Geralt closed the door upon entering the room, and considered the elf before him. Avallac'h's facial expressions were often unreadable, but something ironic in the way the Sage was observing him made the Witcher think he had been expected.

"You know why I'm here?" he asked.

The elf gave an imperceptible shrug. "The only reason you and I ever have to see each other hasn't changed. How do you assume I can help you this time?"

"The banks. What do I tell them about what's done it?"

"What do you wish to tell?"

"What do you know about djinns?"

"Enough to see it's rather ludicrous. Any other ideas?"

Geralt folded his arms, watching him with aggravation. "I wouldn't be here if I had any."

"I'm aware." He peered at the Witcher with a wistful amusement. "Your goal audience is the citizens, and none of them is familiar with what exactly a djinn is. There is another enemy, however, that's no less mysterious but known to them all since quite recently."

Geralt watched him, scowling. "Are you jesting?"

"Do I ever?"

Geralt scowled deeper, and gave it some thought. The Sage waited serenely.

"Dimeritium bombs disrupt the Hunt's portals," the Witcher stated eventually. "So how could they have bypassed the banks' security?"

"The effect of dimeritium on Aen Elle magic is unavowed. Portals are a means to connect our world and yours, it's less stable than the rest of the craft they use here to kill and subdue."

Geralt frowned. "How does it help me now, exactly?"

The Sage sneered. "Can your straightforward mind get a little bit more creative when the circumstances call for it? Think, Gwynbleidd. If the portal magic is less stable, it's where it went wrong, isn't it right?"

"Hmm."

"Gwynbleidd?"

Geralt turned to him from the door, raising his eyebrows - his hand was on the handle and he was about to leave.

"Keep an eye on Zireael. She will probably create more issues for the people around her."

"You know what's wrong with her?"

The Sage smiled condescendingly. "Remember what I told you when we first met? You asked me if you'd find her. And, for now, you have."

Geralt's face darkened, he went out of the room.

"You two getting along now?" Ciri asked as she saw Geralt exit Avallac'h's room. She was in the progress of entering her own.

A chill traveled down his spine at the sight of her, and he hated it. "I wouldn't call it that. I was surprised to see him around, is all. I thought he was on Skellige."

"Guess he got lonely," Ciri mused. "How goes the investigation?"

"Slower than everyone would like."

"Dijkstra still set on blaming Yennefer?"

Ciri leaned back against the wall, arms folded across her chest. Geralt was yet to hug her. To touch her, even. She felt a distinct pang of sorrow at that. She wasn't sure what had happened to make him so cold. Was it simply that he was angry about Ciri and Yennefer's bank stunt?

Geralt shrugged. "Dijkstra wants any possible face to blame it on as soon as possible. I don't suppose he is specifically set on it being Yen's." He studied her. "What do you think I should do?"

"The Hunt," she said after a moment. "They've already attempted to alienate me once. Now they've moved on to my allies."

"The Hunt, eh?" Geralt considered her with interest and felt an inward pang in his heart. "A rather crafty plan they must've cooked. Knowing exactly how to set you up."

Ciri tilted her head to the side, assessing him. "You know what happened, Geralt. Yennefer told you. But you are looking for a way to twist the truth in our favor, are you not?"

"Indeed." The word tasted bitter in his mouth. "But I seek for truth that would be believed."

"And what have you come up with so far?" She let her gaze fall to the floor. "Are you going to give me to them?"

"You know I wouldn't do it. I'd rather tell them it was me."

"You have no motive," she said with a crooked smile.

Geralt's mouth twitched in a faint sneer. "I'm sure I can think of a few."

"I'd destroy this wretched world before I'd let you go to your death, Witcher," Ciri said, her face entirely serious. "You and Yennefer both."

"I thought we wanted to save this world. What changed, Ciri?"

"We do. But not at the cost of your lives."

"This world is worth more than our lives."

"This world is awful. Filled with cruelty and suffering," Ciri said. "It's worth nothing to me if you aren't here."

Geralt sighed, approaching to lean against the opposite wall face to face with her. "Every world has its cruelty. It's not for us to judge, for when we start to judge, it fogs our mind and robs it of clarity. Everyone has the power to try and make the world a better place. Especially you, with all that's gifted to you."

"You still believe that?" she asked solemnly. "Even now you have lost your faith in me?"

His breath hitched deep in his chest and his heart shrank painfully. He stepped to her, taking her face in his hands. "I'll never lose my faith in you, Ciri. Never. But it seems you have lost yours in me. It's as though you're rebelling against me."

She reveled in his touch, but still frowned. She didn't understand.

"Why? What have I done?"

"You killed a lot of people who did nothing but their designated work. It wasn't their fault. They weren't supposed to die because Yennefer needed some letter. Witchers don't kill people. They kill monsters, remember?"

"They were monsters standing in the way of my family reuniting," Ciri said, reaching for Geralt's face to cup his cheek, to try and make him understand. "They were in my way."

It petrified him. The way she looked at him, the certainty he wasn't able to sway.

"Ciri," he tried, his voice a little husky, "they just happened there. They weren't in your way. They were doing their work. You were in theirs - you weren't supposed to be there in the first place."

Ciri didn't comprehend a word he'd said. She couldn't manage to have it make sense.

"They were just men, Geralt. They meant nothing. Nothing compared to you and Yennefer. Don't you see that?"

Geralt nearly groaned. "They were people, Ciri. With lives. With children. This world is full of people. They mean everything to those who love them. Do you understand?"

"Yes, but they are not mine," she pointed out, more bewildered than ever.

It took all of him not to change in his face. He squelched the tremor of terror in his gut and battled the weakness in his knees as he slowly stepped back from her. "You need to rest," he said. "Have a good night, Ciri."

Ciri, however, did not disguise her pain as Geralt stepped away from her. He wasn't with her anymore. Not in spirit. She could feel it.

"Why are you being like this?" she implored, but didn't follow.

He frowned, "Like what?"

"You look at me as though I am a stranger!" Ciri exclaimed, tears gathering in her eyes. "You think I don't notice, but I do."

Despite the shock and pain pulsating in his heart, Geralt couldn't bear to see hers. He pulled her into his arms. "Forgive me, Ciri. I've a lot on my mind and lack sleep."

A small weight seemed to lift off Ciri's shoulders when Geralt put his arms around her, and suddenly she could breathe again.

She pressed her face against his chest, letting his shirt dry her tears. She needed this. She needed him to love her. Because without it... who was she? What was she?

"Are you going out again?" she whispered.

"No." He held her, going numb. He needed to be numb to get through it. He would think about it later. "I'll try to sleep."

She swallowed and reluctantly pulled away, swiping at her eyes. "Yes, you should. You look tired."

He looked at her warmly. It was impossible to perceive how come his little witcher girl was killing people simply because she could.

"Unless you want to have a drink? And talk? Is there anything bothering you?"

She smiled a little, feeling almost silly for having cried now.

"No, it's alright. I just want people to stop coming for Yennefer. They want to see her gone and none of the reasons have anything to do with banks."

"People have gone missing, and their families want answers," he said, watching her closely. "Just like you would in their place."

"I'm not talking about them. I'm talking about The Secret Service. Ebert, and Dijkstra, and Philippa."

"Nothing will happen to Yennefer. She didn't do it. Both Philippa and Dijkstra know it."

"That's my point; they don't care," Ciri said. "Just be aware."

"I won't let anything happen to her. Or you."

"And we won't let anything happen to you," Ciri assured him with a soft smile. "Go. Rest."

He smiled back, "You too."

Yennefer hadn't been able to do much while she waited on Geralt's return, and Ciri's, keeping an ear for activity in the inn, probing every now and then with her power for their energy.

When it found fruition, she patiently waited on one or both of them to find her. When neither came, she focused on the outside, checking on them, eavesdropping on part of the conversation.

When the door opened and Geralt stepped inside, she was already on her feet, striding over him to help him out of his armour.

"Dare I say you're back to actually make use of your bed and not prepare me for worst news?"

Geralt looked at her with exhausted anguish. "Nothing could've prepared me, but things she says... How she says them, Yen... I don't know what to do." He ran both hands through his hair. "I don't know what to do."

"Nor do I," Yennefer answered softly. She'd been prepared to downplay what she heard of their conversation, but like him, she'd been as concerned about Ciri's view. Not because she particularly cared about the people involved, but because it was a vast difference of who Ciri was inside.

Yennefer plucked at the buckles she'd tightened that very morning, loosening them, pushing them from around his waist before helping him out of it and sliding the jerkin onto a chair for the night.

"At least you managed to talk and not have her run away. I, on the other hand, appear to be saying the wrong thing every second of every day. Did something happen between Ciri and Kain?"

He sat down on a chair, propping his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor between his feet.

"I wasn't present for anything to happen," he said. "If Kain's account is to go by, he told her he couldn't be with her as she wanted. She was hurt, and she left."

"When did that conversation unfold?" Yennefer asked. The last time she knew of them talking was at the temple. Had that been the reason Ciri wanted so desperately to leave?

"Before we reached Velen, a few days ago."

Yennefer frowned. "Ciri didn't mention she'd seen you. Explains why she didn't care for any of my requests to look in on you both and why she kept refusing my suggestions to help Kain with his contract," she explained before he could bother to ask her logic. "I hoped that being in his company might keep her a bit more grounded. Do you believe a broken heart could be the cause for such a vast shift in her?"

Geralt shot her a reprimanding look. "It's not his fault, he has his reasons. She killed the Riders before they talked. And the banks... She wouldn't be there if not for the circumstance. She wouldn't deliberately kill people to take her hurt out on them. It's not Ciri."

"I never said it was his fault," Yennefer countered. To be fair, very briefly, she had thought Kain guilty. A broken heart could be tricky. "Do you think it could be her magic? The Elder Blood? Avallac'h tried to convince me earlier that maybe this is who she was – has been – all the time. It worries me because he's the one that's spent two years with her. But I also know that she hasn't been as dependent on him lately and that he might just be trying to throw some doubts or changes around to create friction."

"He can't know her as well as he boasts," Geralt said, bitter. "I won't believe it's who she is. Whatever shifted her in the head, we will figure it out. Whatever it takes, I have to figure it out. I won't lose her again." He peered at her pleadingly. "I can't lose her again."

"We won't. I won't let it happen," Yennefer vowed, striding over to Geralt, taking his face into her hands, observing the dark circles beneath his eyes. He'd had a long night the day before and even longer day today. She wanted to probe about the investigation, but knew, if there was anything she desperately needed to know, he'd have told her. She had to trust that. "How about I make up a bath for you, give you a massage to free up your tense muscles and help you in beneath the covers. I trust our troubles and desire to talk about them will still be here come the morning."

He felt a lump in his throat it was hard to swallow, and leaned into her, hiding his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent. It didn't calm him right away, but something loosened slightly in his chest.

Her heart picked up pace at the intimacy of his hold, at the relief she could feel coming off of him, heartened and struck that it was without their usual cause of distracting desire.

She let him hold her as long as he needed—finding that she, too, had been yearning for the comfort—and once he'd had enough, tended to both him and the bath as promised before curling up beside him in their shared bed for the night.

Kain left Onyx to graze in the backyard and went to the door. Fealinn was waiting in her doorway. She embraced him.

"You were waiting?" he asked, following her inside.

"I felt you'd come."

She poured them herbal tea and listened to him closely without interrupting. Her beautiful face turned preoccupied and sympathetic. When he finished, she pondered for a bit, a small wrinkle appearing between her eyebrows.

"It's not an easy judgement to make," she admitted eventually. "I've only had one session with her, and it's been a while back. Something could've changed in her since then."

Kain drank his tea in silence, eyeing her expectantly.

"It's not new, though," she continued. "She's had something dark harbored within her when we met. It's rooted in her past, her turbulent journey through childhood and adolescence. She's never worked through it, never let it go."

"She tried to," he said quietly, staring in his cup. "I saw her attempt it, she truly wanted to let it go. When we healed her scars."

"She hasn't healed all scars. It's not easy, Cath. With everything that's happened to her - she never told or showed me, but that tangled ball of hate, pain, despair and rage - it couldn't be buried for long. It was bound to come out like bubbling milk escaping its pot. Her emotions are always too close to surface. A mere spark is enough for her flames to burst."

"I shouldn't have poured oil on it."

She reached for his hand, squeezed it; her voice was soft. "What was the alternative?"

He shrugged helplessly, shook his head. "She asks for what I cannot give."

"Cannot or will not?"

He set his jaw, staring into his cup.

"What are you afraid of, Cath?"

He downed his tea, set the cup on the table, and rubbed his face with a shaky sigh. "I don't know. Every time she wants to get closer, it scares me. As though I've had a dozen stories that ended in heartbreak. But... it somehow feels like that. That I would lose her and myself. I can't explain it. And I thought one day there would come a moment of clarity when I'd know. But it never came. And I hurt her..."

She stroked his face, gentle and tentative, pulling his chin to meet his hazel eyes.

"You're not wrong to want to understand yourself, Cath. You'll find that clarity in its time. Everything has its time, and no one comes late to their date with destiny."

He chuckled softly. She smiled and got up, pulled him after her.

"Come. Let me help you a little. You need it."

He did, and he followed her. He closed his eyes and let the fragrance of her oil and flickering of her candles take him away for a while, ease his mind and loosen his tense muscles.

He slept.

When he opened his eyes, his mind and body didn't feel as heavy, anymore.

"How long was I out?" He rubbed his eyes, sitting up, and began to dress.

"Twenty minutes or so," she said. "You look better. Your night shall be restful."

She walked him out and they embraced. Their lips brushed in a brief, gentle kiss.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"Always," she said, and nudged him, smiling.

He returned the smile, his teeth gleamed in the moonlight; he clicked his tongue at Onyx that came trotting from behind the hut. Kain hopped on and sent the stallion into a light gallop to the other shore for a quick swim.

Ciri stepped back into the shadows of the treeline, watching Kain and Onyx from a distance as they rushed by.

She'd intended to seek out Fealinn for a repeat of her earlier session. The elf had made her feel so calm and relaxed, like she could let go of some of her anger and focus her attention elsewhere.

That would have been lovely tonight as well. Ciri wasn't exactly sure what was happening, but she did sense that something was different. She felt everything so intensely these days, as though her nerves were laid unprotected and bare at all times. It was exhausting.

But all plans of visiting Fealinn had died the moment Ciri saw Kain exit the hut.

Was that what taking on a contract meant? Had he been staying with Fealinn this whole time in his quest to avoid Ciri? Was Fealinn the reason Kain did not want to be with Ciri in the first place?

Tears stung her eyes again and she quickly wiped them away. Even now when she was entirely alone, she did not want to let them escape. It made her feel weak. Weaker. Kain had already laid the foundation for that.

Part of her hated him. Part of her wished he had never come into her life at all.

But another, a more vivid part laying close to the surface, still craved Kain's closeness. And that made Ciri hate herself as well. What a pathetic girl she was.

She spent some time among the trees, trying to rule down her emotions, to compose herself as best she could. Then she followed him. It wasn't hard. She still felt his presence like a magnet.

She found him in the water, his back to her as he washed and swam.

Ciri remained on shore this time, arms folded across her chest.

"The city is locked down. How do you expect to get inside with your horse in tow?"

Unless he hadn't planned to go there at all. Perhaps he was intending to go back to Fealinn.

Her voice startled him - he was deep in thought and paid too little attention to his surroundings.

He turned around and observed her figure on the shore. He could tell she was angry. There were dark specks in her aura tainted red.

"I'm a witcher," he reminded. "They'll let me in."

"You're not Geralt," she commented. Geralt was who they'd wanted to aid in the investigation. "I can take you back to the inn. Onyx, too. Unless you're not going?"

"I am going, but I counted on using my feet." He splashed water in his face, sweeping the bangs off it. "Are you all right?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Ciri had initially intended to ask him about Fealinn from the start, but now she was beginning to doubt the intelligence of that plan. If Kain wanted her to know, he would tell her himself.

He opted for honesty: "You look agitated. What is the reason?"

"Your eyes deceive you," Ciri said with a shrug. "I am fine. How was your contract?"

"Resolved. Another one needs more investigation, which can wait." He walked toward her, shaking water from his hair.

Ciri didn't turn away like she normally would. She didn't feel the need to give him privacy. She didn't feel like being the bashful and blushing girl he had come to know.

"Are you aiding Geralt in the investigation, then?"

"I believe he's figured it out himself. But I'll aid to get it to the finish, yes." He ruffled his hair to dry and reached for his trousers, pulling them on.

"I'm sure you will."

Ciri turned and started back for the trees where she could travel back to the inn without being spotted by onlookers.

If Kain did not want her help, she would not force it upon him.

"You won't walk with me?" he asked her turned back, putting on his jerkin.

"They won't let me in through the gate. Dijkstra ordered me to stay within city limits."

"They'll let you in." He started toward the city with Onyx in tow.

She turned to watch him over her shoulder. "Because you will it so?"

"I was going to go with convincing." He smiled at her, not slowing his pace.

She hesitated. And eventually followed. She was curious to see how he was going to pull this off.

There were five guards at the Oxenfurt gate. Two of them tried to shove away two travelling merchants, one of which was significantly drunk and barely standing. Three others focused on Ciri and Kain.

"The city's closed," one of them said.

"I'm a witcher, White Cat, working with Geralt of Rivia," Kain said and nodded toward Ciri. "And this is one of the famed Lodge members."

The guards sneered.

"Don't they travel on their brooms? Nah, Witcher. You can pass, but your little lover maid will have to go back to her village or wherever you pulled her from."

"Splendid," Kain smiled. "And I shall tell Philippa Eilhart that her closest friend Margarita Laux-Antille was punished for her innocent whim to have a stroll with a Witcher after the important task we had to perform for the investigation."

The smiles drained from the guards' faces. One of them brought his torch closer to take a better look at Ciri. Kain leaned to him, touching his hand wrapped around the torch.

"I don't advise looking into her eyes," he suggested.

The guard blinked and stepped away. "You can pass, Lady. Witcher." The rest mimicked his move.

Kain and Ciri went, Onyx on their heel.

"What would you have done if they knew who Margarita is?" Ciri asked quietly as they strolled in the direction of the inn. "Knocked them out?"

"No. I'd convince them of seeing Margarita in you."

"How?"

"Average people are rather susceptible to convincing," he explained. "There are tricks to strengthen the effect - a touch, looking in the eye being two of such. And if it's someone difficult, magic helps - to some extent. Someone like you wouldn't fall for it unless you allow it."

Ciri would have to try it for herself sometime soon. According to Avallac'h, she was more than capable.

"Someone like me?"

"You're special, but even if we dismiss the nature of your magic, your mind is rather strong on its own, especially when it's focused. It's hard to trick you."

Is it, she wondered. He'd certainly managed.

"Right," she said, pausing in her stride for as long as it took for Onyx to be deposited into the care of the stable boy at Rosemary and Thyme, before heading for the entrance to the inn.

"Thank you for my admission ticket."

He watched her with a deceivingly open face and hidden doubts that crawled in his gut like worms.

"No need for thanks," he said, following her inside.

Ciri headed straight for the bar. She was not tired. Nor did she truly have a place to sleep now Kain had returned to claim his old room. He didn't need to know that. She didn't want him to.

Instead, she found herself an empty tankard and poured herself some of Zoltan's ale.

He lingered, observing her with growing unease. Something was definitely wrong, and some of it was due to their last short conversation, but there had to be something else. He couldn't put a finger on it.

"It's rather late," he remarked. "You're not going to bed?"

"Not yet," she responded, taking a seat at the counter. "I'm thirsty."

And she wasn't sure she'd manage to sleep, anyway, now he was here. Too many thoughts racing through her mind.

He nodded and proceeded for the stairs, his heart felt heavy in his chest. He didn't want to stay in the room, he realized when he entered it and cast a look at the bed. He yearned to go to Griffin.

He shrugged off his jerkin and took off his shirt to hang them on the back of a chair in front of the fireplace he had lit. And then he saw Ciri's sword. It was standing against the wall.

He sighed. And put in his jerkin back, took the shirt, and went back downstairs.

"I'll spend the night with Griffin," he told Ciri. "You can return to the room."

Ciri looked up from her drink, brow furrowed in confusion. "Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he shrugged. "You're staying there now, so you can go back. It's fine."

She shook her head. "You need sleep more than me. After your contract, and all. I'll be fine."

"I'll get my sleep in Griffin's cave. It's all right. Truly." He gave her a smile and went for the door.

"Griffin's cave," Ciri mused and drank. "Is that what we're calling Fealinn's bed now?"

He turned around, peering at her in shock. "Of course not. Why are you saying that?"

"I saw you with her," Ciri said, eyes on her tankard. "It's where you truly were, right? You haven't taken on contracts for ages. It was strange that you suddenly chose to now.

"Is she the reason you can't be with me? If so, you should have told me from the start. It would have made sense. Instead, I've been running around consumed with questions of what is wrong with me. Of what I have done wrong." She drank again. "You should have told me."

A wave of heat traveled through him as if her words were washing over him with boiling blame and hurt. He tossed the damp shirt on one of the chairs on his way to the bar.

"You're wrong, Ciri, on so many levels," he said, stopping behind her. "Geralt took the contract on our way back and I stayed longer to question a few possible witnesses. Fealinn is not a reason for any of my decisions. We've never been lovers. Ciri, look at me."

Ciri relinquished her hold on the tankard and turned in her seat, elbows on the bar behind her.

"That's not what it looks like. And I wouldn't even blame you. Not really. She's beautiful and kind and skilled. Uncomplicated."

Everything Ciri was not.

She swallowed the urge to scream in his face, trying to remain calm.

"You knew from the start that what I wanted from you, you didn't want to give. Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you make it perfectly clear? Why did you let me continue falling for you, Kain? Why did you give me hope where there was none?"

It stabbed him, deep. Not as much with how she had twisted things in her mind, but with that strike of reason he felt guilty for. He could've cut her hope had he not have his own stirring and worrying inside his heart. The one he tried to squelch.

"Forgive me," he said, eyeing her with a repentant face. "I answered you when you asked, not before. I never wanted you to suffer and hope in vain. But it has nothing to do with any other woman. There is no other woman. There won't be any other."

He was lying. Ciri could tell.

She shot him a disappointed look, one that mirrored the feeling currently clutching her heart.

"Lies drip from your lips like honey," she whispered, eyeing Kain's lower lip as though she could actually see the imagery in her head.

A moment later she blinked and resurfaced, slipping off her seat and heading for the door.

"You take the room. I won't sleep anyway."

"Ciri! I never lied to you!" He wanted to stall her with his magic, badly, and talk some sense into her, but at the same time realized it was futile. In truth, Kain didn't know how to change her mind.

Ciri didn't pause in her stride, afraid that, if she did, Kain would manage to draw her back in, to make her confused and hopeful again.

If she were to get through all this with her sanity intact, she needed to put some distance between them. She needed to start seeing him as what he was - Geralt's brother.

Already, her heart rebelled at the thought but Ciri forced herself to continue, slamming the door to the inn shut behind her once outside.

Kain leaned back against the bar counter, as though his knees suddenly weakened, and stood there, getting his pulse and breathing in order. Neither wanted to cooperate.

He wanted to think it should be for the best - for her to fully detach from him and thus never fall for anyone's manipulations of her feelings for him.

But his heart felt broken, nonetheless.

After a while, he took his shirt and left for the forest. He couldn't stay in the room. Her sword was still there.