In Dreams
By Pyreite
Chapter 12: Between Worlds
Ciri awoke in a strange and unfamiliar bed inside a chamber she'd never seen before. It was built of mortared stone, the bricks in the walls uneven. Each a different shape and size, yet the walls were tall and flat. The vaulted roof fashioned from thick wooden boards. Sunlight tinged red, green and gold fell across the floor in splashes of colour.
She sat up, frowning at the mattress's softness.
Even the blankets and sheets were silky, the kind slept in by royalty. A luxury she'd known in Cintra. Yet here she sat in a bed covered in brocade blankets. The material embroidered in silver-grey on a field of black. The symbol of an open unblinking eye with lashes like rays of sunlight.
Ciri frowned, certain she'd never seen it before.
"It's the sigil of the Inquisition".
She startled – badly – twisting in bed out of habit. She reached over her right shoulder for the hilt of the sword across her back. She flinched when her fingers closed on air, realising that she was vulnerable. She rolled to the left, falling out of bed onto the floor with a thump. The ungraceful landing earning her two bruised knees and a sore hip.
"Such foul language from a lady. You swear like a swarthy Antivan sailor".
Ciri tore the blanket from her head, ashen-hair mushed. Her cheeks ruddy. She glowered at her unexpected guest, spying a slender reed of a man in fine clothes. He'd taken a seat on the bed, nonchalant as he patted the rumpled sheets. He arched a black eyebrow, grey eyes twinkling when she snapped at him.
"Who are you? Where am I and how in the world did I get here?"
"I'd love to chat, but I'm afraid that neither you nor I have the time".
"What do you mean?"
He lifted a tanned hand from the mattress, raising a single elegant finger. He paused long enough to make Ciri suspicious. Then as if on cue, there was an explosion of sound. Ciri clamped her hands over her ears, trying to muffle the roars of an enraged draconid. Her drums ached when it stopped, though the reprieve was brief.
There was another roar and another, coupled with screams of frustration.
It went on and on until it ceased as if by magic.
The man on the bed, frowned and shook his head. The shoulder-length short black waves of his hair lashing the collar of his jacket. The tips of his manicured moustache drooped like the ears of an unhappy dog. He gazed at Ciri as if she were an answer to his prayers. That look so full of hope that her skin prickled with unease.
"I wish that I could help her, but my time has come and gone upon this earth. I exist only in her memories, a spirit unable to rest. She loved me like a brother, considered me family. But I can't assuage the depth of her grief. You must intervene before she succeeds".
"Succeeds at what?" asked Ciri with trepidation.
"Destroying herself. She's in the courtyard trying to slay the dragon that's kept her whole. Without the beast she'll die for certain. With it she'd have a chance to live and redeem herself. But she's stubborn, angry, upset and afraid. She longs for death if only to return to the family she loved and lost. Instead of looking to the family she already has".
"Me?"
"Yes, darling. Save Ellana from herself, I beg you. You're all she has left in this world that ties her to the light. Without you she'll fall into the darkness of her own despair. The demons almost claimed her the first time after Fen'Harel restored her memories. They will claim her for certain if the dragon dies by her hand".
Ciri looked into his eyes, seeing herself reflected there. "Who are you?"
"My name is Dorian. Ellana is like a sister to me. Take her home".
"I'll try".
He smiled in relief, sniffling as the tears slipped down his cheeks. "Thank you".
Ciri wondered how an elf could love a human. The man sitting on the bed wasn't an elf, but a nobleman she guessed from his fine clothes. He wore velvet, satin, sable and leather in muted greys and browns. His robes neither showy nor elaborate, but far finer in quality than the clothes of an ordinary man. His face was unblemished, his skin as clean as the black hair falling in soft waves around his collar.
He was far healthier and better dressed than anyone she'd seen from the slums.
His moustache was trimmed, the goatee upon his chin a tidy triangle. Even the grey eyes beneath his furrowed brows were dark and full of worry. There was love in the way he'd spoken about Ellana. Concern in the way he peered at Ciri, hoping that she'd help him. It was a peculiar thing for Ciri to realise that the elf she'd seen in Avallac'h's bedroom was unlike any elf she'd ever known.
She wanted to ask Dorian more questions, to press for details. Yet that hopeful look in his eyes made her wary. She would've refused if not for that familiar feeling in the pit of her gut. Lodged there like a stone, it pulled at her as if she were tethered. The leash a mark of the bond she shared with a stranger she'd never known.
"Do you know if she's special like me?"
"You know the answer to that question, dove", replied Dorian. "I'm but the memory of a friend that Ellana lost in a war she couldn't prevent. What happened wasn't her fault, though she blames herself. Fen'Harel took her memories to spare her the pain. He but delayed the inevitable. Ellana sacrificed all that had meaning to her, now she wallows in the mire of her grief".
It was then that Ciri understood what he meant. "She wants to die".
"In hopes that she'd return to those she loved. Yes".
She paled, biting her lip. "What if I don't have the right to stop her? If this is what she wants. Who am I to tell her otherwise? We don't know each other at all".
"You have the only right", corrected Dorian. "You're hers by blood. Her family".
"Will that be enough?"
"Remind her of her duty to her clan – to you. Ellana will hate it, but she'll understand".
"All right".
Ciri trembled, still feeling unsure of herself. His conviction surprised her as much as his certainty. She threw off the rumpled sheets and blankets, rising to her feet. Ciri was relieved to find herself clothed rather than naked. The leather, linen and velvet she usually wore still upon her person as if she'd fallen asleep. She smoothed down her shirt, a touch self-conscious in front of Dorian.
He smiled, shaking his head and gestured to the far side of the room.
There amidst the stone walls, wooden floor and plush carpet was a staircase. Ciri darted away like a hare, the heels of her boots clicking. She reached the stairs, galloping down them like a skittish horse. She reached the door to the sound of Dorian's laughter, red-faced and fuming. This Ellana had some handsome if annoying friends.
"Arse", she cursed while turning the latch. "Why did he have to be so pretty?"
An iron key was in the lock, Ciri turned it with a click. She pushed the door open, hearing it creak on its hinges. It swung wide, revealing a courtyard surrounded by ruins. She was reminded of Kaer Morhen, its stone walls full of holes. The mortar grey and crumbling, the bricks speckled with lichen.
Grass grew in sparse swards between the cobbles, long stems brown and desiccated.
The scent of heat and brimstone heavy on the air. The sun shone overhead, a disc of brightness in the sky. White clouds floated on a sea of blue. It was like Kaer Morhen in autumn though Ciri saw not a single leaf on the ground. There were puddles amidst scorched cobbles that steamed as shards of ice melted in the sun.
"Ice magic against flame", said Ciri. "Yet not a single drop of blood spilt on either side".
She saw further evidence of a struggle. More cobbles blackened by soot, some cracked in half whilst others glowed like hot coals. Tiny tongues of blue-flame wavering in the air. Ciri chose a safer path, placing her feet on solid if gouged stone. The cobbles bore the four-toed slashes from something large with scythe-like talons.
"Dragon fire burns hotter than ordinary fire", she recited aloud. "A single spark can ignite a man in a heartbeat".
Ciri was glad Vesemir had once shoved a text about dragons under her nose. At ten she'd thought it a fool's errand to read about dragons. Now she was glad of his insistence that she learn about all manners of beasts – magical and mundane. That knowledge had saved her life on a multitude of occasions, although she wondered how useful it'd be here. Yet she cleaved to what she knew, creeping across the courtyard like a shadow.
She hated the lack of reassuring weight across her back. The sword and scabbard she'd always carried absent. Even the dagger at her hip was gone, along with its sheath. She still had her belt, even her purse full of coin. Yet she carried not a single blade, armed only with a witcher's nerve, wit and cunning.
Poor weapons against a flying fire-breathing foe.
"Unarmed in the middle of nowhere with a dragon on the loose. Geralt would be horrified".
She stilled, skin crawling with apprehension. There was a lack of birdsong, the rustle of leaves in the wind. It was cool, the air crisp but lacking that wintry chill. The trees were few, yet each was tall with broad branches. Ciri saw foliage in shades of autumnal gold, red and orange.
It was too quiet.
She'd expected to hear more roaring with that unmistakable reptilian rattle. Even the snake-like hiss that often followed the flick of a forked tongue. She sniffed, nose wrinkling at the smell of sulphur – the stink like rotten eggs. She knew there was a large lizard-like creature about, yet she'd neither seen nor heard it. She paused, glancing back at the way she'd come.
There on the far side of the courtyard was the tower that'd led her outside.
It was framed by an archway of stone. The door itself tall, wide and a plain oak-brown. The wooden planks bound together by bands of black iron. It was a simple door that'd led into the unknown, though she'd yet to find Ellana or her dragon. Ciri gritted her teeth, certain that Dorian had put her in a dangerous situation.
A witcher-girl in the middle of a tug of war between a dragon and her elven counterpart.
"Wonderful", she muttered, rolling her eyes. "So this is what it feels like to save an idiot that's gotten themselves into trouble with a monster. I'll never complain about witcher-work again. Granted that idiot is somehow my aunt several hundred times removed. And she's a draconic half-breed".
Ciri wondered if Ellana was the offspring of a golden dragon that'd mated with an elf.
"Geralt did say that Villentretenmerth had a hatchling. A little green dragonling. But neither Ellana nor her wolf looked anything like the Aen Seidhe or the Aen Elle. She's far prettier than Avallac'h. That can't be right".
She crept across the courtyard, digesting that thought. Ciri paused at the grassy edge, a second staircase winding its way down a steep slope. The second courtyard was a valley of green encircled by a wall of stone. It was whole if crusted with lichen. The mortar between its bricks still white instead of grey.
At the courtyard's centre, lying on a hill of singed grass was a gargantuan winged-lizard.
A silver dragon with goat-like horns. Membranous wings were furled against its back. Long ridges of bone ran the scaly length of its spine to the long whip of its tail. It breathed, flanks expanding and contracting. There it stayed, a slitted eye the size of a carthorse focused on a hunched figure.
Ciri saw the pointed tips of her ears peeking through the silver curls of her hair. It was Ellana, making sounds of pain. Frowning, Ciri knelt on the landing trying to see over the elf's back. She was horrified when Ellana's wrist dropped to her waist. Blood dribbled down her fingers, pooling in the palm of her hand.
It splattered the step she sat on, staining the stone red.
"What're you doing?"
Ciri rushed down the stairs, forgetting about the dragon. She leapt the last two, landing with a thump. A nimble turn on the balls of her feet. A thrust of her hand. She knocked the blade aside, gasping when it singed the tips of her fingers.
It fell onto the wet stone, setting the droplets of Ellana's blood alight.
Tongues of emerald flame flickered, fanned by the breeze. She sucked in a breath when Ellana glanced her way. Her face was wan and haggard as if she'd endured a period of suffering. Her eyes dark and dull as a tarnished blade. There was little light and even less fire.
She was broken in ways Ciri doubted she could mend.
"Leave me be", she said in a hollow voice. "I want the pain to end".
"I can't let you do that".
Ellana's breath hitched. Her mouth quivering like a plucked lute string. She stared at Ciri till the tears rolled down her cheeks. Her shoulders slumping with a tiredness that bent her back as if she'd toiled for years. Ciri read her past in the scars across the back of her trembling hands.
Even her fair elven face was slashed and pitted.
Two scars ran from the right and left side of her face. One slicing through her brow, the lid of her right eye and down into the meat of her cheek. The second cutting from the bottom of her left ear to her chin. Each deep, neat and a straight line likely from a blade. Each strike a glancing blow that'd left an indelible mark on her person.
"Why?"
"I need your help", replied Ciri. "You're the only person in this entire world that's like me. I'm tired of being alone and afraid of what I am. Geralt said that you could control the power of the Elder Blood. Would you teach me?"
"That damned witcher. Asking what he had no right too. Now he's put the fool idea into your head. Do you want to know why I refused him?"
"Because I'm human".
"What?"
Ciri bit her lip, thinking the worst. "It's true. The Aen Elle hate me because I'm not an elf. I have all of Lara Dorren's magic but not her pointed ears. Why would you be any different?"
She glared when Ellana's eyes narrowed. Her silver brows furrowing the instant Ciri lifted her chin. Defiant. She looked down her nose at the she-elf, pride in her bearing. She hadn't forgotten that Ellana had stolen her mentor turning him from a man into a wanton harlot. She remembered his moans, groans and whimpers in the night.
"Well?"
"You know not what you ask, little bird".
"He called me that".
"Fen'Harel", replied Ellana, naming the bane of her existence. "Zireael - the swallow that he caught and let go. He has never given up on me. Curse him. Now he suffers in a prison of my making, tormented by my demons of despair".
"He loves you".
"Deeply. It's my fault that he's there".
Ciri proffered her gloved hand. Palm open and fingers splayed. "Let's save him. Together. I can show you the way".
Ellana peered at her from under her silver lashes. "You would do that?"
"I know what it's like to be alone. To be afraid. I've lost everything and everyone I've loved too. I've been hunted by people who wanted to use me for my bloodline, my birthright and my nobility. They never cared about me or what I wanted. They only cared about what I could give them".
"Who was the first that tried to use you?"
"The man who sired me is the emperor of Nilfgaard. He wanted to marry me to beget a child to ensure the future of his throne".
Ellana's bloodied fingers curled fists. The small round black pupils of her eyes elongated. The green of her irises splitting in half. Ciri was reminded of Geralt when an ivory fang glinted at the corner of her mouth. She continued, hoping to stir the elf's broken spirit into a conflagration.
Anger was better than despair.
"There was to be an arranged marriage until Nilfgaard attacked Cintra. My grandmother was wounded on the battlefield. My grandfather was killed. An arrow through the eye, shot from the bow of a man with a winged helm. A man that my father had ordered to bring me to him".
Ciri quietened, stepping back when blood gushed down Ellana's forehead. Her eyes closed beneath the wash of red. The rounded nubs of two horns peeked through the stained strands of her hair. Both grew like seashells, curling and twisting over the crown of her head. Ciri was wary when she saw Ellana's nails thicken and turn black.
"Claws", she whispered, when each fingertip was tipped in a talon.
The hairs rose on the back of her neck when she heard the scrape of scales on stone. The tread of giant paws. The click of talons the length of a scythe. The flap of leather in the wind as membranous wings unfurled. Ciri was engulfed in a shadow that blocked out the sun. She was stuck between a shapeshifter and a dragon.
"Lebioda's knickers".
Hot breath stinking of sulphur ruffled her collar. Her skin prickled with unease. Fear lodging in her throat like a ball of spines. There it stuck fast. The woman she'd thought an elf had changed into a monster.
Horned, clawed and fanged like a succubus.
"Your sire reminds me of someone I knew", hissed Ellana. "Someone that used, abused and betrayed me".
"Who?"
"Solas".
Ciri knew that name. The word a reviled thing spat from the mouth of a wraith. A name connected to the White Frost. The title of an elven mage she'd met at the heart of a blizzard. Tall, black-haired and grey-eyed, he'd worn a suit of tarnished armour.
The gilded steel-plate a dull yellow. His face and cuirass streaked with slashes of brown, white and black paint. The pale cloak about his shoulders, stained with splatters of red. He'd carried a mage's staff in his left hand. A long piece of jagged ice that'd glittered silver-white in the sun.
Its edges neither straight, rounded nor flat as if he'd hacked it from a glacier.
She shuddered at the memory of him.
A soft rumble. The gentle nudging as if a horse were butting her shoulder. Ciri stiffened when hot moist air ruffled her hair. She could smell the draconid musk of the gigantic reptile behind her. She could hear its nostrils flare and constrict as it breathed.
"Maker's arse. Leave her alone. The girl's wary enough without you nosing her like an excitable pup".
Ciri gaped when Ellana flapped her clawed fingers. She inhaled through her nose, teeth clenching beneath her lips. Hoping the beast would retreat. She heard an answering growl that reminded her of breaking bones. She was relieved when the beast's shadow diminished.
The sulphurous stink of its breath going with it.
She was bathed in sunlight again. That yellow warmth a comfort. She breathed a little easier, glad that it was over. She reddened when Ellana chuckled. The sound of her amusement eerily like the dragon's growl.
Yet softer, silkier and even more frightening.
No elf she'd ever met stank like a draconid. She could smell that reptilian musk. The scent of sulphur tinged with ash. She imagined the flames too. A bright and blazing red that burned hotter than a blacksmith's forge.
"It's a little late to be afraid of me, little bird".
Ciri's heart pounded in her ears. "I'm not afraid".
"Liar", retorted Ellana, her nostrils flaring. "Your fear stinks like rancid milk. If you mean to run than now is the time. Although I warn you. Only a fool tries to evade a dragon on foot".
"How far would I get?"
"Not far enough before my dragon gave chase", warned Ellana. "Careful, little bird. The beast has yet to decide if you'll leave my dreams in one piece or many. If you die here than you'll awaken Tranquil in the waking world. Dull and magicless with as much emotion as a stone".
"Would I be ordinary?"
"Until a man tried to take advantage of you. The Tranquil cannot give consent. You'd become the Emperor of Nilfgaard's chattel. Or Avallac'h's willing broodmare, primed to spit out half-breed brats. You'd never once protest either fate, trusting them as they twined the noose around your neck".
"Would you really let that dragon hurt me?"
"That depends on your answer. Do you seek to use me to avenge your honour? I will know if you lie".
Ciri recalled the plans of many that'd tried to decide her fate to better themselves. Emhyr var Emreis. The Lodge of Sorceresses. The Aen Elle. Avallac'h.
"No! Of course not!"
"What does my dragon think?" called Ellana to the draconid that'd settled at the bottom of the stairs.
Ciri heard its answering rumble. The flap of leathery wings unfurling. The smack of a tail as thick as a tree-trunk on the cobbles. The ground trembled beneath her feet. Ellana wiped her wet cheeks with calloused fingers, neither frightened nor concerned.
"What of Fen'Harel?"
Another growl.
"The little bird's request?"
A gravelly purr made Ciri blush.
"You ask far too much of me".
The snap of draconid jaws and a serpentine rumble.
"I am not a coward!" groused Ellana. "I'm grieving!"
Ciri saw how she stiffened, her spine bending. Her head came forwards, low and threatening as her shoulders hunched. She glowered at the dragon below, bringing her horns down like a ram. The dragon proud and stern lifted a head bearing those same horns. It crouched like a cat, hackles raised.
Its legs tucked low and close to its belly. Its wings wide and outstretched like the sails of a ship. Its maw open, exposing two rows of jagged teeth. Each fang the length of a man's leg. The tip of its silver tail twitched in agitation.
Ciri stepped between them. "Stop it!"
"Get out of the way, little bird!"
"Do you have any idea how much you're loved?" she snapped, planting her feet. "Fen'Harel sacrificed himself to save you from a pack of demons! He's being tortured – as we speak – in the pit that I dragged you out of! You were clawed to pieces and poisoned! Geralt spent six hours pouring potions down your throat to save your life! Yennefer cast spell after spell to heal your wounds!"
"I never asked for their help!"
"You needed it!" cried Ciri in frustration. "I couldn't let you die!"
She sniffed when Ellana glowered, reminded of her grandmother Calanthe. The way Ellana's brow furrowed, her eyes narrowing beneath silver brows. The way her jaw tensed in outrage. The way her lips peeled back to reveal her fangs. Calanthe hadn't rumbled like a peeved lioness to voice her displeasure.
Words had been enough.
"You don't know me!"
"But I'd like too!" implored Ciri. "You're Lara Dorren's half-sister! I'm a child of her blood! That makes us family! Clan! I demand that you acknowledge the bond between us!"
Ellana snapped her fangs, snarling in fury. "Dorian! That wretched arse! How dare he tell you about the Dalish!"
"He wants to save you. So do I".
"Zireael".
Ciri sucked in a startled breath upon hearing her elven name. The title associated with Lara Dorren and Ithlinne's prophecy. Reviled or revered, it had followed her since the sacking of Cintra. A child of the Elder Blood, with the power to traverse space and time. Yet when Ellana had spoken it, Ciri was neither ashamed nor upset.
There hadn't been reverence, fear or disgust in her voice.
It'd been a simple name – hers – without the tangled web of fate, fame or divine retribution.
Ciri's smile was genuine when she tugged at the glove upon her sword-hand. Peeling it off to reveal the bare and scarred fingers beneath. She offered Ellana her hand again, hoping that her sincerity was enough. This poor creature was so like Geralt before she'd come into his life. Lonely, heartsick and mistrustful of anyone unlike himself.
"I'm not from your world, but I am part of your family. I can help ease the grief, the pain. You don't have to be alone anymore. You don't have to suffer. My home can be yours".
Ellana glanced from her hand to her again. She saw Ciri's face, open and honest with a touch of innocence. She saw the eyes shadowed in black kohl. The irises that were that bold emerald-green. The ashen hair gathered in a messy bun at the nape of her neck.
This wasn't Lara Dorren, snide and arrogant. A princess of the Aen Elle looking down her nose.
This was Zireael – Daughter of the White Wolf.
"You know not what you ask", replied Ellana, certain that she'd been ill-advised. "If I remain with you than Solas will find your world. I am the reason he traversed this far beyond Thedas. Why he froze a thousand worlds in search of me. If I stay with you than he'll be drawn in like a spider".
"I know".
"You'll die".
"Then I'll die like a witcher", declared Ciri with a certainty that moved Ellana. "I won't run. I won't hide. I'll face him head-on. Do what Geralt taught me to do".
"To hunt, fight and kill monsters".
"Yes".
Ellana bowed her horned head, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood. "Brave, little bird", she declared with a snake's hiss and the flick of a forked tongue. "Bolder than a dragon armoured with scales and hide. Feathers alone won't shield you from the blizzard. Only fire can melt ice".
She clasped Ciri's hand with a smack and a glint of black claws.
"You'll stay?"
"For you. We'll try".
"We?"
Ellana nodded to the dragon at the foot of the stairs. "We".
The beast bowed its horned head, easing back onto its haunches. There it sat placid as a cat on a cushion, lounging in the sun. A soft purr rumbled in the hollow of its throat. The tip of its tail still twitched, though it ceased to bare its fangs. The slow feline blink of its slitted eyes made Ciri uncomfortable.
"It she happy?"
"She?"
Ciri shrugged. "You're female. So I assumed that she was too".
"Observant of you", teased Ellana. She snorted when Ciri scowled. "If a simple jest makes you that irritable. I doubt that my shagging Avallac'h earned any goodwill. Geralt warned me that you were angry about it".
"I'm not angry!"
"You're glaring at me, bristling for a fight and you smell like a hot stone left baking in the desert sun".
"So what?"
"That means you're angry, Zireael".
Ciri awoke with a shout, near toppling off her seat. The chair tilted at a dangerous angle, wobbled on two of its four feet. Geralt jolted awake when Ciri cried out – darted across the room. He slowed when a clawed hand shot out, catching Ciri's arm. It held tight, keeping her from falling.
The angle precarious till Geralt rushed over.
He grabbed the back of her chair, pushing her forward. Four wooden feet touched the ground. Ciri gaped at the groggy half-elf squinting at her from Avallac'h's daybed. Covered by Geralt's borrowed blanket, her head pillowed on a cushion. The horns twisting up and over the crown of her head, disappeared into a messy tangle of silver curls.
They eyed one another, unsure of what to say.
Ciri saw her red-rimmed lids. Her bloodshot sclera. The narrowed black slits of the pupils in her irises. The exhaustion plain in the dark hollows of her eyes. Ellana was tired, cranky and downright irritable.
"Fine", she grumbled. "I'm mad at you for bedding Avallac'h".
Geralt snorted. "Told you so".
"Shut up".
"Can't. Need to check on my patient".
He bustled between them, urging Ciri up and out of her seat. He paused when Ellana made a noise of protest. The soft hiss reminding him of a disgruntled kitten. That she refused to unhand Ciri surprised him too. She never once dug her claws in, but she did maintain her grip.
"I'm not going anywhere", said Ciri whilst patting her knuckles. "You can let go. It'll be all right".
Geralt saw the raw fear upon Ellana's face. "Promise me that you'll stay".
"I promise".
She nodded her horned head, forcing her fingers to uncurl. One after another she lifted them from Ciri's wrist. Then she curled those fingers into a fist. The strain of that gesture painfully obvious to Geralt. Ellana was breathing hard by the end of it, her chest heaving.
"Easy. You're in bad shape".
"I know, witcher. My mouth tastes like arse. My skin feels red and raw as if I've been eviscerated while alive. I feel like a piece of shit run over by a wagon wheel. I likely look it too".
"I didn't want to comment".
She laughed though the sound was pained. "My ribs hurt. Thighs too. Maker's arsehole. Ciri said I was poisoned".
Geralt frowned, glancing at his daughter. "You told her?"
Ciri shrugged. "We talked in her dream. It's a long story".
"I bet. It can wait until later. Yen's gone back to Corvo Bianco to get supplies. We're running a little dry trying to keep four people fed and watered".
"Told you Avallac'h eats like a bird", croaked Ellana. "Need me to steal something for you?"
"When you're better", advised Geralt.
"Where is my bedmate?"
The witcher glanced over his shoulder. Their unwilling host was asleep, head bowed and shoulders slumped. He was snoring into his chest, eyes closed and mouth half-open. A line of spit dribbling down his chin. His pointed ears flicked back and forth on occasion.
That his leg jumped once or twice, the heel of his foot thumping the ground reminded Geralt of a dog.
"Taking a nap".
He moved aside, letting Ellana see her beau.
"Asleep the moment I awaken", she complained. "If this is what marriage looks like. I'd best reconsider. A man that drools in his sleep. He needs a bib and a bucket".
"That's not very nice".
"Would you marry a man that drools when unconscious?"
The very idea offended him on principle. "No".
"Thought so".
Ciri snorted, giggled then slapped a hand to her mouth. She sucked in a startled breath, so horrified that she blushed to the roots of her hair. Her mumbled apology had a smile pulling at the corners of Geralt's mouth. He schooled his expression with difficulty when Ellana asked a question. The subject odd if relevant when he considered Avallac'h's new set of bracelets.
"Are those manacles?"
"Dimeritium".
He was intrigued when Ellana was neither angry nor offended. "The metal that saps magic?"
Even Ciri was concerned when she seemed to perk up at the news. "Yes".
"Do you have a spare pair lying around perchance?"
"Why?" asked Geralt.
"I'll have need of them. Soon. An old boyfriend of mine needs a boot in the arse".