Yennefer had taken her time gathering her possessions, maybe because she was miserable, and also because she'd been pondering whether to portal or ride to Oxenfurt. The decision was usually an easy one. However, like the witchers tended to do at times, she was craving a bit of solitude before she lost herself in her research.
She looked up when Geralt entered the room but found herself unable to conjure up any more words, assuming that he was there to grab what he himself needed before they left.
They'd already said their goodbyes.
"You're leaving?" he asked, watching her collect her vials of perfume and makeup from the vanity table.
Yennefer nodded.
"Research takes time and I'm not used to feeling inadequate. The last few days have been taxing on all of us. I thought I'd get a head start on the research. Unless there's more to know?"
"Before you depart, I need to ask you for a favor. Have you been to Tretogor? We need to get there today. Ciri will bring us back, so you won't have to wait."
"Of course I'll help," Yennefer replied. She wondered if he actually thought she'd say no. "Is it only you and Ciri traveling?"
"It's me you're taking. Ciri and Kain will follow."
"I'm surprised you're the one voluntarily choosing to take a portal," Yennefer quipped. He'd made the decision for her and her travel means. She did up the strings on her carry bag and straightened up. "When do you wish to leave?"
"When you're ready." He refrained from addressing her jibe about his issue with portals. He was done with issues for today.
She pulled on her cloak, swung the bag onto her shoulder so it could rest on her back and her hands would be free, and then summoned the portal, motioning for him to go ahead.
As soon as Geralt stepped through, she followed, the two appearing outside the walls of the Redanian capital as far from the entrance to its derelict and similarly fortified gates as she could remember.
"Why Tretogor? Looking for an audience with the King or wanting to sneak in a horse race?"
"Neither," he said, eyeing the city walls looming ahead. "I need to question a person from Velen. They're supposed to be there."
Yennefer had nothing else to say to that answer and the city itself wasn't too far from Novigrad. He wouldn't have to wait too long for Ciri and Kain to catch up. If at all.
"I'll leave you to get started on your mission then."
He nodded, regarding her; his hand itched to touch her face, but his confused mind kept it still at his side. "Be careful with yours and try to stay out of trouble."
Yennefer made another motion of the hand and carried herself away.
Ciri fetched her sword and fastened it to her back. She briefly paused outside Avallac'h's room, considering informing him of where she was going.
But her instincts told her he would put up a fight. He did not like the distance between them already. Better have someone else tell him later when Ciri and the witchers were already off.
She made for the stables where she found Kain and the horses but no Geralt.
"Are we not leaving at once?"
She knew Geralt had yet to have any rest, but honestly, how much did he need? He'd gotten to sleep through the night before as far as she was aware.
"We're going to Tretogor," Kain said, stroking Onyx's back. "Yennefer will get Geralt there, and you and I will have to follow. If you're rested, that is."
"Tretogor?" Ciri reached for Kelpie's muzzle to pet her, but the horse conveniently took a step back before Ciri could reach her. "What's in Tretogor?"
He smiled subtly, "Someone to talk to. You'll see."
That was ominous.
Ciri watched Kain for a long moment, trying to decide whether or not he was being serious or toying with her.
Her conclusion was uncertain.
"Can you take us with the horses or just us?" Kain asked. "It's not a particularly big city, so either will do."
"I can take the horses." Ciri lifted her chin proudly, looking from her own mount to Kain and Geralt's. "But if we don't need them..."
She hesitated a moment, then offered her hand up to Kain. "I can't take you unless I've a hold on you."
He took her hand, struck by the altered sensation. She was the same Ciri, and yet she was as distant as back on Skellige when they'd just met.
He didn't like it one bit.
Even holding Kain's hand made Ciri's heart thrash wildly. She was grateful he wouldn't be able to tell. She'd already made enough of a fool of herself.
She squeezed his hand tightly as if to reassure herself she would not lose him, then closed her eyes and zeroed in on her bond with Geralt. She would need it for navigation.
As always when traveling by following someone else's essence, her power did not bring them straight to her target. But it was better than before. Ciri could see Geralt down the other end of the street. They wouldn't have to walk far.
Geralt watched Yennefer go with a mixture of irritation and sadness he didn't enjoy. From the corner of his eye, he caught two familiar figures approaching.
"Welcome to Tretogor," he said, smiling at Ciri. "Home to the Coppertown and the famous Grand Tretorian races. We need to find the inn, though. Shouldn't be much trouble."
It wasn't much trouble at all - everyone knew where The Golden Rooster was. Even more people tried to point them toward The Black Lily, but Geralt didn't need such help.
"What are we doing here?" Ciri murmured under her breath. "Who are you looking to speak to?"
"Someone who might know about the Crones," Geralt said and jerked his chin toward the Rooster door.
"I'll be a moment," Kain said and went in.
"The Crones are dead." Ciri crossed her arms over her chest, frowning. "You truly think their death urged creatures to attack those villages?"
"Their power controlled the bog and its creatures to some extent," the Witcher said. "We need to make sure there is nothing left to manipulate them. More people will die otherwise."
"Perhaps we should not have left their huts standing," Ciri mused. "Perhaps we should have destroyed everything that belonged to them. It is sure to be soaked in their wickedness."
"I don't think it's their hut that's at fault," the Witcher responded. "Their chapel was destroyed and thoroughly burned. The other hut was their orphanage." He pondered for a bit. "Maybe we can burn it, too. Just to cleanse the place."
Kain emerged a moment later. "They're staying here, indeed," he said. "They've been down for breakfast and he's going to leave for the market soon."
Before Geralt could respond, the door opened and the man in question stepped out. His beard got thicker with more gray in it, and his girth got thinner. All in all, the Bloody Baron of Velen was still a significant figure, tall and broad-shouldered.
"Witcher?" he inquired, squinting as though he didn't believe his eyes. "And you, girl? I see you found each other! Finally. About damn time."
Ciri's mouth fell open in surprise at the sight of the man before her. He was the last person she'd expected to see again.
"Baron!" she exclaimed, a soft smile making her lips curve. "What are you doing here, so far from home?"
It was concerning, really. The self-proclaimed Baron of Velen had several soldiers and servants under his rule back at Crow's Perch. To leave that all behind, even for a few days, informed Ciri something was terribly wrong.
"Your witcher didn't tell you?" Baron asked. "It's my wife. I had to take her to a hermit healer in the Blue Mountains. We spent so many days there I lost count. All cold and snow and storms and hails. A whole lot of shit for nothing. And then - about a week or more..." He trailed off, his eyes glistened with welling tears. "She called my name," he uttered in an emotional, cracked voice. "I saw her eyes sharpen, recognize me! She spoke and she remembered. It was a miracle! And let me tell ye it had no shit to do with that sodding healer. Whatever it was that brought her back - I don't need to know, but I'm the happiest I've been! Hell, even if she didn't fully forgive me..."
"I spoke to Tamara," Geralt said. "She told me you were coming back with a stop here. What now?"
"Now Anna needs a beautiful and peaceful place to stay," the Baron said. "I'm buying a small vinery in Toussaint, and my girls are moving there. We're here to buy horses and things for the road."
The death of the Crones.
Ciri smiled, daring a look at Geralt. Surely he had to feel it, too. They had done something good.
The destruction of the Crones hadn't just been for their own sake, but for the world's.
A heroic deed.
"Toussaint is indeed beautiful," Ciri said, "And more peaceful than the rest of the duchies." At least on the surface. Probably due to all those honorable knights.
"Aye, it is," the Baron nodded, wiping at his eyes.
"What are you going to do?" Geralt asked. "Move with them?"
"I only hope, Witcher, I can only hope they find it in them to forgive and accept me." He sighed. "For now, I see them to the vinery, make sure they're settled, and then return to Crow's Perch to get my things in order."
"Can we speak to your wife?" Geralt asked. "The Crones perished, and we want to make sure of it."
The Baron's eyes went wide. "They perished? So that's why... How? Did you do it, Witcher?" He laughed, grabbing Geralt by the shoulders. "That's the best news in my entire sodding life, I swear! If you need anything at all-"
"I wasn't alone, Ciri fought them with me," Geralt said.
"By the gods, girl!" the Baron boomed, pulling Ciri into a bear hug. "You saved Anna! You saved her! Not some damned hermit, sod his arse."
"Can we see her?" Geralt repeated. "For a little while."
The Baron sobered, letting Ciri go. "Aye, but for a little. She's still a bit timid of the world, my Anna. As if afraid the curse will return. It will be a grand relief for her to know it won't."
They followed the Baron back inside the inn and up the stairs to the room where he and Anna resided.
The first thing that struck Ciri was how pretty the Baron's wife looked. From the brief description Geralt had given her in the past, Anna had been grey-haired and old with sagging skin. It had looked as though something had sucked the life and joy from her face.
If she had been entangled with the Crones, it was no wonder.
But now, courtesy of Geralt, Ciri, and Yennefer, Anna's appearance actually matched her age.
She was seated on a wooden chair close to the window that was partially obstructed by heavy curtains. She'd been peering out through a small sliver of clear space when Ciri and the others entered.
Anna squinted at them uncertainly, wringing her hands in her lap, her eyes drifting from her husband to Geralt.
"You," she murmured, making it clear she remembered the witcher.
Ciri didn't know if that was good or bad.
"Yes, Lady Anna," the Witcher bowed. "It is me. This is Ciri, my daughter I've found thanks to your help, and my brother witcher who works with me now."
Her eyes, sparkly and sharp, surveyed the two he introduced, she allowed a small smile and a faint nod of acknowledgment. "I'm glad to see I've helped at least someone," she said, her face saddened. "My children... They weren't mine, but... they were the only happy moment I had there."
"They're all right," the Witcher said. She looked up at him with hope so bright it was like a smile. "People in the village took them in."
"Oh! It's so good of them! Philip," she turned to her husband who stepped yo her with great care in his every gesture, ready to do anything she would ask for. "We have to help them, give them some coin..."
"Of course, my dearest," he assured. "I shall do so. I swear."
"Good," she nodded, content, and returned her eyes to Geralt. "I thank you for the news, I'm delighted."
"There is something else I need to ask of you," Geralt said.
"Oh... Of course, if I can help..."
"It might be hard for you," he warned. The Baron tensed slightly, Geralt noticed. "Tell me of your miraculous healing. What did you feel, and how did your curse end?"
Her eyes turned shifty, the old fear swept through them. "I... I'm not sure I can help... It's all like in a fog... It was a horrifying time, I couldn't tell the visions and fears apart, could not tell which was real. It all seemed so real, and so awful! They tortured me with visions of my children dying, of my little baby choking on her blood and... and..."
She wiped at her eyes, ruling down her emotions. The Baron stood gloomy as a rainy day in a cemetery.
"Many horrible things they showed me over and over," she continued in a constricted voice. "But then... I have no idea what happened, but everything suddenly lifted. I was surfacing from deep darkness and then I saw the sun, the day... and Philip. I felt light, so light I haven't felt in ages." She shrugged and dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief her husband gave her. "I don't know what else I can say."
"May I ask for your hands, Lady?" Kain stepped forth. "Was it where they branded you? My brother told me."
"Yes... yes, it was, but nothing there now," she held her palms up to him. He touched her hands gently, studying her palms and wrists.
"No seals, no binding magic," he said, letting go. "It's gone. You're free of it, Lady. Free of your debt to them, for the Crones are gone. So is your bloody promise to them."
Her face crumpled as tears welled up, but there was hopeful joy in her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered, and wept. Her husband held her, and she let him.
"We bid you farewell, Lady and Lord Baron," Geralt said. "We wish you a safe journey and a happy life."
"Thank you, Witcher, and you, girl," said the Baron, for his wife could not speak. "Bless ye all. Mayhaps we'll see each other again sometime. If you need anything, don't hesitate to find me."
"Thank you," Geralt bowed, and led his companions out of the room.
"A lovely ending to a tragic story," Ciri mused once they were outside. "But what was the point of all this, Geralt?"
"To make sure the Crones and all their magic is gone," he said as they strolled through the street. "Had any part of them survived, the curse would hold. It was meant to stay for as long as the cause of it drew from it. She's changed - which means their power feeds on her no longer."
"Now we have to find what else replaced them in the bog," Kain added.
"And for that, I assume we want our mounts?" Ciri asked. That meant another stop in Novigrad before they could go to Velen.
"Indeed," the Witcher said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Unless you wish to take a stroll to Coppertown and marvel at the dwarven craftsmanship."
She shot him a dubious look. "Is that something you would enjoy? Who are you and what have you done to my Geralt?"
She held her hand out for Kain like before.
The Witcher made himself smile. "It never hurts to offer a young lady some entertainment when possible," he said as Kain took her hand.
"Very much depends on the entertainment offered," she muttered, transporting them back to the Rosemary and Thyme stable as soon as her fingers had wrapped around Kain's.
Three hours later, the trio walked into the Crossroads Inn for a snack and a possible piece of information. Geralt lingered at the counter, talking to the innkeeper, while Ciri and Kain went to take a table in the far corner.
Ciri removed her gloves and threw them down on the table, taking a seat.
She'd been feeling increasingly tired during their ride, but the moment they'd crossed the border to Velen her spirits had lifted again. No logical explanation as to why other than that her mind knew a break was soon coming.
"You slept with Griffin last night?" she asked Kain in a quiet voice.
The question had been gnawing at her ever since that morning.
Kain sat back in his chair, stretching his legs under the table with a sigh. "Yes," he replied. "Why?"
"I thought you took the room after I left. But Avallac'h told me differently this morning." She shrugged, trying not to come off as too obvious. "I was simply curious."
He regarded her with a hint of irony. "You thought I went to her bed. Why asking if you don't believe any word I say?"
Because I wish you had become a better liar.
"Some sort of feeble hope, I suppose. That you would miraculously give me an answer that would take away the pain."
"I already told you the truth," he said with calm resignation. "There is no other woman. But you choose to call it lies. I can't do anything about it."
Ciri crossed her arms across her chest, an act of defense, a vain attempt at trying to block herself from the onset of pesky emotions. It didn't work. The pain was still there. The humiliation.
"And yet you kiss her. You let her touch you." Whenever Ciri had tried to do the same, he had pulled away. Wasn't that telling enough? "You have a history together. She is... You trust her. She brings you comfort."
Ciri knew that much and even voicing the words aloud made her want to cry.
The men at the table nearest to them were snickering, enjoying 'the show' as though it was a dramatic play performed on stage. Ciri tried to ignore them. They were insignificant drunkards.
"She is my friend and brings me comfort," he confirmed. Whatever was askew with Ciri, he didn't feel the need to bend the facts. "Griffin brings me comfort just the same. Like Avallac'h does for you. Or Yennefer, Dandelion, and all the people who care about you. Is it wrong to have someone who knows you from way back to draw comfort from?"
"No," Ciri said. "But I don't have the same physical contact with Yennefer and Avallac'h as you do Fealinn. We don't kiss, we don't..."
Fealinn had explained to Ciri how her treatments worked with men. She assumed it was no different with Kain.
She swallowed the words and lowered her gaze to the table, more vulnerable than she liked to be. Especially with an audience watching.
"Would things be different if you were not Geralt's brother?"
Getalt had joked about Kain being Ciri's uncle and she hadn't taken it so seriously back then. But now the thought had struck her more than once.
What if Kain saw her as Geralt's daughter more than anything else?
Her hurt was getting to him, making his heart ache. He kept his face in check and shook his head once subtly. "No, my being his brother has nothing to do with it."
The fault lay with Ciri then. It was a hard truth to face, but one she was forced to.
She averted her gaze, fearful she would shed tears like she almost had during their last confrontation. She wouldn't be able to stand it. Especially once Geralt returned to ask what had happened.
Oh Gods, the humiliation would kill her.
"Oy, oy," one of the drunken men on the other table called, slamming his tankard down so hard some of his ale spilled. "Ye don't want the wench, we'll take 'er!"
His friends shushed him through fits of quiet laughter, one of them wrestled him back into his chair.
Ciri set her jaw, the pain that consumed her slowly giving way to anger.
Kain turned to fix the drunkard with a stare. He looked calm, and his voice was quiet but it reached them all with no problem as if spoken into each ear personally: "You don't want to touch that wench and find out how painfully fire can scorch."
The group sobered up, their smiles slipped off their faces like caked dirt falling off. They exchanged bewildered glances, except for the drunkard whose eyes were locked on Kain's.
"You want to leave now and stay away all day," Kain added, his eyes flicking from one to another.
"Fuck this," the drunkard said, yanking his arms from his friends' hold, getting up to his unsteady feet. He staggered for the door, and his friends followed, grumbling something about sodding witchers and their jinx.
"That was magic?" Ciri asked once the men were out of sight. "You making them leave. It was magic?"
He shrugged. "Maybe. I never tried to dissect what it is - it just is. Magic, or the power of conviction. A useful skill for a spy. Saves a lot of trouble. They were drunk and their wills offered no resistance."
Yet Ciri didn't know of anyone else who could do that so effortlessly, without making a witcher sign or casting a spell.
"Elder Blood," she murmured. "It's because you are special. We are special. It makes sense that we would find each other."
He didn't think he'd have ever found her, had she not stumbled upon him, but said nothing. It was one of the things he preferred not to dissect - destiny or fate, predestination, or the whole concept of Elder Blood.
"It's not a shot that never misses, Ciri," he said. "There are individuals it doesn't work on. Sorceresses, some Aen Seidhe, maybe even witchers. Special or not, I don't always win."
"You may lose battles, but never the war," she mused. "We have a power inside us others can't even begin to imagine. It's why we're still standing."
She absentmindedly touched a hand to the scar running along her cheek. "Against all odds, we're still standing."
"So is Geralt," Kain murmured. "So is Yennefer. Zoltan, Triss, Dandelion. Special power is not the ultimate guarantee of anything, Ciri. I would've died regardless of it, had you and Geralt not gotten there in time. I'd be dead now."
"But we did get there in time. Because I felt you," she said, her eyes alight with the memory of it. "Because we're the same. I think we are destined to be together." She leaned back in her chair, regarding him calmly. "You just can't see it yet."
"We are together," Kain said. "You and Geralt are my family. Maybe that was destined. Being mates cannot be destined - it's a choice."
Ciri shook her head. "You don't see it yet," she repeated. "You don't see what I do. But you will. In time."
If it came to it, Ciri would make him. If he only got a taste... A taste of how good they could have it, he would change his mind. He would want her.
Her determination was worrying, but it was natural for a hurt heart to seek a way to cope. He sighed and made no response.
"There's nothing precise in what he tells me," Geralt said, settling at their table. "There was a blind woman with sight in either Benek or Toderas - he doesn't know for certain."
"The boatmaker told me she lived in Drudge as far as he heard," Kain said.
"It's two separate ends," the Witcher sighed, and considered them. "We might need to part to save time."
"Then we part," Ciri agreed. "The bitch can't hide forever."
Ciri hadn't liked Thecla when they last met and she doubted it would be different this time around. The old woman had made her feel uneasy. And no wonder, she worshipped the Crones, after all.
"I can ask people in Drudge," Kain said. "In Oreton they also mentioned a crone from Drudge that helped women. No one recalled whether she was blind."
"All right," said Geralt. "I'll take the east and those two villages."
"I'll go with you," Ciri told Kain.
It wasn't just that she wanted to spend time with him, to try and change his mind. The memory of him disappearing into The Crone's trap was still fresh in mind, frightening her more than she liked. She didn't want him to be alone.
The Witcher observed them with mild curiosity and turned his attention to the meal a maid brought. She was setting down the plates with baked chicken and potatoes, bowls of pickled tomatoes, and a pitcher of mead, smiling bewitchingly at Geralt and Kain.
Kain didn't object, so Ciri felt a little easier.
Until the serving wench eyed him like he was a particular juicy steak she couldn't wait to devour. Ciri briefly contemplated making use of the cutlery the maid had brought her moments earlier. In fact, she imagined how lovely her knife would look sticking out of the maid's ample chest.
But she managed to rule down her temper and instead reached for Kain's hand across the table, drawing his attention. "You don't mind me coming with, do you?"
The maid's smile faded ever so slightly as she hurried away to tend to other customers.
A shiver ran down his back at her touch he couldn't quite decipher. "I don't," he said.
"It's me and Roach, then," Geralt said, faking a sad sigh as he cut into the chicken.
Ciri snorted with mirth at Geralt's comment, withdrawing her hand. "Oh, please, you would marry that horse if you could."
"There have been too many to marry," he retorted.
"The current one suits you well."
Ciri pulled her plate towards herself so she could start eating.
"So, if and when we find Thecla, what is the plan? What do we do if she does not want to talk?"
"We'll have to decide it when we're there," the Witcher said.
"And if we," she gestured to Kain and herself, "find her before you do?"
"Wait for me, I'll join you."
Ciri ate in silence for a while, outwardly concentrating on her food while her thoughts were miles away. When she resurfaced, a new question had come to mind.
"Are you sure it is safe for you to go to those villages alone?" she asked Geralt. "The people there favored The Crones, did they not? Won't they be furious by their demise?"
"Those two villages are far enough from the bog," he said. "Besides, I'm not going to inform them of it."
"What of the bog and the remaining hut?" Kain asked. "Are we burning it or not?"
The Witcher looked uncertain. "Do we need to?"
"Couldn't hurt." Ciri shrugged, taking a sip from her cup. "We can make absolutely certain none of their artifacts remain behind."
"Then it's the first thing we will do," Kain said. "Burn the hut and sweep the perimeter for any more invasions of the Hunt."
"All right," Geralt said. "Do that. And I shall go to those two villages in the east, see what they know."
"It's a plan," Ciri said, pleased they were finally getting back to the matter at hand – The Crones. And by association, The Hunt.
She watched Geralt and Kain eat, having already finished her own meal. And she grew impatient, letting them know by her occasional judgmental stares.
Geralt gave her a mock stern stare, chewing. "I'm old, I need more time for pleasures still left in my life, good food being one of them."
It had been the same way back at Kaer Morhen. The witchers always took too long with their meals when they could have been teaching her something exciting.
Whenever they caught Ciri complaining, however, Lambert would always send her outside to do the most boring of grunt-work. So she'd learned to keep quiet.
Most of the time.
"You're lucky we're not in Toussaint," the Witcher remarked, sneering, cutting another piece of chicken breast under a crust of pepper and garlic. "Their feasting tables are extremely difficult to get away from."
"As well as beds, they say," murmured Kain, amused.
Geralt chuckled, "Dandelion would tell many tales on that."
"Oh, I'm sure I could manage," Ciri said with an air of confidence. "Well, if I embraced my royal title at least. No one would dare stand in my way if I wanted to leave dinner early then." She gave Geralt a sly smile. "Except you, of course."
Geralt peered at her with cunning eyes. "I wouldn't be at court to discipline you, little princess."
"No? You'd be the only one who could do so without losing his head."
The Witcher shook his head, biting into a potato. "Harsh." He glanced at Kain, "Has Fringilla convinced you to visit Toussaint?"
"Not right away, no. And I'm sure she aimed that more at you than me."
Geralt clicked his tongue. "With sorceresses, there's nothing certain when it comes to their flirting and invitations."
"Unless you sense more than they voice," said Kain, sipping mead.
Ciri scowled. "What is it with sorceresses and witchers? Are you the only ones able to satisfy their needs?"
Geralt shrugged his shoulders briefly, forking another potato to dip it in grease collected on the bottom of the plate. "We're a disappearing kind, and many are curious whether all those insane rumors people think out are true. Mostly, mages want what they want, driven by their own fantasies."
"You slept with her," Ciri remarked, sipping her drink. "Fringilla, I mean. I saw you."
Geralt's eyes flicked to her and lingered for a long moment as he tried to perceive how it could have been possible. "How did you see it?"
Ciri was not exactly certain how the visions had come to be, but she knew them to be true.
"I saw many things when I entered Tor Zireael. You and Fringilla were one of them. Of course, I did not know who she was at the time."
The Witcher nodded; it explained a lot. As well as her blood and inclination toward visions.
"She was very enchanting, as well as the whole atmosphere," he said. "At some point, I saw no sense in resistance."
"And now?" Ciri asked, curious. "Does she invoke the same emotions?"
Geralt drank his mead fill and reached for the pitcher to pour himself more. "She hasn't changed, nor has her attitude," he said. "The sight of her does bring warm memories."
Ciri didn't like that in the least, but she tried not to let it show.
"It's a shame the sight of Yennefer no longer brings the same feeling."
"I wouldn't state such thing," the Witcher argued, wiping the oil with a half of a potato. "We've been good with each other. At least until she tries to enforce things I don't remember the same way she does."
"She merely gets impatient," Kain said quietly, finishing his meal. "It's hard to rule down one's jealousy."
"Nothing I do seems enough to put her at ease," Geralt said. "Sometimes she behaves like it was my choice to forget rather than her games with a djinn. She's expecting me to be the man she knows, but I don't even know what it was like. She tells me things I don't recall and wants me to remember, but I can't, and it frustrates us both. It's hard."
"It would be less harsh on her if her fellow sorceresses weren't competing for your attention at all times." Ciri regarded Geralt. "You still have your fondest memories of Triss and Fringilla. But not the ones of Yen. That gives them the advantage and probably makes her feel scared for her place in your heart."
She dared a glance at Kain.
"It's hard to be vulnerable. Tell someone you love them and... know they don't feel the same."
Kain lowered his gaze to stare at his plate, wiping at the oil with a slice of potato.
"Let's be fair," Geralt said, looking up at Ciri. "As far as I gathered, she doubted our love, did she not? That is why the whole story with the djinn happened - because she was ready to dismiss it if by some chance it turned out to be a spell product. And now it's all suddenly my fault when I can't confirm what she wants me to."
"I'm not blaming you in the slightest. Nor, as far as I know, does Yennefer. I do, however, feel irked by certain other women swooping in like vultures because they sense the bond you once shared with Yennefer is weakened."
Ciri met Geralt's gaze.
"Perhaps I am biased because I see Yennefer as a mother. Or because when we were all apart, I imagined returning to the two of you. Together. A mother, father, and child." She shrugged, a little uncomfortable. "But the fantasies of youth are often shattered. Whether you and Yennefer end up together or apart, it won't change my love for either of you. You are my family. And I am never letting you go again."
"Regardless of what happens, Ciri, you won't lose either of us," Geralt said. "Nor are we going to lose you. That shall not happen ever again. Whatever is the cost."
Kain toyed with his cup, deep in thought, the remaining mead sloshing inside it.
Ciri smiled, comforted by Geralt's reassurances. It was nice to know he would fight as hard for her as she would for him.
"Shall we get to work then?"
Geralt sighed, finished his mead, and looked between his companions. Kain nodded and got up.
Roach wasn't thrilled to continue their journey, but the Witcher wasn't up for tolerating disobedience and hit her with an Axii that guaranteed a peaceful stretch of the road.
They rode together for a while and parted in the vicinity of Lurtch. Geralt rode on toward Toderas, and Kain with Ciri took south toward the bog.
They rode side by side, silence stretching between them as well as the accompanied awkwardness. At least in Ciri's mind. Kain's face was still annoyingly hard to read.
They were close to entering the bog when Ciri finally spoke.
"Had you heard of The Crones before you met us? Were there tales of them where you come from?"
They trotted along the narrow road hiding amidst the thickening grass, and the evening fog began to get denser around the horses' hooves.
"Of course I've heard of the three guardians of the bog people worshipped," he said. "I never had to deal with it, nor visit the bog itself."
"I don't think I was ever told of them," Ciri admitted. "I can't remember."
But it was fascinating to know how renowned the old hags had been.
"I wonder what they were like when they were young. Our age. Surely they would have had to been at some point. I wonder if they had parents? Or if the earth itself birthed them."
"Legend has it there was one Lady of the Wood at first. She came from far away and settled here. She made three daughters out of dirt and water. She became the guardian of the land.
"Yet as the years passed, the Lady of the Wood slipped deeper and deeper into madness. Her madness eventually spread over the land - men took to abandoning their homes and setting out into the bog, where they became food for beasts. Before long, Velen was drowning in blood.
"The daughters saw their land nearing destruction and decided to save it. When spring came once more, and with it the night sacrifices, they killed their mother and buried her in the bog. Her spirit was trapped in the roots of an old tree where it could no longer harm anyone."
"Descent into madness...because of her power, you think?"
"Hard to say where the urge to protect turns into the drive to destroy," Kain mused.