It was long after midnight but Yennefer could not sleep, an unsettling feeling kept her awake. She rose from the bed and sat on the bench by the window.

"Damn you witcher. Where the hell are you?" she mumbled staring at the black and white night. The street was empty and covered with snow that kept falling softly.

She was terribly worried about Geralt, who had been gone the whole day. He had been employed by Vengerberg's alderman to perform a series of witcher contracts to free the region from a bunch of monsters varying in sizes, difficulties and even status of existence. Nothing too dangerous, he had said until last night, when the alderman had come himself to tell the witcher about rumors of a werewolf that roamed in the forests on the outskirts of the town. Yennefer was not worried at first, she had heard about the deeds of the famous White Wolf, the strongest witcher anyone had seen, even before she had met him. She knew better than giving ears to the folk's stories, however, she had seen him fight so she did not doubt his skills were at their fame's level.

She had barely seen Geralt the last days. A few weeks ago king Demavend had summoned her to take part on his council, it was not the first time he had done so and but this time Yennefer could not refuse. Tissaia had made clear on her letter that the Chapter expected her to comply. Yennefer had nothing against politics or spying. She quite enjoyed discussing it and making strategies, however Demavend stupidity and stubbornness got easily on her nerves. Recently the information had come to him from his spies that king Henselt from Kaedwen had planned on expanding his borders over Aerdin, so during the last days Yennefer was trapped on long meetings that often ended late at night. No matter how late she arrived home, Geralt was always there.

Except tonight.

Nothing moved on the dark street but the slow snowflakes falling softly. Yennefer sighed trying to make the unsettling feeling go away. It was not rare that he came home hurt, a scratch here or a bite there. Frequently he only acknowledged that he was injured because Yennefer always insisted on examine him every time.

"He is going to get killed and he won't even noticed thanks to those damn elixirs." Yennefer complained aloud to herself, wrapping herself with a thick fur blanket. The night was cold as winter had arrived with full strength.

"He surely can take care of himself," she sighed biting her thumb nail. "He is a grown man and an experienced witcher. He can take care of himself. He is probably with the alderman, drinking part of his reward. He will come back home soon, and I'm going to prepare a warm bath for us, he will make love to me and I'll fall asleep listening to his heartbeat."

She could not convince herself.

Yennefer pulled the blanket tighter around herself and leaned against the window. She was almost asleep when a dark figure stumbled across the street. The sorceress jumped as she recognized him. She could recognize him anywhere.

However, she noticed something was not right. Geralt usually walked light but surely, with long and fast steps, while the dark cloaked figure struggled, limping across the street. She noticed that the dark figure was leaving a dark trail behind. He was badly hurt.

Yennefer ran downstairs as fast as she could, feeling her heart on her throat. She opened the front door and ran outside. Only after sliding on the snow covered sidewalk she noticed she had no shoes one. She did not care.

She did not care either that she lost the fur blanket somewhere on the way and that the cold air bitted her through the thin silk camisole she was wearing. The only thing that matter was that Geralt was badly hurt and he needed her help. She reached for him feeling her own pulse on her ears. Geralt's face was covered with blood.

"Yen…" He whisper so weakly she barely heard.

"Hush, come inside," she said with a shaky voice putting his arm around her. "Just a little bit more, come on."

"Yen…"

Yennefer supported his weight as better as she could and they barely made it inside.

"Dammit, I'm not a healer," mumbled the sorceress while checking his wounds. There was a nasty wound on his shoulder, a bite for sure. He had a cut on his eyebrow that bled profusely. His leg was also hurt. "Where did you get so hurt? Damn witcher, I was so worried, and with reason."

- "Yen… my…" She heard him breathe with difficulty, "my potions, give me the green bottle…"

At least a broken rib, she thought. His pulse was slower than normal as he had lost a great amount of blood. He was also terrible cold

"Hush, darling," She undid the belt that crossed his chest and held his swords, it was heavier than it looked. She moved her hands carefully over his wounds and murmured a healing spell.

On her long life, Yennefer never had to cure such wounds, she also knew that witchers reacted differently to magic, she was not sure her healing spells would work on him, however, she had managed to stop the bleeding. She had to take him to the bedroom. He was cold and he needed to rest.

"I know you hate portals but there is no other way, I'm sorry," she whispered and casted a portal to take them upstairs. Geralt winced but did not complain, which was a first, Yennefer thought, she would have to tease him about that later.

If he does not die.

Full of fear, Yennefer pushed that thought aside and helped him lay on the bed. She noticed the wound on his shoulder began to bleed again.

"The spell to numb the pain won't last long," she whisper after cleaning and carefully bandaging his wounds. She had depleted her strengths and any other effort to conjure a spell would make her pass out. "Against my own advice, I'll have to give you one of your elixirs."

Geralt did not answer.

The enchantress bitted her lip worried. The effects of the elixirs he had probably drank before were running out, she had seen before how weaken he got once their influence faded away.

"These damn potions," she mumbled as she curiously rummaged on the small wooden box where Geralt kept his elixirs. Luckily, there was only one green bottle, she felt relieved, he was not in condition to be more specific.

"Here, love," she whispered helping him drink the elixir, his eyes were closed and his breath was shallow, "rest now."

"Yen…"

Yennefer put down the book she was reading, sat next to him on the edge of the bed. He had called her name several times during his feverish sleep. Pleased, the sorceress noticed his temperature was pretty much normal now, she also examined his injuries, they were still swollen but he was recovering incredibly fast.

"Mhmm… how long did I sleep?" Geralt asked weakly. He winced when he tried to sit down.

"Almost two days," answered Yennefer handing him a cup of water. "How are you feeling?"

"Very sore."

"Understandable. You also lost a great amount of blood… Honestly, a regular man would have not survived…" She said while rubbing carefully an herbal ointment on the gash on his thigh. "What happened?"

"What apparently was a single werewolf, ended up being three."

"A pack? I thought werewolves preferred solitude."

"It is very unusual, even more so close to a big town. They were very young."

"Did you kill them?" Yennefer observed him carefully.

"Yeah, I did. That was what I was paid for and they were dangerous."

Yennefer did not say anything. She could not understand how he could risk his life like that, and she knew that he probably did not even question it. He was programmed not to. But, she feared for him, she worried about his life. The last couple of months that they had been together, she had grown very attached to Geralt. Even more after she decided that she was going to let go and not think too much about how she felt about him and how the Djinn's spell affected those feelings. The enchantress felt angry that he did not seem to care that he might have died. Not even for her sake.

"I'm going to ask Gretta to make you something to eat," she said coldly. She wanted to be alone. "Rest."

"Lady Yennefer? The king has addressed to you." Said the short rat-like man known as Erik Van Eend, the head of the spies of king Demavend. Yennefer scolded herself mentally for allowing her thoughts to drift away. Once again, she found herself thinking about Geralt, worrying about his foolish recklessness. She quickly recomposed herself and scanned the spy's brain looking for the question she had missed.

"Forgive me, but I do not agree, your Majesty," she bowed respectfully and looked into the king's blue eyes and held his gaze. "The commerce routes should not be stop, but protected. It is vital for the economy that our trade wagons reach our trade boats on the Pontar. Is not that the reason why we are moving our troops to the north?"

King Demawend looked at her silently for a while.

"I desire to speak with you alone, Lady Yennefer. Everyone else, out." the king ordered in a stern tone, to which everyone rose and left the hall immediately. Yennefer played with her necklace, observing the king.

"Usually, people just agree with me to please me. They think I'm a fool and I do not noticed. They, Van Eend for instance, think I do not realize they lick my shoes while in my presence and conspire against me when they think they are alone. But not you Yennefer. That is why I need you in my council. I know I can trust you and with your help we are going to scatter the menace from that deceitful neighbor king."

"Yes, we will, your Majesty."

"And for that, I need your full attention, Yennefer. Your full attention."

The sorceress blood boiled with anger, she did not like being talk like that, however she just smiled and bowed her head politely.

"Have you lost your mind, Geralt?" Yennefer angrily said as she paced around the room. When she arrived home after the meeting with king Demawend, she was already in a bad mood; she encounter the witchter packing his belongings, which worsened her day. He had received a letter asking his help to kill a griffin.

"You have lost your mind! A couple weeks ago, you were so badly injured I thought you were going to die. You are not fully recovered, you can't travel!"

"I'm alright now, Yen."

"There are other witchers. Others that can kill that creature. You have to recover."

"You do not understand…"

"Yes I do!" the sorceress shouted frustrated. "You do not care one bit about your own life!"

Geralt looked at her surprised. "Yen, you do not understand. The griffin is hunting near the Melitele temple in Ellander. It is killing people. Nenneke has always helped me since I can remember, she asked for my aid and I am going."

"Ellander is almost a week ride, we are in the middle of the winter and there is a war bursting in the north border, near the Pontar. It is too dangerous and you are not fully recovered…"

"Yen, I'm fine," Geralt growled impatiently. "I'm a witcher, that's what I do!"

"Fine! Leave! If you do not care about yourself, why should I?" Yennefer yelled angry. "If you die, do not think I'll mourn you, you fool reckless witcher!"

Geralt looked at her for a moment, it seemed that he wanted to say something but changed his mind and without a word, he left.

The enchantress growled frustrated, her heart ached. "How could he be so selfish?"

She looked down to the street covered with snow. She saw him ride away. He had really left.

Yennefer could not hold the tears back anymore. She realized that all this months she had been so preoccupied questioning what she felt about him, she never thought for a moment about how he felt. She loved him, but she never stop to think that maybe he did not feel the same.