had said – was he handsome? What did he look like? His voice said he was not a very cheerful person. His actions said he was kind. And his touch made her long. But she most likely would never know what he was like, the softness of his features, or their harshness. She would never know. And yet here he was, his back to hers, in that small room. Fate was playful again.

Sighing, she climbed over the tub and let herself fall in the warm water. She couldn't help the happy moan from that delicious feeling. How long ago was her last bath? Her last moment of – well, not happiness, that couldn't be. But calm, peace…

She would have streched, had she been alone, and fearless. She would have streched all of her sore limbs – all of them. But the noise would have made him suspicious, and she didn't dare. Anything out of the way and he would be in danger of his life. She would be too. And her friends. The ones she carried with her, the ones waiting for her at home. Home. Did she still have a home? Of course not.

"How did you know Jaskier was a bard?"

His voice interrupted her train of thoughts. Maybe for the best.

"I'm sorry?

- You said to the children Jaskier was a bard. How did you know?"

It was strange how there was no passion in his voice, not even the curiosity of his question. But it took her a moment to remember.

"When he took my hand, I felt it on his fingers. The strumming of the strings causes calluses that are quite typical to the art.

- Hmm."

It was definitely not what he had expected. From a woman who could perform magic as she was playing, he would have credited some special power, a strong intuition maybe, but not something as trivial as the feeling of Jaskier's hands. He had underestimated the simple power of deduction. And truth be told, if Geralt of Rivia could feel a bit stupid, he would have, at that moment.

That moment when he was back to a woman. Naked. In a bath. Her hand had felt so cold in his, and yet so soft. Her lips looked luscious, her skin – what was he thinking? Was there no way he could ever control himself? She was crippled, blind, and quite unhappy. Definitely not in a state to feel any desire for anyone. Let alone a man she had just met. And didn't even know the kind of things he did. Or who he was. Would she react the same way everyone did, if she knew? Would she feel disgust? Could she see, would he see contempt in her eyes?

"May I ask a question myself?

- ... Yes.

- Why did you invite me to your table tonight?"

What could he say? Unsure, he went for the truth.

"I wanted to know wether you were dangerous."

She laughed. A gracious laugh.

"Why would I be? Were you worried I would be too big competition for your friend?"

He surprised himself by chuckling.

"I wasn't. He was. But magic makes me weary.

- I see... Does no one do that in this part of the world?"

Could he feel the slight worry piercing through her voice?

"Not this kind."

Silence fell in the room, quite heavy.

"It's... It's not really magic.

- What then?

- I can't tell you."

He frowned, but she couldn't see it. Every question brought more questions instead of answers. He started to feel annoyed. But could he blame her? Would he have divulged all of his secrets to a complete stranger? Especially one that was guarding the door while he was having a bath? Naked? Was it hotter in this room since a moment ago?

"You said your journey was long. Where are you going?"

Silence answered him. He worried she'd fallen asleep, which would have been dangerous, and would have made the whole promise a lot more complicated if he had to help her, but finally he heard her voice.

"I'm going North.

- Where to?

- Do you always ask so many questions to a woman you've just met?

- ... No. But I'm not usually guarding their door while they are bathing.

- What are you doing, then?

- I'm in the bath with them."

He could swear he felt her blushing, and that made him chuckle, until something wet came hit the back of his head. Shock. She laughed. She had thrown her sponge at him.

"How dare you talk such to a lady?"

He couldn't believe her audacity. But then, she was laughing. He was at a loss for words, but truth be told, the whole thing was indeed amusing.

"Are you a lady?"

She stopped laughing altogether, and he could swear he heard her gasp. Once again, silence fell heavy in the room.

"I'm clean now. I'm coming out"

There were a few splashes, the rustling of clothes, steps on the floor. She was behind him now. So close he could almost feel her breath on his nape. Strangely, his heart started beating a bit faster.

"I'm done. Thank you very much for your help. Should you want it, I did my best to keep the water clean."

Still faster heartbeat. There was something curiously sensual to the idea of bathing in the same water a naked lady had a few moments before. But he tried to focus.

"I have one last question.

- Yes?

- Why would it be so awful for me to see you?"

Silence. He pursued his lips in frustration. But then he felt her hot breath against his ear.

"If you did, she whispered, you would know. And then they would hunt you, torture you, and kill you. Because it's what they do. It's what they've done. It's what they've done to so many people already, and I'm not going to add your name on that list, Geralt."

He was not one to feel fear easily. And more than likely, it was not exactly fear he felt at that moment. But he definitely tensed.

"May I get out of the room?

- Hmm."

He was about to move out of her way, but first, he turned around, facing her. He took his time to study her. Her small frame. There was something strange about her crooked back, but he couldn't quite pin it. She had put on another robe, of dark color from what he could fathom, and she was carrying the dirty lavender one on her arm. That one, too, disrobed her almost completely to any eye. But the little he could see, her chin, her nose, her lips - her lips, slightly parted, why in the world did that make him want to kiss them? He moved out of her way.

"Thank you again, Geralt. I owe you for your help, and for the meal."

Her tone was more assertive than it had been earlier this evening. He was about to lift his hand to express the needlessness of her gratitude, when he remembered she couldn't see.

"No need to thank me.

- I'm not sure we'll meet again, but if we don't, may I wish you the best.

- ... Same to you. And I hope your journey will be unhindered."

She paused, as she was to open the door.

"May the gods hear you..."