Silver

Mousesack was chuckling as he led Geralt through the castle. "She absolutely insisted that you come. I told her it was nothing to worry about, but she thinks you're the only one who can solve this problem."

"It's quite alright," Geralt said. "You know I don't mind."

They entered the banquet hall. Eist was sitting on the floor, teaching a small ashen-haired girl how to play with a set of knucklebones. When they heard the doors loudly creak open, the little girl perked up.

"Geralt," she shouted excitedly, running full speed to the other end of the room.

Without having to think about it, Geralt knelt down and caught her in his arms. She collided against his chest, and he grunted slightly at the impact. This was a normal greeting for them every time they reunited, and he still couldn't stop the small smile on his face each and every time.

The first few years of Ciri's life passed by a lot quicker than Geralt would've ever known. He soon came to understand that children grow both remarkably fast and slow at the exact same time. Ciri was a couple summers old now, and was even starting to lose some of her baby teeth.

She leaned back a little to smile widely at him. "You came!"

"Of course I did," he said simply. "Why wouldn't I?" He finally let her go to stand up.

She pouted and pointed at Eist. Her tone was comically critical. "Grandfather said we didn't need you."

"For this," Eist clarified with slight amusement. "There's nothing wrong, and all we did was interrupt his traveling."

"You didn't interrupt anything," Geralt said gently to Ciri. "Now, what is the problem?"

Ciri seized the witcher's hand, and he patiently let her pull him out of the room. While Ciri was strong for such a small child, she wasn't that strong, but he indulged her all the same. Mousesack was chuckling again, this time at Ciri's antics.

Once out in the hall, Ciri stopped, and looked around quickly, her eyes darting everywhere. Geralt's brows furrowed in concern. Giving her hand a slight squeeze, he asked, "Ciri, what's wrong?"

She looked at him. "There's a…a…" Her face scrunched up as she struggled to find the words. "a…ghost thingy."

He tilted his head. "You mean a wraith?"

She nodded.

Over the years, Ciri inevitably grew curious about Geralt's other job. At first, he kept their talks about monsters short, not wanting to frighten her, or encourage her. He didn't want her to even think about growing up to be a monster slayer. He could protect her from any danger that would foolishly try to have a go at her. His near constant presence in her life was intimidating enough to most, anyway.

However, Ciri was notoriously nosy and brazen, and already showing signs of being a troublemaker. Also, she often bombarded the royal tutors with questions regarding all things outside her kingdom's walls. Geralt eventually came to the realization that Ciri would only continue to grow, to explore the world, and that it only made sense to at least teach her himself. Who better to answer all of her more obscure questions than someone who's actually been all over the continent.

Mousesack was shaking his head warningly. "The Queen is going to have an aneurism if you've been teaching her about monsters."

Without looking at him, Geralt said, "Does the Queen want her to grow up uneducated? Why do you think there's a wraith, Ciri?"

"I heard it," Ciri insisted. "I swear I heard it! Nobody believes me."

"Well, I'm not just anybody. What did you hear?"

She made spastic motions with her hands, as if it that would add to the description. "I heard groaning, and chains rattling. Ghosts make those kinda noises, yeah?"

He nodded. "They can, sometimes. Lead the way."

Ciri sprinted clumsily down the hall, with the two adults following close behind.

"I've used magic to check this castle from top to bottom," Mousesack whispered. "There is nothing here. Not even an angry spirit. Do you believe her?"

"I believe she hears something," Geralt answered. "It doesn't feel like a wraith, and my medallion is calm, but she heard something nonetheless. And I take that seriously."

Mousesack sighed, but nodded in understanding.

The three of them came to a halt at the top of some steps, leading down into a cellar of sorts. Wordlessly, Ciri pointed downwards.

Mousesack sounded a little distraught. "That…You didn't mention that's where you heard it specifically."

She scowled slightly, a look almost identical to a certain witcher's. "You didn't ask." Her brows were furrowed with worry as she stared up at Geralt. "Is it a wraith?"

"I won't know until I see."

Geralt peered down the stairs, keeping an ear out. True enough, he heard the sound of chains swaying. As for the groaning noise, it almost sounded like hinges against a draft. Truthfully, he couldn't remember ever going down there. He didn't sense danger, but he still needed to investigate, if only to put Ciri's mind at ease.

"Stay with Mousesack," he told her.

"I'll go with you," Mousesack offered before Geralt could descend. "Go back with Eist, Ciri. We'll take care of it."

Ciri looked at Geralt, and he nodded. "Do as he says."

She flexed her jaw, as if debating on arguing, before scampering down the hallway. Geralt waited until he heard the banquet hall doors close, signaling that Ciri had done as they asked.

"Let's go," Geralt said.

"There's no need to go down there," Mousesack explained with a slight frown. "It's just another dungeon. And it isn't even occupied right now. She doesn't know about it because there's a door stopping her from going further."

Geralt hummed. "That's what I thought it sounded like. And I also thought I knew every inch of this place. So, not a wraith, but Ciri's got a good ear."

He smirked a little. "She's one of the most observant people I've ever met. Wonder who she gets that from."

Geralt rolled his eyes. Then, a thought came to mind, and he pointed down the stairs. "Why keep this from her? This is her home."

"Certain areas are restricted to Ciri. You know as well as I do that her curiosity knows no bounds. She got into the armory the one time. Toppled a shelf of daggers right on top of herself. They were just for display, but I still don't know how she didn't get sliced up."

Geralt felt anger tightening in his throat. "And no one was watching her? I can't leave this damned shack for five minutes without something happening to her?"

Mousesack was calm. "Mischief is in her nature. Something she inherited from Pavetta. She managed to sneak past all of us that day. The Queen gave her an earful. So please don't scold the daylights out of the girl."

His glare grew harsher. "Ciri's not at fault. If anyone needs an earful it's this whole bloody castle." He paused. "Surely Calanthe will teach her sword fighting at some point. At the very least how to respect a weapon."

"Yes," Mousesack nodded. "She did so with Pavetta, and Ciri will likely be no different."

"If it is different," he said. "If she even so much as hesitates, call for me, and I will teach the girl."

"You," he asked with a snort. "Mr. Overprotective?"

"I don't like it," Geralt said. "I don't even want her so much as looking at a knife. But she cannot be sheltered forever. She'll find trouble someday, or it will find her. I'd much rather she'd be prepared than wait to be rescued." As they began their walk back to the banquet hall, Geralt added, "And I'm reasonably protective."

Mousesack outright laughed at that. "You never leave her side when you're with her. And when you have to, you always stand guard nearby."

"How else am I supposed to keep her safe," he asked.

He just shook his head. "You know. You don't have to be her protector all the time."

"What else am I good for?"

Mousesack looked at him seriously, with no trace of his previous jesting. "Answer that question yourself."

Geralt's only reply was a noncommittal grunt.

They walked by Pavetta at some point, who was discussing tasks with a few of the servants. She stopped briefly to dip her head in greeting at Geralt. He returned the gesture as they went past.

"I've been meaning to ask," Geralt said to Mousesack. "You once said you were going to help Pavetta with her magic. How is that coming along?"

Mousesack smiled tightly. "That is a question you'll have to ask her directly. She's very secretive about it, and while I trust you, I won't break that confidence."

Geralt flexed his jaw, almost tensely. "And what about Ciri. Have you…seen any magic from her?"

He shook his head. "No. Not even an inkling. But Pavetta's magic is also difficult for me to detect, so that's not saying much. If Ciri does possess chaos, then it possibly won't show until she's older."

Geralt nodded. "The moment it does, if it does, I want to know straight away. Pavetta's magic…I've never seen anything like it. If Ciri inherited it, I want to be there for her."

Mousesack nodded once. "That goes without saying."

They opened the doors to the banquet hall. Ciri was sitting on top of one of the tables, chin resting on her knuckles as she stared at the wall. Geralt grinned amusedly, because she had the most adorably serious expression on her face. As soon as they came back, Ciri all but leapt off the table.

"Did you find the ghost," she asked eagerly.

Mousesack walked to the other side of the room to speak with Eist, leaving Ciri and Geralt alone.

"There was no ghost," Geralt explained as he once again knelt down in front of her. "Just an empty room."

"But I thought it was one," she grumbled. "What was it?"

"Just some rusty chains and hinges. Nothing more."

She scowled harshly, and Geralt realized she was actually berating herself. "Sorry, Geralt," she muttered.

"You don't need to apologize," he said with a slight frown. "You had a hunch, and you followed it. You asked for me, and I came running. It's what I'm supposed to do." She still looked rather dejected, and Geralt never could stand to see her in such low spirits. He grinned a little. "Stop sulking," he said, poking her in the ribs.

She jumped backed with a startled squeal, a grin instantly appearing on her face. He poked her again.

"Stop," she exclaimed, batting his hand away. "That tickles."

He did as she asked, but couldn't stop chuckling under his breath.

"Alright," Eist said with a smile, coming over to pick Ciri up into his arms. "Enough with the monsters. It's time for some reading lessons." He looked at Geralt. "We'll need you this time next week, for a couple days. Ciri and her parents will be doing a bit of traveling in the countryside."

Geralt nodded and stood up.

Ciri was pouting, because she knew Geralt was going to leave in a few minutes to go back to his witcher duties.

"I'll be here next week," Geralt assured her. "Don't worry."

Duny wasn't around much. Calanthe often had him attending meetings of importance all around the kingdom. This didn't allow for much time to have an opinion on Geralt being his daughter's protector. Although, Geralt gathered he was never completely thrilled about it.

On a short journey through the countryside to meet up with some noblemen, Duny was given the rare opportunity to join his wife and child, and the witcher. The affair was without event, just discussing any recent events in the kingdom and how the other royals were faring. Now, they were on their way back to Cintra.

As they trekked, Roach eyed the other horses with disdain, not enjoying having to share the road with them. She paid the carriage horses no mind, but the ones with individual riders she kept leaning in to nip at.

"Mind your manners," Geralt scolded her in a bored tone, though he couldn't help the wry grin. "You know better."

Roach nickered, as if sensing his lack of seriousness. However, her ears did relax upon hearing Ciri's voice from within the carriage. The little girl poked her head out the window.

"Get back inside, Ciri," Geralt instructed calmly.

She sighed loudly. "But it's boring in here."

"Yes," Duny agreed. "But it's safer."

Ciri scowled. And then she asked Geralt, "Can I ride with you on Roach?"

Duny gave her a reproachful look. "What did I just say?"

"Actually," Geralt mused. "It makes no difference. Her being with me or inside the carriage. Plus, it might get Roach to behave." He moved back a little so that Ciri would have room.

"How so," Duny asked, eyeing Roach cautiously. "I've never seen a more irritable mare in all my years."

Geralt was almost grinning, and he gave Roach's neck a fond pat. "She's not irritable. She's introverted."

Given that the carriage was moving slow enough, Ciri was already out the door and jumping down onto the road. Geralt slowed to a complete stop. He reached down towards her. When both of her hands were in his, he effortlessly hauled her up onto Roach. She settled in front of him and gripped the saddle horn. Ordinarily, any saddle he'd fit his horse with wouldn't include a horn, but Ciri loved Roach, and she needed something to hold on to.

Roach was the type of horse to begrudgingly accept children. Never completely fond of them, but would also never harm them. However, over the years, she grew very fond of Ciri.

Roach's ears relaxed, and she put her sights on the road instead of the other horses.

Duny's eyes widened slightly. "Well I'll be damned," he muttered, just low enough that Ciri wouldn't hear the expletive. He was about to make some sort of joke about it when he noticed that Geralt had suddenly grown tense.

The witcher was staring straight ahead, eyes narrowed and nostrils flared. Ciri tried to glance back at him, having also picked up on the sudden change in his demeanor.

"Do you want me to get off," she asked concernedly.

"No," he muttered. "It's nothing to do with you."

Duny kept glancing between the witcher and the road, not understanding what he was supposedly seeing. "Then, what is it," he asked.

Geralt inhaled deeply. "There's blood in the air." Ciri's response was to lean back further against his chest, her brows furrowed with worry. The guards they were traveling with heard him say this. "Everyone, stay alert," Geralt said.

They rounded the next bend, and sure enough, blood was the first thing they saw. It was smeared across the road like a paintbrush stroke, extending away from a broken cart.

Geralt halted Roach, and he instructed the guards and carriage to hold back a moment. They did as he said, without any argument, especially if it was monster related. Geralt was hoping it was only the work of some bandits, of which normally left carnage like this behind on these particular roads. He jumped down from Roach, and he noticed Ciri's knuckles turn white around the saddle horn.

"I'll only be a moment," he told her. "Try not to look at it." Although she'd obviously already seen what was up ahead, he still felt like it was the thing to say.

He took his steel sword with him, and walked up the road. The closer he got to the wreckage, the more dread he felt. The cart was destroyed, but its goods were untouched. The owner of the cart looked like a merchant, and his body and guts were strewn next to the cart. His belly was torn open by something razor sharp, and his horse had suffered the same fate. They'd both been gnawed on. All around him, claw marks were stamped heavily into the dirt.

On the wind, Geralt's acute hearing picked up on the beating of wings.

He swiveled in the direction of the sound –

One of the guards had strayed away from the carriage to investigate a collapsed tree in the ditch. At that moment, a wyvern broke through the trees, snagged the guard directly out of his saddle and flew overhead.

Geralt took a running leap, hoping to slash the beast's belly. But its agile wings helped it to soar ever so slightly higher, just out of reach of the sword. It moved in an arc through the air, until it dipped to fly down into a nearby valley.

Geralt swore loudly, sheathed his sword, and went to rejoin the others with swift strides.

Duny was struggling to keep his horse from panicking. "Was that a bloody dragon?!"

"I ain't fighting a dragon," the remaining guard said, with the carriage driver shaking his head vehemently. "No offense, Your Highness," he added to Pavetta, who stuck her head out of the window and was looking more distraught with every passing second.

"It was a wyvern," Geralt grunted. He flanked Roach in order to get his silver sword. He also wanted to rifle through a saddlebag, until he found the appropriate blade oil.

"W-What did it want?"

Geralt snapped his gaze to Ciri, who fearfully asked this question. She was staring in the direction the guard had been carried off to.

Not wanting to lie to her, he said, "To feed." He placed his hand gently over hers, and he kept it there until he felt her fingers relax over the horn. Though she was doing her best to hide it, she looked down at him with scared eyes. "I'll take care of it," he said with conviction. "I need you to stay here."

"What the devil are we sticking around here for," the guard demanded. "That thing could come back!"

"Exactly," Geralt glanced back at him. "This season is lean for them, and it's hungry. I've been around Cintra's horses long enough to know they aren't swift enough to outpace it. It'll pick us all off before we even get close to the kingdom. There's no point in running. I'll track it down and kill it, and we can be on our way."

Pavetta beckoned to Ciri. "Come inside, darling."

"No," Geralt shook his head. "It'll make quick work of the carriage. And as opposed to your horses, Roach can outrun a wyvern." He looked at Ciri. "If it comes back, give her a nudge. She'll know what to do. Hold the reins and horn, just like I showed you."

She nodded once, and gripped the reins and horn in either hand.

Putting his attention on Roach, he stroked her face. She nudged herself against his hand, as if nodding. Satisfied with their silent conversation, he gave one last look to Ciri before walking away.

Before he got very far, Duny was off his horse racing after him. "I'm coming with you, witcher."

Geralt raised a brow at him. "Unless you have any silver on you…"

Duny gripped the hilt of his own sword. "What do you take me for? I've been all over the kingdom's territory and beyond. Monsters everywhere. These days, it's better to carry silver rather than steel most of the time."

Geralt nodded once, mildly impressed. But still. "You ought to stay with your family."

"And do what," he asked sharply. "Wonder what's taking you so long? Wonder if that thing has killed you so it can come back and devour the rest of us? I'm helping you kill it, if it'll ensure my wife and child live another day. Two swords are better than one, don't you think?"

Geralt stared at Duny, but couldn't argue. "Don't slow me down."

They entered into the woods.

Duny kept his eyes to the ground, following a thin trail of blood, probably left by the guard. The tiny droplets were just barely visible in the dirt. Geralt was ahead of him, his strides much quicker and more confident.

"Don't know how you're not struggling to see the blood," Duny commented. "I know your eyes are sharp, but even then."

"I'm not following the blood."

Duny followed Geralt's gaze upward. Some of the treetops had been beaten down or broken, having been struck by pwerful wings.

"Damned thing doesn't know how to fly right," Duny muttered.

"It's malnourished," Geralt explained. "It can only fly so high right now. But that it only makes it more dangerous. Don't get complacent."

Duny nodded. "Least we know it won't be flying back to the road too soon."

Geralt also nodded. "It's bought us some time."

He exhaled. "I almost doubted you."

Geralt raised a brow at him.

"I know you can keep my family safe. But I'm hardly around to see you work. So I never know the extent of it."

Geralt shrugged. "Most people doubt that a witcher can do his job, until they see proof. Let's take care of this, and get you all home."

Duny's jaw was clenched, and what he said next was not something Geralt expected. "Ciri adores you, by the way. She often asks about you when you're not around. And she enjoys the monster stories you've shared with her." He glanced at the witcher, but his eyes were narrowed as if this conversation truly burdened him. "And I know you adore her, as well."

Geralt didn't know how to respond. But before he even could, the blood trail suddenly became more apparent. He shook his head, regaining his focus so he could work on eliminating their current threat. They sped up their pace.

They made their way down into the valley, a sizable meadow. Not the typical territory of a wyvern, but the remainder of the blood trail led them here. Almost at its center was a mutilated body. But no wyvern around.

And when Geralt crouched down to study the guard's body, he saw that there was no indication that the guard had been fed on.

"I thought you said it was hungry," Duny remarked nervously.

"It is," Geralt responded, equally confused.

Duny paled. "…Do you think it went back to the road for more?"

At that chilling thought, Geralt instantly straightened up. Before they could even think about backtracking, the wyvern leapt out of the sky and landed in their path. Geralt had hoped to take it by surprise while it fed, but this one was smart.

The guard was just bait, in order to lure more food in.

Geralt unsheathed his sword and readied his stance. On unsteady legs, Duny copied him.

The wyvern dove at them, claws extended. They rolled out of the way. With the creature's back to them, Geralt took a stab at it. The wyvern shrieked as the silver and oil stung its flesh. It swung its head around to take a bite out of the witcher, but Duny slashed widely, cutting its eye. It roared, enraged.

As they alternated between dodging and slashing, the wyvern was becoming weaker and weaker, and also more erratic out of desperation. It already came into this fight starving, but now it was in pain, making it more dangerous by the second.

At some point, Geralt felt something. It was a nudge at the back of his head, like someone was watching them from a distance. It was a familiar presence, and he felt his chest tighten, like air had been sucked from his lungs. Worry filled him, almost making him stumble. He knew who it was.

The wyvern suddenly stopped tossing its head wildly. With its remaining eye, it stared intently at something in the undergrowth, just behind Geralt.

Growling loudly, Geralt threw his hand forward and cast Igni. Flames engulfed the wyvern's head. It did little damage, as expected, but it did put its attention back on Geralt. Which was what the witcher needed.

It lunged forward, jaws open wide enough to easily bite him in half.

Geralt stabbed straight upward.

The silver went through the upper jaw, piercing the brain. Geralt released his sword and quickly rolled out of the way as the wyvern's body plummeted to the ground.

Duny sheathed his blade and almost doubled over in relief, not used to such quick and fierce fighting. He didn't want to admit it, but he had underestimated this beast. He'd never taken on one before.

Geralt was standing tall, only mildly exhausted, but nothing a little food and meditation couldn't fix. He removed his sword from the wyvern's skull and sheathed it. He quickly checked himself over. Normally, he couldn't have given a damn about his appearance, especially after a fight, but he wanted to make sure he at least wasn't soaked in wyvern blood. Thankfully, the stains were minimal.

He then walked towards the edge of the meadow. Stopping at the tree line, he sighed heavily. "You can come out, Ciri."

After a moment, Ciri peered sheepishly around a tree trunk.

As soon as Duny saw her, he stormed over to them. "Have you lost your mind, Cirilla? Whatever were you thinking?!"

"I-I wasn't-"

"That's right, you weren't thinking! Had that beast seen you – killed you-"

"Hang on, Duny."

He glared harshly at Geralt. "...I beg your pardon?!"

Geralt sighed again. "Just, hang on." He knelt down to be at eye level with Ciri. She was staring at the ground, at her feet, anywhere but at them. Her mouth was pressed in a thin line, and her brows were once again furrowed.

There was fear in her eyes. Fear of the wyvern, or afraid of them, it was hard to say. Geralt's heart clenched painfully. He couldn't stand the thought of her fearing him.

He cleared his throat. "Why did you follow us?"

She only shrugged, and her brows came together even further.

His heart now twisted. "Ciri, look at me," he coaxed, doing his best to keep the desperation out of his voice. He managed to make himself sound clear and gentle at the same time.

She looked at him then, her eyes meeting his.

"Why did you follow us," he repeated.

She shrugged again. "Never seen a wyvern. I wanted to see it again."

He frowned, but nodded to at least acknowledge that he understood her reasoning. "Are you alright," he asked.

At this question, Duny for some reason started pacing. Geralt didn't look away from Ciri, though he was tempted to glare at the other man until he stopped.

Ciri nodded. "I'm okay."

Geralt sighed again, allowing some of that relief to further calm himself. "Do you have any silver on you?"

She shook her head.

"Do you know how to kill wyverns?"

She shook her head again.

"Well, I do," he said patiently. "It's my job to protect you from these things. It nearly saw you. I needed you to stay with Roach."

She nodded, her eyes watery. "I'm sorry."

He tilted his head to maintain her gaze. Up until this point, he'd been trying to keep his expression neutral. But now, his features significantly softened. "You're safe," he murmured. "That's all that matters. Let's get you back to your mother."

Ciri swiped at her face to get rid of her tears, and she trotted ahead of them through the woods.

As they walked back up towards the road, Duny was shaking his head. "How the fuck are you not mad at her," he hissed at Geralt, just low enough so Ciri wouldn't hear. "She disobeyed you."

"It's difficult to explain," Geralt muttered.

"Enlighten me."

"She might do this again-"

"She will if she isn't scolded properly!"

"Scolding will make no difference," Geralt snarled, a clear warning in his voice. A warning directed solely at Duny. "My mentor knows a bit about children. And he's said that they rarely do as their told. Yelling does nothing. So I simply talked to her." He paused. "And I'm not mad at her. I'm mad at what she did."

Duny's harsh frown never left his face. "Is there a difference?"

Geralt's jaw clenched, but he didn't grant that ridiculous question with an answer. It wasn't worth it with how worked up Duny was. Instinctually, Geralt made sure to place himself between Ciri and Duny as they walked.

At some point, they stepped over another body. Specifically, another one of the guards. It looked like this one had been running. Geralt would later learn that his particular guard had raced after Ciri, and had fallen victim to the wyvern just before it descended on Geralt and Duny.

Once back on the road, they saw that Pavetta was being held back by the carriage driver. A sob broke from her throat when her eyes landed on her daughter. The driver released her. She ran forward until she could gather Ciri in her arms.

"Never ever run off like that again," she sobbed against her. "Please! If anything happened to you!"

"Nothing did," Ciri whined, but hugged her back all the same. "Geralt killed the wyvern."

Pavetta slowly released her, and looked at Geralt with nothing but gratitude. "Thank you. Thank you so much. I'm so sorry she did this."

Geralt merely shrugged. "Let's get going. It'll be dark soon."

Ciri went over to Roach. "Can I ride with you again?"

He nodded, picked her up, and put her in the saddle. Putting his foot in a stirrup, he got on behind her.

Pavetta and Duny made eye contact. A strange silent conversation happened between the two, filled with glares, frowns, and some more fallen tears. It ended with Duny growling under his breath and going back to his horse. Pavetta wiped the tears away from her blurry eyes.

Geralt looked at her, waiting for her orders. When she nodded and got back into the carriage, they set off again.

They were about an hour away from Cintra when Ciri asked, "What's the difference between a wyvern and a forktail? They look the same."

"From a certain angle," Geralt conceded. "And you generally kill them the same way. But it's the tail you're looking for. The forktail's is longer, and it almost always strikes true."

Ciri glanced back at him. "Are they actually dragons?"

"Types of dragons, in a way."

"Do they breathe fire?"

"Some."

"How fast are they? They look really fast."

Duny was listening to this exchange with slight horror, morbid fascination, and admittedly a lot of annoyance. Witchers weren't known for divulging information about monsters. That was mostly thanks to the public wanting to remain ignorant of such things. Witchers also weren't known for their patience. So how the hell was Geralt able to put up with all of her questions?

Ciri's eyes widened in wonder. "Have you ever been lit on fire?"

Geralt grinned slightly. "I never give one the chance to do that."

"Perhaps…" Duny eventually said. "…we ought to talk about something else."

"What's the matter," Geralt asked. "Haven't the stomach for such a topic? You even fought one today."

"Not at all," he said quickly. "It's just, well…I find that this is an inappropriate subject for a young princess."

Geralt scoffed. "She's tougher than she looks. And I think you'll find that I don't give a rat's-"

"Young ears present," came Pavetta's voice from inside the carriage. Though her words were loud and firm, and of course a little tired from today's event, she couldn't keep the amusement out of her voice.

Which prompted Geralt to finish. "…rat's arse about your opinions."

Duny's ears tinged red. Not out of anger, but out of embarrassment from his wife and daughter's laughter. Geralt nudged his arm in good humor, but Duny shoved him back, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

For the rest of the way back to Cintra, nothing else perilous happened. Ciri leaned back against him, even dozing off and on. It was peaceful now. The birds singing, the summer breeze flitting through the trees, the lack of talking. Geralt needed moments like these. His quiet nature practically demanded it.

And his child surprise was safe and sound, resting securely against him. All was calm for the moment. He should've been savoring it.

After this, he wouldn't see Ciri for an entire month.