The sensation of ice cubes on his cheeks and neck has woken Geralt up from his blissful sleep. He shifted vehemently, brushing what turned out to be hands of terrified Yennefer and instinctively got himself up to sitting position.
"Yen, what's going on?" he blurted dimly, looking in her violet eyes which reflected fear and the light of fireplace.
The sorceress sat down on the bed as well, glanced at her exposed curves and wrapped the thick duvet around herself. The activity was absolutely unnecessary and amused the witcher, but he didn't say a word. He knew too well that any comment like this would not be appreciated.
"I think there is someone beside us in the castle," she whispered quietly, as if the intruder somehow knew where they were and waited for their next move. The chances of such turn of events while existing were slim, almost neglectable. Besides they were expecting guests after all. This Geralt didn't dare to mention too. Only a fool would dare to reason with Yennefer's logic.
Without a word, he rose from the bed and begun to look for his garments.
"What you think you're doing?" Yennefer metallic voice rung in the air.
Geralt picked up his shirt from the ground and pulled it through his head. "I'll go and check. You'll stay here, alright?" he explained, leant in and left a soft kiss to her forehead. To his surprise, she didn't protest.
Geralt hadn't believed in the story with trespassers even for a moment and maybe that was why his first choice was the castle's kitchen. After all, what better place had the castle to offer for a weary traveller?
He didn't even have to enter the room to know he caught the intruders red handed. The dim light coming from the chamber betrayed their presence perfectly. So did the sounds of pots and glass jars rearranged in hurry.
He entered the room like a shadow. The man with two swords pegged down to his back didn't even notice he wasn't alone anymore. He was way too busy with his beaker and scouring through the larder. Geralt couldn't help but feel a gentle pang of his heart when he spotted the trays with his favourite honey cakes, empty.
"Curious what Keira will do when she finds out you came back to night gluttony," he mumbled at last, conspicuously crossing his arms. "If she doesn't, Yennefer will enlighten you surely on the value of sharing." He really wished she would. And that she would conjure another tray of honey cakes.
The other witcher sighed, put the tray with duck pies aside and turned on his heels. "Maybe she won't," he offered with a mischievous smile on his lips.
"Maybe she won't," replied Geralt, giving the other man a bear hug.
"So, she broke the engagement and left to Vengerberg?" gurgled Lambert, finishing up another pint of spiced cider.
Geralt took a glance at the scum of white foam hanging from the other's man upper lips, shook his head and took a sound gulp himself. "She didn't. Still hundred percent positive to do it," he replied very sadly. Now as he finally had a chance to say it aloud, the story seemed to be even more depressing.
"This is why I'll never propose to Keira. The sorceresses are nuts."
"Some of them aren't," Geralt cut him off like an older, more experienced sibling corrects their younger one. In the same time, Lambert was right. Yennefer while sweet and charming when she wanted to be, often chose to show to the world her other side. Unfortunately, he was still the world. "Let's not talk about it. She can come here any minute," he added, taking another sip.
"Not talk about what?" he heard a familiar voice call in the distance and in spirit thanked his stars for having mercy on him once again. The situation was daunting enough without an open fight. He even started to suspect this Yule might have been their first and the last at the same time. The ceasefire while likely only temporary solution, somehow gave him peace.
"About Lambert's terrible habits," he replied and made Yennefer a place by the table.
The enchantress shot him with a harsh stare. Still it was far more than she offered Lambert. At him she didn't even peek.
"Frankly, I couldn't care less," she snarled, correcting the black sleep robe which highlighted nicely her thin waist and shapely legs. Geralt noticed with puppyish excitement she hadn't worn anything beneath it. "I see you in bed. In twenty minutes," she directed then, specifically to him.
Geralt nodded obediently.
"Apparently, greetings are passé these days. Thought she would ease off a little," whispered Lambert, when Yennefer's silhouette disappeared from the sight. "She had a reason before. The business will Triss and everything. But you made it up to her. More than paid back actually. Whatever she's playing in with you now is a pure ill will. If she didn't cancel the wedding yet, steal her thunder. Show the witch her place."
Geralt was silent, took another gulp from his chalice and looked around the room.
"I'd better be going," he choked up after a long moment, weighting each word and biting his tongue.
Lambert nodded and picked his chalice too. "But you're helping me with the tree tomorrow, right?" he offered, pointing at the lonely topiary standing in the corner. Surprisingly, Geralt didn't notice it until now.
He agreed silently, rose from his seat and headed to the exit, not turning around nor peering even once. He had to try hard. He fought with himself not to come back and blurt out what he really thought or how he felt, or that he had no slightest interest in listening to Lambert's backbite or anyone else's. That it was Yennefer's side he would always choose. That he would always choose her. That it was always only Yennefer and whoever didn't like that idea could take it and shove it. He wanted to do it so much, but didn't say a word.
Instead, he left the kitchen. He slipped into his and Yennefer's bedroom and laid down beside her in the bed, without a word, casually.
"I wasn't expecting you to show up at all. Not when I saw him, " she blurted not long after, turning over and taking a good glance at him, likely assessing how much he had drunk. Yennefer hated seeing him drunk. She absolutely loathed it.
"April 18th," she whispered after a brief pause. Geralt didn't reply straight away. He wanted to check what else she had to offer, about what did she was thinking. His instincts didn't let him down. "Not the worst day for a wedding, don't you think?"
"No, Yen. It's quite a good date," he replied.
"Can we get married on April 18th?"
"I think we can," he said.
Yennefer clung to him almost instantly, wrapped her limbs around his frame like tentacles. He held her in his arms until she fell back to sleep, listened to her sweet confessions and requited them, thought about April. And about every other month they would spend together. And somehow, totally unaware when, he forgot completely about everything that happened in the kitchen.
Thank you for reading. The next chapters will emerge hopefully. Not in the nearest future however.