Yennefer managed to finish three chapters before she was disturbed. "You've been holed up with your beast for a while. Did you miss her that much?" she asked as Ciri entered their room.
"Stopped by to check on Geralt and Kain," Ciri explained, handing Yennefer a bowl of stew. She'd already finished her own in the kitchen. "Kain still hasn't woken."
Yennefer slipped a flower she'd picked in the book, letting the pages flatten it so it could act as a bookmark, smiling her thanks at Ciri as she took the offered stew from her. "Kain lost a lot of blood in the Crones' dimension. I'm amazed he was conscious at all after your healing. Is Nenneke tending to him herself?"
"Seems to be. She doesn't like me in there." And that only annoyed Ciri further.
She collapsed back on her bed, eyes on the ceiling.
"If you recall, in the past, there was another boy that Nenneke wasn't delighted about your socializing with on temple grounds, either." It didn't matter that Ciri knew Kain or that they might have shared a bed. The same would be said for Geralt and Yennefer, the sorceress surmised. "What made you think this time would be any different?"
"The fact I am no longer a child?" Ciri ventured. "It's not as though I was attempting to bed him."
"Ah, but Mother Nenneke is wise. She knows all about temptations and the evils of carnal lust. Besides, we both know that if Kain was to wake up and make such an offer, the likelihood that you'd refuse would be slight."
"He's barely got any blood left. I wouldn't direct what remains to that part of his body," Ciri snarked, arms folded over her chest.
"When the moment happens, you'll hardly have control over it," Yennefer said, spooning more stew into her mouth. "What of Geralt? Has he told Mother Nenneke of his connection to Kain? Did she have anything of interest to say?"
"No idea. We didn't get to talk much considering Nenneke wanted me out."
Ciri leaned up on her elbows to regard the sorceress. "Why is she so snippy with you? She always has been."
"I assume it's because I represent everything she abhors. There have been many things said over the years about my relationship with Geralt, about the way I looked after you. Our views about life are very different. Sometimes that's the way it is. We can't get along with everyone in the world."
"Does she even really know you?" Ciri asked. "The real you? She can't. If she did, she would love you. Like I do."
"I don't believe she cares to delve that deep. All Nenneke knows for certain is that I've hurt Geralt, and that is enough to judge me by. Although she has a grudging respect for magic – my magic. She wouldn't have allowed me to train you as I did otherwise."
"Would it have been her decision in the first place?" Ciri frowned, trying to remember. "I thought Geralt sent me to train with you – specifically?"
"Had I decided to take you away from here immediately after my arrival – no. But that had never been the plan. Geralt trusts Nenneke and all those within to keep you safe. The very reason we're here now."
"I know." Ciri trusted them, too. Though, for some reason, she felt so easily annoyed by the priestesses of Melitele this time around. Maybe it was because she was no longer too young to stand her ground. "Where would you have taken me?" Ciri asked, a dreamy expression in her green eyes. "If not here, where would you have taken me?"
Yennefer considered the question at great length, eating through half her bowl of stew before answering.
"My home."
The very one that Geralt had detested so much he'd eventually run away. Yennefer wouldn't have been able to parade her around as she did him, their social interactions would have been limited, and she knew the child version of Ciri would have ultimately been bored without any friends to play with or fights to train with. Now that she thought about it, part of her longed for Ciri to see that life, to actually be within a space that Yennefer herself had harbored - to see if it would be as repugnant to her as it was to Geralt.
"Vengerberg."
Ciri smiled, liking the idea of seeing where Yennefer had grown up. "What is it like? Vengerberg?"
"Like any city. Full of activity. It's not too dissimilar from where you grew up. It's beautiful and green with forestry."
"I would like to see it one day." Maybe they would be able to go once The Hunt was defeated. Ciri, Geralt, and Yennefer. And Kain, if he decided to stick around.
Yennefer was pleased to hear that. She'd wanted for Ciri to see her home. A gift once all this war was over. Unfortunate that Geralt would most probably not be in that scenario.
"Did you ever see your parents again after becoming a sorceress?"
"Never," Yennefer answered, swallowing another spoonful of stew, more bitter than the others. "Never needed to or wanted to. I saw enough of them when I was a child."
Ciri knew how that felt. She didn't remember much of her mom and the little she did... she suspected most of her memories were simply stories told by other people. She would have liked to know Pavetta. Everyone said she was sweet.
Emhyr, however. She wished they'd never met at all.
"Did you have siblings?"
"Yes," Yennefer replied, losing her appetite. She set the bowl aside on the bedside table. "My father was harsh to my mother after she had me. And she was nothing more than a shell of the woman she used to be before I was summoned to the Aretuza school. If she survived, I doubt she would have ever conceived again or found any happiness. She had far too much bitterness."
"Broken families all around," Ciri mused. "Perhaps that was destiny as well. So that we would find each other."
"Destiny has always worked in mysterious ways," Yennefer agreed. But at the same time, she liked to challenge fate. If she didn't, she probably wouldn't have found her family.
Ciri eyed Yennefer and how she appeared to have lost her appetite. Ciri hadn't even noticed until now and felt guilty for pushing the subject of the sorceress's family. It clearly wasn't a happy one.
"I'm going out to train," she declared, pushing herself off the bed and moving to locate her sword.
Yennefer hadn't meant to make Ciri feel guilty. To counter the mood shift, she reached for the bowl once more.
"How are you feeling with your magic?"
"Better," Ciri replied, sheathing her sword. "Or at least, less useless than I was."
"That's good," Yennefer mused. She'd only tried to help her that once since Ciri returned. Other times Kain did the rest. "What of your dreams?"
"Nonexistent with your potions. Either that or I don't remember. No Eredin." And that was the important part. Ciri didn't want nightly visitors in her head.
"If that changes, I hope I'll be the first you confide in," Yennefer said. She hadn't been before and as it turned out, she was always the last to know. She gestured that Ciri was free to go as intended and that Yennefer wouldn't keep her, anymore, and proceeded to finish her stew.
"Of course," Ciri promised. Unless Kain was in her bed at the time. It was hard to hide anything from him at those times.
She gave the sorceress a reassuring smile and headed out the door, eager to get outside again where she could lose herself to training.
"His heart is slowing," Nenneke said, leaning back from examining Kain, and gave Geralt a mournful look, but he wasn't looking at her, his eyes locked on his brother's still features. He said nothing, and she slowly rose from the bed. "Shall I bring Ciri? From what you told me she's attached to him, but would it be good for her to watch him slip away? Perhaps it's better not to burden her young heart with it."
She was watching him with question, but Geralt didn't know what to say. He had no answers and hated himself for the cowardice of inclining to the latter suggestion. The moment one dies can be too hard on those he or she leaves behind. Geralt didn't want that pain for her - she'd had her lion share at Kaer Morhen.
Instead of an answer he shook his head, his eyes never leaving his brother's face. Nenneke sighed and quietly left the room. Geralt needed his rest, but she had no heart to remind him. All she could do was pray some more. The Great Mother Melitele was gracious and omnipotent, but Nenneke didn't know Her plans. She could only ask.
Geralt didn't register her leave, nor himself lowering to sit on the side of the bed. The gloomy, nasty feeling of an impending doom and one of forlorn wonder consumed him entirely.
My little brother...
The thought struck him like a hammer upside the head. Even though both of them were rather used to the discovered bond, it stabbed the Witcher now with a double blade of shocked wonder and guilt. Somehow Geralt hadn't felt their age gap - he figured it was due to knowing Gwyncath from School and sharing nearly the same views on most things - but there was more to it.
Geralt had brothers: the witchers he grew up with, the witchers he lived and fought with for decades; Lambert and Eskel who had been around easing his loneliness, and then Dandelion and Zoltan that he was lucky enough to have met. Not every single one of them shared Geralt's ideas but each found his own way to understanding the Witcher and earning a brotherly place in his heart.
He thought of Vesemir, and then all the friends he had lost before, those he grew up with, those who knew a part of Geralt that had been young and green, the one buried deep under the thick and rough layers of experience and pragmatism and the old hurt of an abandoned child.
Like a man watching the dawn break and color the dark smudges of the night with light of clarity, Geralt saw it. A hole he didn't realize he had, for, along with Ciri since her return, Kain had furtively mended it. He was the very link to Geralt's roots: not only to the witcher in him, but the deepest roots that ran beyond the School and connected him to where he truly came from. His very own family, the true 'belonging' Geralt never stopped craving. The Cat Witcher brought that piece of 'home', and just when it took hold and began to heal, it was about to be ripped away again.
Geralt wasn't sure he could take it.
Nor Ciri's pain.
Heaving a long sigh, he closed his eyes. His chest felt tight and his head was beginning to pound. He felt he couldn't breathe and went to the tiny balcony that allowed a view of the stables yard and the walkway beneath, as well as the fields and forests around. He propped his hands on the banister and focused on just taking in breaths and letting them out. It was going to rain again soon, he could smell it in the air.
He hung his head, his chin almost touching his chest, his eyes closed, his fingers digging into the rough grey stone of the banister. A part of him wanted to kill something, many somethings, and another yearned to run and seek comfort.
... bury his face in that fragrant raven hair... feel those long fingers combing through his soothingly...
"Here, drink this, Geralt."
He turned and met Nenneke's attentive eyes. The cup in her hand was steaming, he smelled vervain, calendula, mint and something else.
"It will help you rest."
He had no strength to argue and took the cup.
"Maybe you have to try and make him drink whatever potion that might help."
"We've tried," she said, checking on Kain. "Most spilled and whatever got through was meagre. We couldn't risk drowning him - all his muscles are flaccid. He's too deep in, his pulse too slow. Not enough blood to bring life around. I'm sorry, Geralt. We're not gods - we merely serve them."
She took the empty cup from him and squeezed his shoulder.
"Get some rest. I'll be back to watch him."
Geralt stepped over his mattress on the floor, sat down on the side of the bed again after Nenneke left, and fought the urge to go see Yennefer. The guilt of leaving Kain alone, the fear of him dying at that moment, and eventually his own horrid headache and exhaustion kept him pinned to place.
Grim thoughts preoccupied Nenneke on her way to the greenhouse, her scissors shifting across the bottom of the basket hanging on her arm. From the corner of her eye, she caught Ciri doing one of her pirouettes, sword swinging, and slowed her pace momentarily. Her heart shrivelled at the thought of the girl getting hurt. And Geralt... Had the two not suffered enough?
She huffed a sigh and hastened her step, hoping to sneak away while Ciri was engulfed in her fighting sequence.
But the girl did catch sight of the elderly priestess and she watched her disappear into the greenhouse with a thoughtful expression before eventually sheathing her sword and following.
Ciri found Nenneke amongst the herbs and plants, taking cuttings from a specimen Ciri couldn't remember the name of.
"Is that for Kain? Has he woken?"
Nenneke forced a smile for Ciri's sake and shook her head, snipping her scissors. "There is no change. You'd have been informed otherwise." She regarded the girl, her smile warming. "You've grown into such a beautiful young woman, Ciri. It comforts my heart to see you again."
Nenneke's earlier statement had led Ciri to believe otherwise regarding Kain waking but she didn't point that out.
Ciri forced a smile as well, resting one hand on Nenneke's arm. "It is good to see you too. Though I wish it was under different circumstances."
Nenneke stroked Ciri's shoulder with her free hand, eyeing her affectionately. "You always have a sanctuary here, my dear child. I hope you never forget it."
"I thank you," Ciri said, genuinely grateful. "Though it might mean bringing danger to your doorstep."
"Nonsense!" Nenneke scoffed in her usual manner and returned to snipping the plants she came for. "This place has always accepted all kinds of dangerous refugees, and not once has it fallen or failed to protect them. Don't worry about us. You'll always be safe here."
You've never met Eredin, Ciri thought, but didn't voice this aloud.
Instead she gestured to the plants. "Can I help? What are you making?"
"It's mostly for herbal teas and solutions to aid good sleep. There's plenty of use for those." She cast a glance at Ciri. "Have you rested fine?"
"Yes," Ciri lied and immediately moved on. "What are you doing for Kain?"
Nenneke hid her sigh, her smile dying out. "We tried to feed him a potion to aid the blood flow, but there is nothing we can do while he's out cold. We risk choking him while trying to save. The only thing we can do is pray and wait."
"I can do more," Ciri said after a moment of silence. She turned on her heels and headed out of the greenhouse.
She wasn't certain how much more she would be able to do. Ciri was not a trained healer. But she could try to help Kain with her energy, her magic.
Ciri ran up the stairs to the main building and let determined footfalls carry her to Kain and Geralt's room.
"Ciri!" Nenneke whirled after her, but the girl was too fast on her feet. As she always had been. The priestess shook her head morosely and returned to the plants.
That voice...
Flowing like velvet and whispering like butterfly wings. He would recognize it anywhere, even if it were nothing but the faintest murmur, the subtle moving of her lips, as soft and warm as in his deepest faded memory... That memory which shouldn't exist, but did.
He cracked his eyes open with effort as if they were fused with pine resin, his head too heavy to lift it off the skins to aid himself.
He saw the auburn halo around her hair illuminated by the candles burning behind her silhouette leaning over Kain. Her hands, as small (and soft) as he remembered pressed to Kain's forehead and chest - over his heart. Her lips were moving almost soundlessly, but Geralt caught the words he didn't understand. Her eyes were closed in concentration, but he knew she was aware of him watching. He drank in the vision hungrily, unable to assess what he felt. His heart was pounding like a knocking fist in his ribcage, which felt like it was attempting to break free. In the back of his mind, Geralt hated this excitement and anxiety his body betrayed. Last time they met she did nothing to encourage such reaction, nor offer any reassurance. Either from the candlelight or magic, her hands emanated some aura of their own. It sparked a faint hope in him.
He watched, not daring to interrupt, until her trance seemed to have faltered. Her lips stilled, slightly open, and then she took her hand off Kain's forehead and planted a soft, long kiss to it, her fingers ran through his hair one time with the tenderness that broke Geralt's heart.
"You came for him," he uttered, and although quietly, his voice sounded like a rusty mechanism. He was too tired to speak. There was also bitterness behind the statement Geralt wasn't proud of but couldn't deny. When she turned her eyes to him, he knew she sensed it. Nothing in her face suggested hurt or reprimand. She said nothing, just looking at him, and he added, "Hardly prayers will help, though. It's the very place of prayer, and he's dying under its roof."
"A mother's prayer can pull you from the bottom of an ocean," she said. Her face was unreadable, but without any unease or guilt he recalled from before.
Or maybe there had been none at all and his mind recorded things that were distorted by his fever and fatigue? How much of what he so meticulously guarded in his mind all those years was true?
Suddenly uneasy himself with those doubts, he gave her a nasty sneer. "I shall remember that when I happen on that bottom. Even though it's hardly helpful in my regard."
There was something this time - in the depth of her eyes sparkling with candlelight. Or maybe it was once again a figment of his imagination craving for confirmation.
"It has nothing to do with any religion," she responded, "and all with the bond between a mother and her children."
"Children," he chuckled bitterly. "I believe there is only one such bond in you. But at least you followed it. I suppose I should be grateful if it helps him in the end."
She shook her head subtly, the halo around her hair shimmered. "You don't know what you're talking about. You merely decided for yourself that you do."
"Then why don't you ever explain?!" he roared. "Go ahead, enlighten me, Visenna, what is it I can't understand? A motherly bond? Yes, you will have to excuse my lack of experience, however, I dare state it's not solely my fault."
There was no fear in her at his reaction, merely a ghost of sadness. He thought something gleamed briefly on her cheek... a tear? "You're not ready," her response was.
"What the hell am I not ready for?" he growled, his eyes blazing even though he had a hard time keeping them open.
"To accept the truth you ask for," she said calmly.
Geralt jerked his chin toward Kain, glaring at her, "Does he understand it? Or maybe you simply spent more time lying to him to avoid talks like this if the world gets too small and your paths cross like ours did? Is that the truth? Or perhaps that truth is that you do have your bond with him and not with me? Is that what I have to accept, Visenna? Consider it ac—"
"Shhh," she shifted closer to him, her hand stroked tentatively (tenderly) across his cheek, cupping it, her thumb skimming his cheekbone.
Her hand was so warm and soft it sent thrills through his nerves. He went rigid, and then his muscles loosened and his eyelids doubled their weight. But he kept looking, drinking in her face, that smile so heartbreakingly full of gentle adoration he felt his heart ache in longing he had been killing in himself for seventy years. That kept returning.
"You need to sleep, Geralt," she whispered, stroking his hair.
He tried to protest and promise that her former trick wouldn't free her from his questions, but no sound came.
She looked at him as if he spoke. She was smiling tenderly, and he had no weapon to resist it with. "I never stopped loving you, Geralt. I never lied to either of you. I have never left you. I've always been right here." He felt her hand on his chest, then her lips, so soft and gentle, on his forehead. "People bound by destiny will always find each other."
He tried to speak, but couldn't.
"Sleep, Geralt. Sleep."
His hand shot forth with his last effort to catch her, and clamped on her arm.
"No!" he blinked through the sand of sleep, forcing the veil away. "You can't do this again!"
"Do what?!" Ciri stared down at Geralt with surprise and apprehension. He'd seemingly been asleep when she came in, but he'd suddenly lunged for her, his fingers capturing her wrist in a desperate grasp.
His glare slowly diminished the more the image came into focus. He swallowed hard, his eyes shot to the grip he had on Ciri's wrist. He let go and looked at Kain. He didn't seem any different.
"When did you come?"
"Just now," Ciri said, rubbing her wrist and watching him dubiously. "Are you alright? Did you have a nightmare?"
He shook his head, rubbed his eyes. "No, I thought... I saw someone else here." He peered at her. "Have you seen anyone when you came? A priestess, maybe?"
Ciri shook her head. "No. It's just you. And him." She gestured for Kain, finding his hand with hers. He felt cold.
Geralt ran a hand through his hair, watching Ciri with an aching heart. A part of him cowardly wished for Yennefer to be here.
Ciri shifted on the bed, nimbly climbing over Kain so she could position herself behind him, his head resting in her lap. Her hands glided from his shoulders to his chest, and Ciri's eyes closed as she tried to feel for his heartbeat. It was there, very faintly.
She pushed her magic to the surface, letting it linger there in a silent offer for Kain's body to take from her what he needed in order to heal. Ciri didn't know if it would work or if it would even make the slightest difference. But she had to try.
"Ciri," Geralt looked guilty, as if it was his personal failure. It felt like one. "He's... We can't do anything."
She didn't open her eyes, but she'd heard him.
The words that slipped from her lips in a whisper was Elder Speech, though Ciri wasn't quite sure she had intended it to be. "Blood of my blood, take of mine power and be sated."
What was the point of this coveted blood of hers, if it could not be used to save those who deserved it?
He didn't disturb her but merely watched, grief squeezing his heart in his ribcage.
It was just a dream, after all... Just a stupid dream.
Nothing changed with Ciri's efforts, and Geralt couldn't stand her pain, nor his own.
('I have never left you. I've always been right here.')
He could still feel her touch on his chest. With a touch of wonder and a bit of despair joining grief in his soul, Geralt reached out and covered Ciri's hand on Kain's chest with his own. When she met his gaze, he managed a small smile for her sake.
"Let's try together."
He closed his eyes and thought of prayer. The kind that wasn't religious and called upon no other gods than love itself. He thought of her auburn hair shining in candlelight while she leaned over Kain.
With his eyes closed, he could almost hear that imperceptible sound of her lips moving to utter words he didn't understand. And then he heard something else.
He snapped his eyes open and pushed Ciri's hand away with his own to feel it.
"It's stronger or... more erratic," he murmured.
Kain's breath changed to a quicker one, which made his heart beat faster. It wasn't working all too well.
Geralt grasped Ciri's arm and urged, "Get Nenneke. Quick."
Ciri eased out of her seat so as to not rattle Kain. But the moment her feet hit the floor, she ran, throwing open the door and charging for the greenhouse where she had seen Mother Nenneke last.
Nenneke walked back from the greenhouse, her basket full of herbs under her arm, when she saw Yennefer strolling in the garden. The priestess pondered, watching her, then approached when the sorceress settled on a bench among rose bushes.
"Are you and Geralt at odds?" Nenneke asked.
"He hasn't told you? I'm surprised," Yennefer said, without a single hint of the actual emotion in her tone. "I thought you two spoke about everything."
"He doesn't have to tell me anything for me to catch on it. And we had no time to speak of your relationship - gods know I'm not an eager ear for that one. It's a rather simple deduction, sorceress: his brother is dying, and you're not with them."
"Unfortunate. And there's nothing that you or your healers can do to help him?"
"We're just priestesses," Nenneke shrugged. "He's lost too much blood. We cannot help him while he's too far out." She squinted slightly, gauging the raven-haired mage. "You don't seem particularly heartbroken about it. But then again, expecting you to share the feelings of people you state you care about might be a bit of a stretch."
"Just because I don't care whether he lives or dies, doesn't mean that I don't realize how it'll hurt those that I do care about," Yennefer countered bitterly. She'd respected the woman but never really liked her. "Have you tried infusing Kain with outsider blood? We've been dealing with a lot of casualties in the last town and I've seen it as a popular technique being used between the doctors. It's still relatively new but it's worth a try."
"He's not fully human, and it would make things worse. He would be already dead, for all I can guess."
"You said it yourself, you're a Priestess, not a healer – could be that you might be wrong."
Nenneke wasn't in the mood to tolerate it. She propped her free fist on her hip and glared at Yennefer. "We are healers, and you're perfectly aware of that. We know how bodies work and how to repair what can be repaired. We merely don't fool ourselves with empty hopes like some prefer to do." Her eyebrow flicked up momentarily with meaning.
Yennefer was no mood in for Nenneke's entitled attitude either. She glared back. "This is no ordinary situation and you know it. Kain means something to Ciri and Geralt, it also means you've got to try every available trick at your disposal – even if it means you fail."
"I'm not going to hasten his death and add to his suffering by using methods I know would fail."
"Then I should bring someone in that might be willing to try. There's a medic that I recently met named Shani. She'll most certainly be able to help us with some kind of suggestion."
Nenneke grunted softly. "I don't suppose that medic has a halfbreed elf blood of the correct type at her disposal? If not, then I ask you to let the boy go in peace. All you can do is lend the people you care about your moral support when it happens."
She was about to leave, then stopped herself and gave Yennefer another gauging look.
"Is it your disapproval of his newly found family that's lodged between you?"
Yennefer considered not answering, prepared to head toward the room she knew Kain was in. "No, it's not." She didn't care to elaborate. If Geralt didn't tell her, then she couldn't care to do it, either.
Ciri found Nenneke where she had expected, along with Yennefer. It was instantly clear whatever conversation had occurred between them was of the non-pleasant variety, but Ciri had no time to dwell on that.
"Kain needs you!" she told Nenneke, taking the older woman's arm and practically dragging her out. "Come on! We have to go!"
Nenneke hurried with Ciri, not questioning the urgency, though a part of her thought the poor child hoped she could save him now that he finally died.
He wasn't dead, but she estimated he could very well be soon if none of her potions worked. She examined him quickly, then went to the table where the potions were prepared in advance.
"We need to calm him to slow the heart and let the herbs work," she said, and shot a glance at Ciri. "Hold his head. We should try our best not to drown him."
Yennefer had jogged after the two and was standing in the corner of the room out of the way, watching as they worked and tended to Kain.
In their joined efforts Nenneke and Ciri carefully fed the potion to Kain. He coughed and spilled a lot, but about two-thirds of the vial - by Geralt's estimation - found its way in. Kain was shivering and breathing in quick, shallow gasps that took a while to slow.
"I'll bring more," Nenneke said, brandishing the empty vial. "Now we can only hope his body responds to it and allows us to do more."
She turned to leave and caught Geralt's eyes, her mien stern.
"You should sleep more, you still look like shit. I'll bring more tea."
She walked past Yennefer and out of the room, closing the door behind her gently, leaving the family alone for a bit.
Yennefer cringed within at their efforts. She wasn't close to Kain at any means, but to see him like that, the look of distress on both Geralt and Ciri's faces – it hurt her. She walked over to the opposite side of the room, to Geralt's side and placed a hand upon his shoulder, an attempt at comfort that was as foreign as it was uncharacteristic of their relationship. "Nenneke is right. Kain's fighting now – he'll begin to heal. You need to do yourself a favor and get some sleep. It's been a long battle. Ciri and I will keep a close eye."
Geralt thought of Visenna's hand when Yennefer's touched his shoulder, and swallowed, covered her hand with his own. "I'm not sure I can sleep right now."
Ciri remained at Kain's side, her hand clutching his, head lowered in prayer as the low buzz of her parents' conversation reached her. She didn't say anything. She knew Geralt needed his rest as well, but he was not in critical condition like his brother. Ciri would not argue with him to make him rest.
Yennefer fixated on the hand upon her own. The touch was minimal on the outside, but on the inside it made her heart sing.
He'd destroyed her.
She nodded, hardly thinking to argue the subject, her attention averting between the two while they waited on further responsiveness from Kain.
"Are you all going to stand guard here like the soldiers you're not?" Nenneke inquired, walking in with a teapot. Its nozzle was steaming.
She poured a mug and handed it to Geralt.
"Sit down and drink it," she instructed. "You need rest."
He shrugged, squeezed Yennefer's hand before letting go, and obeyed the priestess, settling down on his mattress.
Nenneke held another mug to Ciri. "You can't fool anyone but yourself, child - you need it, too."
"I have no intention of leaving his side," Ciri admitted, reluctantly accepting the mug and giving it a cautious sniff. "What is it?"
It didn't escape Yennefer that Nenneke hadn't offered her any tea. Not that she cared. Yennefer took a single step and moved to sit down on the mattress beside Geralt.
"A herbal tea, of course," Nenneke said. "What were you expecting, young lady? Some Erveluce? I bet that singing scoundrel's taught you nasty habits back in Novigrad. But here we use herbs. Drink, you'll feel better and sleep soundly. You can't help him if you're tired as you are."
She shot a sharp glance Yennefer's way as if expecting the mage to put in a word.
"Will it put me to sleep, is the question," Ciri murmured, eyeing Nenneke from under her lashes. She didn't want to sleep. Not now.
"You will have to try, Ciri," Nenneke said, stroking her hair. "We might need your help if he wakes, but you have to be rested. Please, try. Both of you have to." She looked between Geralt and his ward.
Geralt drank the tea, wincing from how hot it was. He felt dead tired, his head was beginning to pound again.
"He'll need help warming up," Nenneke muttered, tucking Kain in with furs and skins.
Yennefer said, "I can attest to the fact that Ciri got adequate sleep last night. Geralt, on the other hand,-"
"Worries drain people even after decent sleep," the priestess said.
"Even so. Ciri's a big girl now and can make her own decisions."
"There are no big decisions here," Nenneke scoffed, shooting a reprimanding look Yennefer's way. "Only rest for their own good. Facing the Crones is no joke, Yennefer. You of all people should know I'm not an enemy here."
Ciri took a sip of her tea to placate Nenneke, then put the mug on the table next to Kain's bed, laying down beside him with one arm draped over his body to help keep him warm.
"Your bickering isn't helping any," she murmured, a statement meant for Yennefer and Nenneke both. "Can't you at least pretend to get along?"
"If only it wouldn't be too much to expect not to be lectured on how to heal people," Nenneke grumbled, then pointed at the mug. "All of it, girl, or you'll be sleeping in your rightful room."
Ciri's eyes flashed with annoyance. "Are you going to make me? You and whose army?"
It sounded like a dare and a threat all wrapped up in one, and even Ciri found herself a tad surprised by the words she'd uttered. She would never have dared to do so in the past. Wouldn't even have wanted to.
Slowly, she sat up again and drained the contents of her cup before finding her rightful place beside Kain again.
Nenneke wasn't Ciri or Geralt's enemy, that was a sure fact, but she wasn't Yennefer's friend. They were acquaintances who'd had a grudging respect for one another and tolerated each other, at best.
"Now, now," Yennefer interjected politely, surprised by Ciri's vehemence. She'd never been rude to Nenneke before. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. All I was trying to say is that Ciri is old enough to decide what's good for her. I wasn't trying to demean your healing, Nenneke, or even disrespect it. You've done all you can thus far and I'm sure both Ciri and Geralt appreciate it."
Nenneke was looking at Ciri with both concern and wonder. That wasn't what she remembered the girl to be like. Had Yennefer's tuition bore that rotten fruit? Or was it that strange magic coursing through the girl's veins?
She took the empty mug in silence and prepared to leave.
"I don't mind your sitting with him, but the kind of warming he needs I'd rather one of our girls provided. It's not appropriate for you to play that role in the same room with your... with Geralt. I shall send a priestess with a gift."
Ciri could only imagine what that meant and the images Nenneke's words conjured made her skin flush hot with jealousy.
"Geralt can turn his back if the sight of me bothers him," she said determinedly, tightening her hold on Kain, her face buried in the crook of Kain's neck so she could inhale his familiar scent for a few selfish seconds.
When she resurfaced, she shifted beneath the covers draped over Kain and began to undress.
The bright memory of Iola's naked warmth against his body made Geralt wince in regards to Ciri's intention, but he had no reasons to object. He knew close to nothing of magic the priestesses used to heal that way, and even less of Ciri's abilities.
He sighed and lay back on his mattress, finally let his eyes shut for a moment. It was hard to focus on any thought as he was drifting away.
Nenneke shook her head, disapproving, but even her boisterous character needed a breather. Somehow the girl and the sorceress were quite a handful this time around. Perhaps even more so than the time before.
"Come, Yennefer," she said and went out.
Ciri dropped her clothes to the floor and pressed herself against Kain's body, arms wrapping around him beneath the covers to get the warmth back in him. Like before, she offered up her power to share, hoping Kain's healing instincts would eventually kick in and help him make it through. He had to. There was no other outcome acceptable in Ciri's mind.
Yennefer considered being difficult and letting Nenneke know in no uncertain terms she'd stay, but what was the point? Geralt had turned his back on Ciri's doings and Ciri was already pressed to Kain's side. There was an intimacy there, too.
"You know where to find me, if you need me," Yennefer said to the air, leaving it as an open interpretation to them all as she started out after Nenneke and headed for the room she shared with Ciri.
Nenneke came to her in half an hour with a tray. It had fried rabbit with vegetables and a pitcher of young wine on it.
"Least of all I wanted to quarrel with you," the priestess said, placing the tray on the table. "Neither of them needs to see it. I will repeat that again, Yennefer of Vengerberg: I'm not your enemy. I'm trying to help Geralt and Ciri. And Ciri..." Nenneke sighed. "She's changed."
"As am I, Priestess," Yennefer said, dropping the book she'd been reading into her lap, hardly sparing the food the woman had brought with her any consideration. "Yet, after all this time, your opinion of me has yet to soften. Is that because I didn't manage to keep my promise and keep her safe or because you continue to disapprove of me? You think I'm the reason for her change?"
"That I am no judge of," Nenneke said calmly, "for I have no knowledge about your time with her once you two left - nor while you were here. I'm sure there are lots of things I don't know about. I do disapprove of many things between you and Geralt, but they are none of my business. You and I merely have different views and experiences, and that is it."
Yennefer could agree with that. That had been her relationship with Nenneke as a whole. Different views. Different ways of handling things. She glanced down at the rabbit and vegetables.
"She has changed," Yennefer agreed, deciding to answer Nenneke's prior observation. "Ciri's become a woman. A young woman with confusing feelings, a lot of her own opinions, and even more suffering that she's had to deal with alone."
Nenneke nodded slowly. Even if she didn't know the whole story, it was clear the girl was unstable, and Geralt's brother couldn't be the only factor.
"Are they in love? Ciri and Kain?"
"I believe so," Yennefer mused. "He's probably her first."
Nenneke scowled in momentary dismay. It wasn't what Geralt said. "They lay together?"
Yennefer recognized the look on Nenneke's features and decided to forgo Ciri's truth. "No." Not yet. "They're just… close."
Nenneke's frown of pensive confusion deepened, but she asked no more. There was a lot to digest as it was - she had no chance to meditate on the story the Witcher had brought with him this time around. She was going to do just that - on her own.
"Won't be as good when it's cold," she said, pointing at the dinner, and left Yennefer's room.
Yennefer watched Nenneke go and reached for the plate, smiling somewhat, amused by the old woman's unnerving at the idea of Ciri and Kain together. Yennefer had to wonder if that was because of the familial relation to Geralt or because the idea of Ciri laying with a man was so far out of Nenneke's field of vision that she automatically hated to think about it. Nenneke wasn't one for holding her tongue when she thought something was wrong — her view would be revealed in time.
Ciri didn't sleep. She couldn't. Even if Nenneke's potion did its best to pull her under.
All her attention was on Kain's body pressed against her and the way his skin was warming. It felt good, that strange way her curves molded to his so perfectly. Like they were made for each other.
Only Kain didn't feel that way. He'd made it clear so many times. How would he react if he woke up entangled with Ciri like this? Would he be angry? Disgusted?
Any sign of rejection would surely hurt, but at the moment it didn't matter. Ciri didn't care that Kain might punish her by closing off or pulling away. Because at least he'd be alive to do so.
She tilted her head back a little so she could get a better look at the boy beside her. He looked younger than he was. Deceptively so. And the features that usually displayed mystery and cunning were now blank with nothing but vulnerability and innocence.
Men always looked like boys when they slept. Kain was no different.
Ciri knew that had he been awake, and willing, her lower abdomen would swirl with excitement. Jolts of desire would have made her heart race and her breathing shaky. And that familiar sweet ache between her thighs would have tormented her in the most delicious of ways.
But right now, things were very different. Ciri's heart was calm and her body had drained of tension of any kind. Though her hand shifted on Kain's body every now and then, it never strayed south, remaining in the region of his chest and shoulders, slowly stroking along his arms with a curious tenderness very few had experienced from her.
She moved to rest her forehead against his temple and whispered words of encouragement into Kain's ear, telling him to come back to her – to them – and that it was not yet his time to fade away. He was too bright a light to be extinguished so soon. She needed him.
It should have scared Ciri how quickly Kain had gone from a stranger to someone she could not imagine living without. It should have worried her greatly. In her mind's eye, she saw a matronly figure suspiciously similar to Nenneke lecture her on how unhealthy such attachments were.
But Ciri wasn't afraid. Not of this. Even with Kain teetering on the edge of death, Ciri didn't regret a thing. She didn't regret the emotions of love and jealousy and heartache... They were all worth it. Just to have known him. To have had him in her life.
With Kain in the world, Ciri was not alone.