Chapter 1


'Have you heard the old Redanian saying about their cousins in the north? It is said that in Kovir people eat snow and shit gold. Well, I have visited Kovir many times and I can tell you that they don't eat snow but they definitely do shit gold. It's the only explanation for how wealthy the country is.'

Jacob Fielding, a merchant from Kaedwen, in conversation with others.


For a Friday afternoon, the atmosphere in the Grey Stallion townhouse was surprisingly sedate. Despite its less than excellent reputation, and located as it was right in the heart of the Pont Vanis port, it was always packed to bursting with fishers, traders and the occasional pirate regaling anyone who would listen with tales of bravado and daring. However tonight it was so remarkably quiet that Mina Smit, barmaid and occasionally purveyor of everything from dubious fisstech to her even more dubious dignity, found herself staring at the tavern door while cleaning beer tankards with a filthy rag she had only recently used to mop up spilt ale from the oak floor.

Three regulars sat in the corner of the large room, right next to one of the dock facing windows which, as with all others in the building, was rendered useless from years of dirt. The result was that the interior of the Stallion was dark and oppressive even during the height of the day and the only light came from the large open fireplace in which a fire always blazed. The hearth was currently occupied by a rather sad and sickly-looking piglet whose sizzling fat would occasionally fall into the open flames causing a loud pop and crackle.

Hendrik, the owner of the establishment, grumbled angrily from his chair, situated right next to the fireplace. Gripping a long pole in his chubby hand, he rotated the piglet some more, and he cursed when he saw its blackened side. "Lebiodas nutsack Molly, this bloody pig just won't cook right!" he bellowed, throwing the pole to the ground in childish anger.

Mina rolled her eyes and gazed at the overweight and corpulent landlord. His jowls were so large that they reminded her of a painting of a walrus she had once seen at the market. The seller insisted that the beast existed, but Mina wasn't sure at the time, thinking it just another myth pedalled by the sea folk to try and get her to buy a painting she couldn't afford. She had since revised that view as it wasn't too much a stretch to picture him on the shore of some island in Skellige trying to drag his fat carcass out of the seawater. "My name is Mina, and I've worked here for nearly a year; you could at least try to get it right!"

Hendrik spun his walrus head and struggled to spot her over the high back chair. "Stupid wench" he shouted, "I will call you whatever the hell I like. I pay you; I name you" he spat, gobbets of spit flying. "If I want to call you Molly, then I will call you Molly. I used to own a mule called Molly, and she was a damn sight more reliable and useful than you've ever been!"

Mina bit her tongue and continued to clean the tankard. He always compared her to the damned mule he had once owned. She knew very well that she shouldn't anger the man because he was violent and, even though he was slow and dim-witted, somehow always managed to find a way to corner her. She had taken more than one powerful slap from the walrus over the last year of her employment. The blows hurt, for sure, but she was used to being mistreated having, lived in the port all her life. In truth, the real damage was that the bruising the beatings caused to her face always ruined her nightly takings, and that was something she simply couldn't stomach.

"Where the hell is everyone!" Hendrik growled from his armchair. "This isn't right. It's costing me a bloody fortune. We would be through most of my ale by now!"

"You didn't hear innkeeper?" one of the men piped up. Mina recognised him as a wiry fellow who pedalled stolen fishing equipment from one of the piers, his name was Gunter. "The local constable has put the word out that if he catches anyone out of their house by sundown, he will arrest them"

"What!" Hendrik bellowed. "When and why has he done that?".

Gunter shrugged lightly and took another draft of his beer. "Not sure in truth, but it must be something big. He wouldn't chance to interfere in the daily work otherwise. It would cause a riot."

"There will be a riot!" Hendrik shouted while trying to heave himself out of the far too small chair with; Mina noticed amusingly, comical effect. "He's ruining my business!"

"Steady Hendrik!" warned one of the other regulars, which Mina simply referred to as Leach. You don't want to be starting anything with the constable. He's a bastard and doesn't take any challenges. Only last week one of the lads from the whaler, Herald, spat on one of the constable's guards because they ruffed up a friend of his. The next day they delivered him back to the Herald minus teeth and a tongue. I warn you not to start anything you can't finish."

Mina placed the tankard she had been concentrating on under the counter slowly. She hadn't heard of the curfew either, and it had surprised her as much as her employer. She was immediately worried that Hendrik was going to be livid and would take it out on her when he managed to extract himself from the chair. "Well, if that's the case I'm heading off. You don't need me" she said quietly, hoping to slink away.

"You're not going anywhere, Molly. Stay right where you are. This is all your bloody fault as normal you little cockroach. I've had nothing but bad luck since I agreed to let you work here."

"I'm not staying here to be locked up by the bloody constable, you old stupid bastard!" she shouted back, finally cracking. "If any of his lackeys come here, they will take me to the guardhouse, and I won't be seen again!". She looked over at the three regulars. "And you three better scram as well, if this curfew starts at sundown you don't have long left. It's getting on, and I doubt the constable cares to tell the time".

"The lass is right. I don't want to wind up tongue and toothless like that poor bloody sailor" Leach agreed while almost jumping to his feet. The other two of his drinking companions followed suit.

"Stay for another one gents" Hendrik suddenly asked them politely. "Half price if you stay for another, on my honour."

"Thanks, but no thanks innkeeper" Gunter dismissed him while gulping the remains of his tankard. "We've stayed too long as it is".

And with that, the trio left in a hurry.

"You stupid dog, you went and scared away my only customers!" Hendrik roared as they left. Showing surprising energy, the innkeeper finally managed to wriggle free from the chair and began to advance on Mina who immediately regretted having not run when she had the chance. "I will have you for that!"

Mina managed to duck under his fat, flailing arms and watched with glee as he somehow tripped on his own feet and smashed his chin on the countertop with a sickening crunch. Hendrik slid down the counter and crumpled to a heap on the floor, where he lay, totally still.

She may have very little going for her, but Mina was a survivalist and knew when to take advantage of a situation. Wasting no time, she emptied Hendriks coin pouch and gave him a kick in the stomach. Mina had no idea if he was dead, but the kick made her feel somewhat better. She then took a moment to get her breathing under control and turned to leave but decided to grab a jug of raspberry vodka from behind the bar before she left. It was going to be a long walk home, and she would have to dodge some guards patrols. There was no point in doing it while thirsty.

"See you later, walrus!" she giggled. "Have a great evening!"

She left through the front door, leaving it swinging in the fresh afternoon breeze, but not before giving the prone Hendrik a final kick in the plums for good measure.


The docks were eerily quiet, and the only thing Mina saw or heard in the first few minutes of fleeing from the Grey Stallion was a big, black and angry looking rat being chased by an even larger and fiercer looking feral black cat. The pair streaked across her path, and she jumped back with fright.

"Calm down girl, that idiot has got you on edge" she muttered to herself. Leaning into the recess of the nearest house, she unplugged the jug and took a deep gulp. The vodka burned as it slowly made its way down her throat, but she immediately felt better and warmer. Taking a moment to savour the burn, she decided that it was far more sensible for her to try and skirt the docks themselves where the constable's patrols would likely concentrate. She stepped out and turned east, heading towards crucible street and the pits, possibly the worst area in the Pont Vanis but somewhere, strangely, she felt most safe. The constable's men wouldn't go there for fear of disappearing, but she knew a lot of the pits less than savoury characters and would prefer to take her chances with them than the law.

To keep up her spirits, she snorted a whole palmful of fisstech as she walked, taking a moment to sneeze and wipe the blood from her nose as the pain faded. The depressing and filthy grey lined streets suddenly started to render in stark, beautiful colours that sparkled and danced across her eyes. The permanent smell of fish, shit and the worst of humanity were replaced by the scent of blossoms, or at least what she thought were blossoms, having never actually seen or smelt them before. "That's better!" she laughed to herself as she began joyously skipping down the narrow alleys. "Nothing like a bit of spark to end the day on a high!"


The palace of Pont Vanis was profoundly practical. It lacked the childlike, fairy-tale charm of Toussaint or the cold, dark and foreboding architecture of a Nilfgaardian fortress. Like its sister palace in Lan Exeter, it was constructed of different types of stone hewn from the mountains that surrounded Kovir like an impenetrable shield, lending it a contrasting colour that was not normal in a stone palace. Because of the fabulous wealth of the kingdom, due mainly to the abundant levels of natural resources to be mined, the kings of old had employed the best of the stonemasons from across the world to build it. No expense had ever been spared on the palace, even more so than its sister in Lan Exeter, and evidence of this attention to detail could be found in every area, be it the incredibly detailed scenes of old battles and historic events painted by masters on the walls to the beautiful statutes that lined every corridor. During the summer months, Pont Vanis acted as the capital city, the epicentre of commerce and government in the country and was the seat of the king and the royal household.

Thankfully, it was also well designed to protect the inhabitants from the often-frigid temperatures in the far north while remaining airy and open to the elements, a fact for which Triss Merrigold, sorceress and personal advisor to King Tankred, was eternally grateful. In the five years since she agreed to the position as the kings magical advisor she had, despite her best efforts, never managed to gain the resilience to the temperature of the natives. To combat this, she had resorted to casting a long-lived spell in the morning to keep her sufficiently warm throughout the day until she could return to her home and warm up. The magical solution was a markedly better option than wrapping up in furs which, as a sorceress, she simply couldn't consider as, like all of her sister sorceresses, she had a figure and beauty that left most men weak at the knees. It was impossible to use her charm as a weapon when she was wrapped up in enough fur to make her look like an angry she-bear from the Skellige Isles.

As she sat in her high backed and sumptuously carved chair, designed for her on the personal order of Tankred himself, she found herself struggling to concentrate. The rest of the members of the privy council, men, all four of them, were pettily arguing with each other, sending sniping remarks through gritted teeth and firing insults back and forth between veiled accusations and threats. Triss shook her head slightly to try and shift the daze she felt and then looked over at Tankred who was sat at the head of the table, resting his chin on his crossed fingers. Tankred was, Triss admitted, a very handsome man in his mid-thirties. He was a good king, of good stock, raised well by his parents and now free of the youthful impulses he had as a child which were if others were to believe, impressively debauched and decadent. He was intelligent and sensible, honest and genuinely caring of his subjects, arguably at times to a fault. Not for the first time, Triss caught herself admiring his shoulder-length black hair as it glistened in dappled light from the stained-glass windows. Her experience with the king allowed her to detect the very faint raised edge of his left cheek and the deepening of his brown, which meant he was trying hard to contain a sneer. Triss had known him long enough to feel when he was unhappy and that she should refrain from interrupting, a skill some of the other around the table seemed entirely too stupid to learn.

"When you have finished gentleman, do you want to sit your arses down and shut your mouths?"

Triss smiled. Tankred was, unlike most kings, not overly fond of decorum. He was however fond of the occasional curse and expletive. This vocabulary was entirely unlike that of his late fathers, but she found it gave him a far more approachable demeanour than that of his fellow monarchs. It was one of the main reasons she liked him so much as she was not opposed to uttering an unseemly word herself on occasion. Tankred simply didn't beat around the bush with fancy speech like Anrietta of Toussaint or, for that matter, as Foltest of Temeria, her previous king had done.

The privy council came to heel immediately upon registering their kings' rebuke and, as requested, sat down and shut their mouths. However, Triss registered the indignation in some of their movements. All of the men around the table had been part of Tankred's father's privy council and were used to ruling on his behalf with very little interference. Tankred was far more hands-on and interested in the daily pulse of the kingdom, which still didn't sit well with them. The king had an annoying habit of peeking under stones and asking questions they didn't want to answer.

"So, Marshal Van Dijk," the king said after he had let them sit in silence for a few moments. "Before your colleagues so rudely interrupted your report, you were saying…"

Marshal Pieter Van Dijk, head of the military and of keeping the peace in the kingdom coughed and bowed his head towards his monarch. He was a man of advancing age, Triss guessed around 65 years old, who was now completely bald. She often amused herself at his expense by imagining that the tremendous amount of hair in his ears and nose was a rearguard action of hair still attempting to escape his scalp.

"Your Grace, I ordered a lockdown of the port and the surrounding districts based on what information I had at the time. I felt it was the right thing…"

"It was Marshal. Well done for taking quick and decisive action" Tankred replied, cutting him short.

"My king, are you convinced that taking such drastic action was the right way forward? Think of the panic and think of the impact to trade this may have!" Lord Hans Janssen, the secretary of trade and commerce, blurted out. "We will lose days of income!"

Tankred looked glanced at the secretary of the coin, Lord Gunther De Vries. "What will the likely damage be?" he asked.

Lord De Vries lifted his head to look at the ceiling and pretended to do some mathematics while moving his lips. It was an annoying habit he had which he thought made him look learned but in reality, made him look foolish. "Maybe two hundred thousand gold pieces from tax and maybe another three hundred thousand in loss of export. In truth, my grace, it will sting but nothing more."

"As I thought" Tankred nodded. "I take on board your concern Lord Janssen, but I am sure Koviss can stomach the minor loss of a few days of trade to sort this matter out. The ships aren't going anywhere, and the last thing I want is for the good people of this realm to think that I am not able to protect them from threats of both external, and as in this case, inner nature. Furthermore, I am sure if we find ourselves short of the ready coin during this brief interruption, which I am happily assured we won't, we can always drop in one of your mansions and shake down the furnishings. I am confident there would be are a few hundred thousand loose coins lying around to make good the deficit".

Lord Janssen laughed drily at his kings' remark, but only after the others had started laughing on his expense. De Vries was positively crying with mirth. The laughing stopped sharply when they all finally realised the king was not joining them. "A good jest your grace" he added quietly.

"Indeed" Tankred replied flatly and, Triss had to admit, rather menacingly.

She watched as Tankred rose from his chair and walked over to the only open window in the room, overlooking the port. The king stood like a figure carved out of the stone of the room itself, pale but unflinching, the profile of his broad, muscular shoulders and well-cut frame dominating the sunshine from the outside, casting a long shadow on the polished floor of the council chamber. He stood silent and motionless for almost minute, back to them all, clearly mulling something over to himself.

"Do we really have no leads at all? Not even an inkling?" he finally asked.

"None your grace. I have all my agents on the investigation, and they have turned up nothing. I assure you that no expense has been spared on hiring the best talent in this regard. The warning has seemingly come out of the blue, and we have simply nothing else to work with at all" Van Dijk replied. "I have ordered the constables to question anyone they can think of who might know something and my field agents are squeezing everything they have. I am afraid to report that the well is, so far at least, entirely dry."

"Let us cease referring to what has occurred as a warning" Tankred growled without turning around. "It was a murder, not a warning, and I am still waiting on someone to tell me how, despite being one of the most heavily guarded places in the world, someone managed to place a woman's severed head with a note in her mouth on the map of Kovir in my study.

The council chamber was suddenly so quiet that a slight breeze which played outside the window started to sound like a hurricane. The Marshal visibly squirmed in his chair while everyone else stared at their hands, including Triss.

"I've ordered the guards rotated and doubled. They are all being questioned and will be reprimanded" the Marshal replied after a few moments of silence.

"Don't be so bloody stupid my lord!" Tankred span around to face him. "The guards are not to blame here. Do you think whoever it was would be deterred by twice as many guards? How many are there as it is? Fifty, a hundred?"

"Forty-five in your residence alone your grace, with four posted outside the study" Van Dijk replied sheepishly.

"Exactly" the king stated flatly. "Forty-five and it didn't mean a damn thing". He remained quiet for a moment, staring directly at the wall opposite. "Who was the girl?"

"We are not sure yet, but I believe it was a bakers daughter from the trade quarter". "We will have confirmation shortly" Van Dijk answered.

"Very well" Tankred turned to peer out of the window again. "Lord Janssen, you will ensure that due payment is paid to the parents of the deceased woman and ensure that they have our heartfelt condolences. Please point out that there will be no stone left unturned to find the murderer and that they will have the right to demand the punishment when he is found."

The king's secretary, unofficially the most important of the lords but officially the right-hand of the king, nodded in response even though Tancred couldn't have seen the gesture. "Of course, your grace, consider it done."

"Thank you, Lord Janssen. Marshal, please update me on the progress of this investigation this evening. The rest of you, I expect you to do what you can to limit the damage this incident will cause to Kovir's trade and administration over the coming hours. Mark my words all that, when I find this killer, I will make his punishment a public spectacle of the highest calibre".

The silence that followed his words left him in no doubt that they all understood completely.

"Leave me now" the king commanded. "I wish to think." The king waved a hand to dismiss the guards as well.

The guards on the door responded as the privy council stood, bowed and began to disperse as fast as they could. Triss was just about to follow them but was stopped before she reached the threshold.

"Not you, Lady Merrigold, stay if you would," Tankred asked.

"As you wish your grace" she replied softly as the chamber door was slowly closed in her face. She stood motionless, arms crossed behind her back and waited for Tankred to continue.

The king looked over his shoulder and fixed her with his deep, emerald green eyes, and she felt somewhat better when she saw that he was smiling, albeit weakly. "Join me for a walk if you would be so kind, I would like some fresh air and the company of someone who speaks sense."

"Well, your grace, I would recommend someone else then" Triss chuckled and was pleasantly relieved to see Tankred respond in kind. She slowly walked over to her king and smiled at him again. "How do you feel?" she asked.

"Apart from the fact a woman's head appeared in my study?" he replied. "I am concerned. As you undoubtedly know, I've had plenty of women in that room, but this is the first time I have only had a part of one."

Triss grimaced at the bad taste in humour and Tankred immediately backtracked. "I am sorry, my lady, it was a bad jest to try and soothe my thoughts. The truth is that my mind is unsettled, and I am not afraid to admit that this has shaken me to the core. I still don't know what this is supposed to mean or why I have been threatened. The Marshal seems incapable of rooting out anything out at all, and my other…less conventional methods, have also failed me."

Triss remained stone-faced at his thinly veiled accusation. She had spent as much time as possible with the head since it had appeared and scoured the crime scene. All had been subjected to her full repertoire of spells, but all of her efforts had turned up nothing. She hated to admit it, but she was as confused and dumbfounded as the rest of the council.

The king took her arm in his and paced towards the door. "Join me for a walk in the gardens please, I find your company a very effective remedy to a bad mood and a troubled mind."

"As you wish your grace" Triss responded quietly. "Though I fear what others might say."

"Let them talk," Tankred said dourly. "I know of your betrothal, and, despite what others might think of kings in general, I am not so inclined to jump up and down on vows. Well, at least not anymore! I am also aware of who you are betrothed to, his reputation and of your own prestigious capabilities."

"Thank you."

"I insist. You have been a trusted advisor at my court for some time, and I am yet to meet this man that lives in my kingdom, eats my food and breathes my air. I think it is time that you introduced me to him."

She smiled weakly. "Your Grace, he has little time for royalty or, in fact, any kind of authority. You would find him stubborn, difficult and brash. He doesn't like to waste words and is not well displeased towards politics, political games or those who play them".

"Good, he sounds like a breath of fresh air! You can see what a bunch of puffed up roosters my council consists of, thrusting out their feathers and cawing their superiority over each other at every opportunity. It's becoming tedious."

She coughed politely.

"Present company accepted of course" Tankred added, acknowledging the playful rebuke "Let's walk" the king commanded.


Tankred led her out of the palace proper and into the extensive palatial gardens. The sun was bright and the slight cold only a minor inconvenience for Triss, though, as usual, the king showed no effect from the drop in temperature. In truth, it was a mild day, but as a precaution, she raised the heat of her warming spell slightly to counteract the cold.

The gardens, like the palace itself, were spectacularly well designed and beautiful. If you looked carefully and knew him well enough, you could see how the king had again had much more say in their upkeep than his father ever had. Violet roses, ever his mothers' favourite, could be spotted here and there in strategic locations so that when he walked, the king would always have at least some of them in eyeshot. The rest of the gardens were full of bushy low-temperature plants, favourites of his father, which were hardy but no less charming. During the snow, the gardens were genuinely breath-taking and were as close to a picturesque winter wonderland as you could achieve. As usual, Tancred was trailed by four of his guard who left enough distance so that Tankred would not be overheard while remaining close enough to react should a threat suddenly appear.

"What do you make of it sorceress?" he asked her after plucking a bad petal from one of the roses.

She knelt beside him, looking at the petal he was holding. "I'm no gardener my king, but I think it's normal?"

He rotated his head slowly and fixed her with his deep, emerald eyes once again.

"I'm sorry, that was childish of me your grace. Though it pains me to say it, I am no better informed than the rest of the privy council. This incident is incredibly odd and worrying. I have done what I can to try and extract any clues from the head and the map room. I have cast divining spells and studied everything in detail, but it appears to be all clean. I have no idea how someone managed to put the head on the maps without leaving a trace I would pick up on. If I can't spot something, even with all of the capabilities and knowledge I have available to me, then I am not surprised that none of the Marshal's agents and specialists has picked up on anything."

"You were very quiet at the meeting. I feared as much."

Tankred stood once again and continued to walk, taking her arm in his. She didn't complain about the extra warmth that the closeness of his body provided. They walked in silence for some time, passing the statue of Lebiosa addressing Lan Exeter and the statue of Esteril and Agnes fleeing Aeidirn to elope.

"So we know that the head was placed there during the night, as it wasn't there yesterday when I was working in the room until late evening. We also know that the only window to the room was locked which, logically, means that someone entered through the only door. But, the guards are insistent that no-one, not even a breeze, managed to avoid their gaze?"

"That is an accurate assessment, my king."

"So if that is the case, and you don't think that magic was involved, what else?"

"I don't know for sure magic wasn't involved" Triss corrected him. "The spectrum of magic is vast, and I am not an expert in all areas. Some parts of magic are very obscure, dangerous or taboo such as Necromancy and I have no desire to dip my toe into any of those areas. It could be that I am simply casting the wrong spells and looking in the wrong direction, though I am confident that I should have picked up even a small clue by now."

"That is very honest and humble of you, and I appreciate the candour."

They continued their stroll. Triss admired the large stone pond and the dozens of large carp that occasionally broke the glass surface with a ripple as they fed on whatever landed on the water. The silence in the garden was complete.

"What if it wasn't someone?" he finally asked, taking her off guard.

"I don't follow you" Triss replied.

"What if this wasn't something. A real thing. A human thing. Maybe we aren't looking for someone but for some…thing. Something magical that has managed to evade your efforts perhaps?"

Triss stopped in her tracks, forcing the king to grind to a halt. Tankred raised a hand to calm the guards who had instinctively taken a step forward fearing he needed assistance.

"That would explain some of it" she admitted, looking at the ground and then up at Tankred. "But not all of it. The writing on the note for example"

"Maybe not, but as you are unable to deduce anything, and none of us here is an expert on the matter of ghouls and monsters, I think we may need some assistance."

Triss frowned at him, finally understanding where his line of thought was leading and what he had been alluding to earlier in the council chamber. She suddenly became very serious as she replied. "He won't like it your grace, and you may yet regret asking this of me. He is everything I said before and more besides."

"I accept that, but surely there is no harm in having him check the area and see what he can deduce. He is, I am reliably informed, the best at what he does?"

"Undoubtedly" Triss replied. "I know of no-one better."

"Good, then I am looking forward to meeting with him."

She grimaced. "I wouldn't suggest that you meet him immediately. Please let me handle it. It will require some preparation."

"As you wish Lady Merrigold. You know him better than I, but please do hurry."

"Your Grace, he will demand payment for his involvement. He's a proud man, and he won't work for free, even for me."

"Ah, yes. The famous code" the king replied. "Fear not; he will find us most generous."

"Thank you, though there is still a small chance he may refuse."

The king stood motionless and smiled. "He would refuse a king?"

"If he doesn't like the sound of it, unfortunately, yes…" she sighed.

"I could summon him and make it an official order" Tankred replied.

"You could do that, and he would ignore it as he has with every royal edict before."

"And what if I sent my men to the house to collect him?"

Triss smiled and sighed. "I would sincerely advise against that. First of all, he probably isn't home but plying his trade in one of your villages and towns. However, if that course of action still appeals to you then be sure to send as many men as you can and make sure none of them has children, wives or a desire to live".

The king raised his eyebrows and laughed. "I am glad to hear that his lethality is not exaggerated then. Very well, but I warn you that I will meet him Triss, whether he likes it or not. If nothing else I wish to cross swords with him and learn from a master."

"I am sure that can be arranged, my king. But for now, I suggest we start with the mystery of the head."

"And what will you do if he refuses you when you ask him?"

Triss grinned wryly and squirmed a little under the king's gaze. "Have no fear. I am convinced that the sun will fade to black before he manages to refuse me."

Tankred allowed himself a few moments to soak her beauty in. The perfect curves of her feminine body, her petite but not fragile frame. The thin but extremely tempting neck. Her sumptuous chestnut and red hair which was wrapped into her trademark double buns at the nape of her kneck and the attractively freckled rosy cheeks. His sorceresses eyes burned with fierce intelligence, passion and hunger for life and her pert, perfectly shaped breasts rose and fell slowly in time with her soft breathing. The revealing figure-hugging green dress that she wore barely concealed her body, leaving him expecting, and often hoping, it to fail at any moment.

"Have you quite finished ogling me?" Triss laughed.

"I'm just admiring you, sorceress" the king laughed in response. "I am jealous, that's is all. A man can look."

"As long as you don't touch. He isn't one to share"

"He's a fortunate man," the kind said as he started to walk once again.

"He knows that" Triss laughed to herself as she paced to catch up with him.