Ciri woke the next morning feeling poorly, worse than she had the night before. The tower had blanketed her in safety while she was inside, pausing her bodily functions somehow and making normal things such as hunger and sleepiness disappear. Now it had caught up with her again. Her head ached and throbbed from dehydration and her stomach cramped painfully from lack of food. She hadn't eaten much the night before either and hadn't truly recognized hunger until just now. That made climbing out of bed despite the earliness of the day seem far more tempting than it normally would.

She groaned as she pushed her bed linens aside and stepped onto the floor, pouring herself a cup of water from the pitcher on her bedstand. Sadly, the tray of yesterday's food had vanished sometime during the night. As had the water in her tub. The servants must have worked quietly as mice while Ciri slept. Though it was not unheard of at court to have people tend to you even in your sleep, Ciri felt a prick of discomfort at the thought of someone having been in her room while she was unconscious. In any other setting, she would have gone so far as to confront whoever the person might have been. But right now it did not seem to matter much.

There was still Yennefer to consider. Ciri wondered if she might convince Kain to join her for the next visit. Perhaps he could offer a neutral view of the situation and tell Ciri whether her suspicions about Yennefer's mood were warranted or not.

She pulled on the rope that would alert Jagna that Ciri was up and in need of the girl's help. She wouldn't have bothered the maid if not for the fact Ciri's clothes had disappeared as well, and she was reluctant to wander the castle in her skimpy nightwear.

While she waited for someone to come, she pulled the curtains aside and opened one of the windows overlooking a garden. Right outside was the most beautiful apple tree Ciri had ever seen. Perhaps her perception was a tad influenced by her current hunger but surely no one could deny that those fat red apples would make anyone's mouth water with desire.

She hoisted herself onto the windowsill and reached for the nearest apple, leaning haphazardly over the ledge until somehow both her arms and legs had wrapped around a thick branch, much like one of the exercises Lambert would sometimes challenge her with as a child in Kaer Morhen. Hooked on with both legs, Ciri released her arms and swung until she captured the most tempting fruit, grinning victoriously with her treasure clutched close as a high-pitched cry sounded from inside her room.

"Your Highness!" Jagna stood at the window, eyes wide in horror. "Did you fall? Oh my goodness, reach for me, Your Highness! I will help you!"

Ciri should have felt guilty for frightening the poor maid so but found only amusement. No one had been harmed, after all. "It's alright, Jagna," she assured and swung herself back in through the window, holding her apple between her teeth.

Jagna simply stared for a while, trying to decide whether to let this strange act of acrobatics go or if she should inquire further. In the end, it seemed she had no choice but to do the latter.

"Gods! Your Highness! Are you hurt?" With one hand on Ciri's arm, she turned the princess around to eye her backside, alarmed until sudden realization set in. "Oh. I see. Not to worry, Your Highness."

Confused, Ciri removed the apple from her mouth and craned her neck to see what Jagna had noticed. When she couldn't, she bent forward and quickly straightened again. "Oh." Her pristine white undergarments had been stained with crimson during the night. That also explained the incessant cramps. Her moon blood had come. Lovely.

"I'm sorry," Ciri muttered, casting a glance at her bedsheets. They were sure to be stained, too.

But Jagna did not look perturbed in the least. "Nothing to apologize for, Your Highness. I will prepare another bath for you and fetch everything you need."

Within the next twenty minutes, the young maid – accompanied by a couple of others girls – had filled the tub with warm water, brought Ciri's freshly laundered clothes, and the necessities to handle her blood discreetly. It was quite different from what Ciri was used to. Usually, any old rag would have to do. As long as it was clean.

Here, they had sewn undergarments with pockets for holding absorbent textiles in place, making it feel as though she was hardly wearing anything at all. It was a great luxury. One Ciri could find herself getting used to.

"Have some of this tea," Jagna urged once Ciri was out of the bath and dressed, having her long hair braided by one of the maids. "Raspberry leaf. To ease your discomfort."

"Thank you," Ciri replied, truly grateful to be in the company of other women who did not need to be thoroughly informed of what she needed. They knew. Because they were the same.

"His Imperial Majesty has extended an invitation for you to share a morning meal with him," Jagna said, clearing away the soiled sheets.

Ciri sipped her tea, deliberately taking her time to answer. "Invited?" Not demanded?

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Now?"

"As soon as Your Highness is ready."

She could deny him. Technically, she could. But what would that mean for Yennefer?

"Take me to him," she said once her hair was finished, and she'd drained the last of her tea.

Jagna complied immediately, leaving the task of cleaning the bedroom to the other girls before leading Ciri down the corridor and up a set of stairs. A few more hallways were traversed before they finally arrived outside two ornate double doors. Ciri assumed they were Emhyr's private quarters.

She knocked and waited.

The doors opened, revealing the Imperial Chamberlain. He greeted Ciri with an appropriate bow and stepped out of her way, extending an arm in invitation to enter. "Please, Your Highness. Have a good morning."

Behind him was a spacious room with a huge fireplace and tapestries on the walls, most of which depicted the Great Sun of Nilfgaard. A few still displayed the Timerian lilies. An oval table with four chairs was set with various delicacies and glass pitchers with what looked like juices.

Emhyr stood before it with his arms behind his back, his eyes traveling up and down Ciri's figure. He was smiling subtly. "Greetings, my dear daughter. Please, come in. That would be all, Mererid."

"Your Majesty," Mererid bowed and removed himself from the room, closing the door behind him gently.

Emhyr set his eyes on Ciri again, his face softened with another hint of a warm smile. "I'm immensely happy to see you well and unharmed."

Ciri toyed absentmindedly with the hem of her shirt, trying to keep her facial features as neutral as possible. She hadn't come here to fight, but she did not want to pretend as though the past had been forgotten. It would be cruel to give Emhyr such false hope.

But mostly what plagued her at the present moment was a ravenous hunger that had her fearing she may heave right there and then if she did not get more food soon.

"And I you," she said eventually. "You look well."

His smile bloomed immediately, betraying a bit of relief. "Please, join me," he invited her to the table. "I've been told you haven't eaten well last night. If there is anything you specifically enjoy, you should tell me. I'll be happy to please your taste."

"Anything is fine, really." Ciri sat quickly and immediately reached for a few slices of toasted bread, unable to keep from stuffing her mouth and forgoing any ladylike manners she may have retained from her childhood in Cintra. "Um, I meant to say thank you. For taking in Yennefer," she murmured in between bites. "I was surprised. But grateful."

Emhyr nodded in acknowledgement, watching her in wonder with a surreptitious eye, pouring juice in her glass while she was too busy surveying the table like a hawk, snatching this and that to her plate eagerly. "It should not surprise you that I am ready to join forces with people close to you, for I always have your best interest at heart. Besides, Lady Yennefer has been staying with us before – we were helping her recover after her time with the Aen Elle invaders. We were far more effective in our joined search for you."

"What made you change your mind about her? And Geralt?" Ciri asked, eyeing him with cold curiosity. "There was a time you wanted them out of my life."

A subtle wince ran through Emhyr's face, but he did his best to conceal it. "I shan't deceive you, Cirilla, I still have certain personal reservations concerning their involvement in your life, mostly in the light of utter absence of such on my part. However, I do recognize your feelings for them, as well as their willingness to protect you I fully relate to. Moreover, I am willing to admit there must be certain experiences they have enriched your life with, and certain skills they have passed to you, for which I am grateful. Given the circumstances, you are making good use of such skills. Even though your royal grandmother knew her way with a sword, I doubt she was willing to pass that to you."

"Why do you think that is?" Ciri had managed to slow her eating a tad, enough to participate in the conversation. But she had a lot of questions, and finally, there was a decent occasion to ask. "Why wouldn't she want me to learn how to fight?"

"I believe it's partially my fault," he said, pricking a piece of goat cheese from one of the serving plates. "After I so thoughtlessly allowed Geralt to invoke his Law of Surprise, Queen Calanthe had been living in constant denial and apprehension of him coming to claim his right. I can't deny my own deepest regret of how it turned out, however, as you know, I've tried to solve it my way and failed miserably. Her way appeared to be quite radical. She was willing to eliminate everything that would remotely resemble The Witcher Path from your life, including swords and trousers."

Ciri's lips twitched in fond remembrance of Calanthe and her angry outbursts whenever Ciri would dress in boy's clothes. It hadn't been as funny back then, but now it was one of the things she missed about her grandmother.

"Were you in love with my mother? Is that why you wanted to marry her?" Ciri knew it would sound like an interrogation, and perhaps it was. But she wanted to know. The truth, once and for all. The good and the ugly.

Emhyr's hand stilled for a moment over the table before reaching for a slice of bread. He sighed, smearing liver paste over it with a silver knife. "I had been hiding away like a monster for two years and nearly lost hope to ever become myself again. It started like hope for salvation, but when I first saw your mother…" He trailed off, his face turning a tad dreamy. "She was like a vision of a heavenly garden after the dead desert of my misery. I feared she'd be repulsed, but when she wasn't, I couldn't help but love her more. She helped me find my will to live when I all but lost it. She made me feel more like myself again instead of a wretched monstrosity undeserving of daylight." He sipped his juice and met Ciri's eyes. "Of course, I loved your mother. She was my light. As are you. There's so much of her in you, Cirilla."

"I hardly remember her," Ciri lamented softly, brow furrowed and eyes locked on the butter dish ahead of her. "Or you. I sometimes think I should remember more. I already had some years on me before our family was fractured. And yet… you are both hazy. Like a distant dream."

She slowly recovered from her reveries, looking up to meet his gaze again. "Would you have married her if she was not an heir to the throne of Cintra?"

"I loved her for her, Cirilla," Emhyr said in a gentle tone. "I had no need for another throne, having left my own behind. I needed her love and she gave it so readily, so purely. I wanted to spend my life with her and you by my side."

"But you changed your mind." Ciri took a careful sip of her juice. "You wanted your throne back."

"It was a part of me I could not discard. I found I needed to reclaim it, as if it was reclaiming the true me. And I wanted to share my true life and my true self with you and Vetta. It became my biggest desire."

Ciri nodded and reached for some fruit, placing various slices on her plate. "It's important. To be true to yourself. I know it did not end up exactly the way you had hoped, but had you not claimed the throne I suspect you'd be miserable."

Emhyr glanced at her with something akin to gratitude in his eyes. "That curse had cut me in two. I had to bury my truth and live as a mask. I would have never been whole had I not returned for my inheritance."

"I understand," Ciri said. "I have been many people, too. Not sure how many of them are truly me."

"I know." He regarded her, his features softening with a subtle smile that held a tint of sadness. "The price I offered the Witcher so heedlessly had fractured your life in two. You have since reclaimed your witcher life. But the life you were born with keeps calling to you from where you've buried it alive. Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Princess of Cintra and Nilfgaard, daughter of Princess Pavetta and granddaughter of Queen Calanthe of Cintra - it is and always will be the original you. You have been reluctant to accept it, but without it your soul is incomplete.

"I do not intend to rush you. I have since learned how fiercely you resist it. But it is my deepest desire that one day you will feel more inclined to recover your true self."

Ciri felt her ire rise immediately but she tempered it. She didn't need to feel threatened, she reminded herself. Not yet. There was still time.

"That's who you want me to be. Doesn't mean it's who I am. You found the path that was right for you. It gravely hurt those closest to you. But you don't regret it, do you? I don't intend to make a choice I will regret, either."

She ate in silence for a while, finally starting to feel the effects of healthy nourishment.

"Though it may not even come to that. A decision, I mean. There is still The Hunt to be reckoned with. People are going to die. Your people. And mine. It does not matter that I try to pull them away to other worlds; they will always return here. Where my heart lies. You must be ready to protect the people of Nilfgaard."

"I am willing to protect you before all," he insisted, albeit trying to keep his voice calmer than he felt. "That includes those dear to you as well. And by all means, we have to protect the world we live in. I do realize the implication of the disaster their possible victory could unleash. I have already told you I don't want to rush you, even though my soul rebels against your continuous denial of your ties to me." He locked his eyes with hers, his gaze both penetrating and genuine in his need to rely his sincerity. "You should know that, even though I do not regret my decision to get my true life back, there is hardly a day when I don't lament the impact it had on our family, on your mother and you. That scar never heals in me. I don't wish it upon you, ever, Cirilla. But I do wish for you to find yourself in the way you haven't yet. All I ask for is a chance for you to learn more about what you and I share. You've extended me your promise to visit after the Hunt war. I hold this promise dear and hope we get that chance. I dare state you need it as much as I do, even though you do not see it that way today."

"If I live, I will honor my promise," Ciri stated. And she did mean it. It was not something she was looking forward to but she understood its importance. To Emhyr. She could not demand his help if she continued to reject him at every turn.

"How did you know you were fit to rule?" she asked, leaning back in her chair. "Did you ever question if you would make a good king?"

"Every ruler asks himself this question at least once in his lifetime," Emhyr mused. "But each has his own idea of what makes a good king. If you question yourself constantly, there is a good chance you're not prepared to rule. There should be a balance of inner certainty and common sense. Every decision is important and you must calculate all consequences before you reach it." He took a sip of his drink and regarded her. "Being a king means some decisions will be impossibly hard. Sending people to death is hard, but without it even more end up dead. Morvran aspires to end wars, and I learned that when you wish for peace, you should be prepared for war."

Ciri's lips quirked in a wry smile. "That's ambitious of him. Wars will never end. There may be interludes, but never a true end until all humanoid beings have been wiped from this world."

Emhyr pondered it, eyeing her with an ironic glint in his eye as he took a finishing sip of his juice. "Humans do tend to strive for power and end up at war. However, nothing remains the same. Life flows as a river. Things change, different rulers come and seek a chance to start an era of peace and prosperity rather than the devastation of wars. And who knows, perhaps Morvran could turn a new page. Perhaps, both of you can. Two people working for the same goal reach it faster."

"What makes you think I'm a peaceful person?" she challenged, more out of curiosity than to prove a point.

"I trust your heart is as pure as your mother's and as noble and brave as your grandmother's. You would wish to spare your people the horrors you have been through yourself as a child. You'd be willing to protect those who believe in you."

I am not my mother, grandmother, nor the infant you left behind, Ciri thought but didn't voice aloud. "I've heard rumors that people thought my mother meek and docile. That she did not inherit Calanthe's spirit. Is that true?"

"She was softer and more delicate, it's true," Emhyr replied, his face softening with a hint of a melancholic smile. "She had little interest in battles and more in poetry. However, she would fight like a lioness to protect what she loved. She had a power in her like yours, and she saved my life with it. Her peaceful nature was not her weakness. She followed her heart, and I loved it in her."

"I wish I could have known her," Ciri bemoaned, wondering what it would be like to have been raised by a soft woman. None of the women who had known Ciri in her childhood could have been described as soft. Triss may have come closest. "Did you wish for more children? Had you made plans?"

"I had to ensure my succession as emperor, but those plans didn't bear fruit. Aside from Morvran who has been raised under my care, that is. Truth be told, Cirilla, the strongest desire I had concerning children was to get you back. To have more time with you and perchance restore some of what has been ruined."

"Would you feel the same even if I choose not to become your official heir?" Ciri asked, pausing the cup on its way to her mouth to subtly let a stomach cramp ease before she drank.

He considered her for a moment, then said, "You're my daughter, my very own flesh and blood. I would never wish to be apart from you, no matter what you do or choose. I long for your presence every day, and I don't see that changing until the day I die."

Ciri swallowed; she hadn't expected that answer in such detail. And she wasn't certain if she was relieved or frightened. Perhaps a bit of both.

Nevertheless, it was nice to hear and it made her smile. "Thank you," she murmured. "I am very tired of being wanted because of what I can do. My power. My blood. It's nice to simply be… wanted."

Emhyr gave her a warm smile no one was accustomed to beholding on his face. "I'm your father, Cirilla. I'm not interested in your power or skills. I merely want you to be by my side because I love you. I wish to see your smile that's so much like your mother's. I miss you both."

"I… appreciate that." Ciri could not make any similar confessions. Not yet. She hardly knew the man, and truthfully, feared to create a bond with him now that there was still so much pain and loss to come. "Thank you for breakfast. It was pleasant."

He nodded, "I thank you for joining me. Feel free to ask for anything you need. If you wish to know what's being done for Geralt, Morvran shall brief you."

"I intend to," she said and stood, offering an odd little curtsy once she'd moved away from the table. "Goodbye for now."

He watched her go in silence, then sighed and poured himself some tea. He drank with his brow furrowed, deep in thought.

It took Ciri a full twenty minutes before she finally found General Voorhis's quarters, and even then after a servant showed her the way. The castle was too big and confusing for her liking. Not at all like her previous home in Cintra where she knew every corridor and every concealed room hidden behind portraits.

She knocked on the door and brazenly poked her head inside before actually receiving an answer, her cramps making her even more impatient than usual. "Hello?"

Two pairs of eyes turned her way: Morvran had a visitor. Istredd was standing before the General and they appeared to have been in the middle of a conversation. Both men eyed her curiously.

"Come in, Your Highness," Morvran invited, offering an encouraging smile. "Master Istredd was just telling me Lady Yennefer rose feeling well today."

"Did she?" Ciri asked, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. "Better than yesterday?"

"She seems to be in better spirits, Your Highness," Istredd said, smiling politely. "Asked for Master Dandelion with his lute and was humming to herself while preparing for the day."

"I'm glad." Ciri forced a reciprocating smile, searching Istredd's face for his reaction. "She was too tired for a long visit last night. I was worried."

"She was mostly exhausted by constant worry, Your Highness. Yours and Witcher's disappearance made her agitated and restless. I believe your return made her feel better. Gave her more hope, I suppose."

That hadn't been Ciri's impression. But there was no use telling Istredd or Morvran. They would not understand.

"It pleases me to hear it. I apologize for interrupting your meeting…" She gestured to both men. "But I was hoping to ask you about Geralt, General."

"I believe we are finished here for now," Morvran said.

Istredd bowed to them and excused himself, leaving them alone.

"Our troops have been dispatched to Tor Zireael as soon as Fringilla alerted us to her suspicion," Morvran informed her. "They've been searching the area constantly. We have also sent people to patrol around the other two towers, however, there have been no results, either. We are keeping in touch with Skellige and Gors Velen in case they find some trails. Our mages work restlessly on hunting for clues as well."

That was discouraging. Ciri could not deny that her hope was flickering now. "I see. That's… good." Another reminder that Ciri had no natural talents as a leader; her ability to receive and assess reports was clearly abysmal. "I appreciate the Empire's help. Your help. But I fear we will not be as lucky as we were with Yennefer." If that could even be described as luck.

"I dare suggest our luck would have been higher had we recruited any solid aid from our former elven allies whose names are certainly familiar to you." He noted her frown of discomfort and gestured for two chairs at a tea table, "Would you like to sit down? You look a bit faint. Something ails you?"

Ciri wanted to lie down in the fetal position and hug a pillow. But it seemed inappropriate, so instead, she sat down in the offered chair. "I'm fine. Just some… stomach pains. It will pass." She leaned back and crossed one leg over the other. "Have you been in contact with any of the elves?"

A furtive frown swept through his features; he settled in the chair across from hers and poured her a glass of water from the carafe sitting on the table. "Our contacts are very limited, for they resist it for understandable reasons," he explained, holding the glass out to her. "Things Nilfgaard had promised to Lady Findabair had not been delivered as she had hoped. Her people were still being oppressed and met resistance from the human population. And now we have a very dangerous, nearly boiling situation where our Aen Seidhe began to believe that Aen Elle — or, simply put, the Wild Hunt invaders — are their saviors who would deliver them from humans and grant them their rightful place in their world. Or, well, perhaps in this one — after all of us non-elves are eliminated. We have a very limited time to manage something impossible and convince them otherwise. But honestly, Cirilla, I am highly uncertain I can convince a bunch of desperate elves that their kin from another world has no care for them and it's best for us to rearrange our peace agreements and start learning to live as allies."

"I do not believe you can, either," Ciri admitted. "No offense. Nothing personal. But pretty promises mean nothing when hundreds of years of experience so easily prove them null and void. But it would be foolish not to at least try." She toyed absentmindedly with the tassels on a pillow in her cushy chair. "The Aen Elle are not bad people. Or at least, no worse than humans. But I do not believe they will ever see any other race as their equals. Even the Aen Seidhe."

"If only someone they could trust to tell the truth would deliver that information," Morvran said. "Lady Findabair's associate, the Sage Ida Emean aep Sivney could have known, I reckon. As well as the Sage you deem your ally. Whereas your friend is impossible to locate, Lady Sivney seems to be outright refusing to negotiate anything and is also playing hard to get. She has been keeping her neutrality and refusing to participate in any affairs since the Lodge fell apart. But it is my suspicion that at this time — if she is aware of what you're saying about Aen Elle's true feelings — she prefers to keep it to herself, which doesn't look good for us. Lady Findabair has never stated directly that she has taken Aen Elle's or Scoia'tael's side — or that there are any sides at all she would wish to take. She insists on her current neutrality and distrust of our efforts to negotiate new conditions. But Scoia'tael do not rest. More skirmishes blast out here and there; more die on each side. Sometimes a whole village of humans gets wiped out after they get an upper hand with some bunch of elven rebels. It does look like revenge by some forces beyond Scoia'tael's capacity, but no witnesses are left to tell the tale. If there is any frost as evidence — by the time the sight of a massacre is found, there is none to see.

"Do you have any knowledge of whether the Hunt Riders make such sorties to avenge the rebel elves here?"

"Never heard of it," Ciri said. "I know they come here to take people. Slaves. But I have never heard of them being on a mission of revenge or justice.

"The world they inhabit now once belonged to humans. But the Aen Elle slaughtered them. Kept a few as slaves. I saw the bones they left behind. As tall as hills." Ciri paused, considering. "There are no Aen Seidhe in Tir ná Lia. If The Hunt wanted, they could have brought some through, like they do the humans. They could have saved some of their kin. But they choose not to."

He leaned forward, searching her, "Are you certain of it?"

"Fairly." Ciri narrowed her eyes, suddenly feeling a little put-out. "Once I find Avallac'h, we can have him confirm or deny."

Morvran narrowed his eyes pensively and sat back, considering her with a ghost of a smile hiding in the corners of his mouth. "If I may ask you an impudent question," he began with a tentative tone. "How transparent do you feel he is with you?"

"Nothing about him is transparent," Ciri said. "He is sly and cunning and if he wants to fool me, I believe he will succeed. Most of the time. But he cares for me. I know it. I've felt it. If I ask for his help, he will give it to me. There may be a price to pay in return. But he will help."

"What price would you expect he'd demand?"

"A price I'd be reluctant to pay," Ciri admitted. "But I may not have much of a choice at this point."

Morvran smiled. "You didn't answer my question. You don't know what he might deem a worthy price to ask of you? Or you'd rather not tell?"

"I assume we will head down the path of complete compliance, submitting to his experiments, or letting him use my womb to create a child." Ciri met Morvran's gaze. "All the usual demands men have made of me since I had my first blood."

A light shadow of sympathy passed through his features. "A child he naturally intends to take as their tribute, I presume," he mused. "Yes, that seems most likely, as much as unfortunate. Now tell me, is his aid worth that much to you?"

"No, not for that particular price," Ciri confessed. "But I have bargaining chips of my own to play."

"Care to share which those are?"

She eyed him uncertainly. "Not yet."

Morvran nodded, smiling shrewdly. "My goal is not to find out all your secrets, Princess. Gods know, a veil of mystery makes ladies more attractive and they know it. But my goal is to help you in any way I can, and without a certain level of trust on your part, I might be less effective. I want you to keep that in mind when you calculate your moves."

"Does it matter to you if I am attractive?" Ciri countered, reciprocating that smile of his.

"Matter?" he perked up an eyebrow, amused. "It's an odd question. Why?"

"Curious to know if my veiled mystery and its attractiveness are why you do not wish to know all my secrets." She shrugged, suddenly enjoying herself.

Until Fringilla's words from the night before pierced her mind and filled her with awkward confusion.

There's a man who can talk a demon into eating its own tail. And he's got the Emperor's ear. It's something you might want to ponder.

She shifted subtly in her chair to lean against an armrest, tugging slightly on her shirt to casually free a naked shoulder. By accident, surely.

Morvran's eyes darted, albeit briefly, to the collar of her shirt slipping off her shoulder, and his smile widened. "I'm a very curious man, I have to admit," he said. "And I absolutely love unveiling secrets. I merely wished to convey how I would never dare to strip you of any secrets you need to keep unless you choose otherwise."

"Everyone wants to keep their secrets. It's why they're secrets." Ciri tried to casually toss her head the way Yennefer would to showcase her beautiful dark curls. Admittedly, it was a lot less effective with a braid. "I'm sure you have amassed a good amount of secrets too over the years. Perhaps I'd be more inclined to share mine if I knew yours."

"There are different kinds of secrets. Some are strategic, some are personal. I do not wish to discourage you from asking questions, though. What do you want to know?"

"Why do you want the throne?" she asked. "Is it a quest for power? Or do you truly believe you can change this realm to something better?"

His expression shifted to a mixture of surprise and amusement. "What makes you think I want the throne? My life has been decided since early on. I do as required of me for the good of the realm."

She shrugged. "You could always rebel. You may lose your titles and your current lifestyle, but surely Emhyr would not have you executed if you refused the throne?"

Morvran emitted a light hem, entertained by the suggestion. "What do you imagine would become of our world if everyone rebelled against their duties? If bakers refused to bake, hunters refused to hunt, soldiers refused to protect people, and women refused to bear children? I could always rebel. But what happens then? The Emperor loses his throne and probably life, and someone new comes to power and start more wars to suck the North dry and lay waste to everything resisting Nilfgaard. Who wins then? What happens to people you love? To the kingdom that raised you and your mother?"

"Your motivations lie with the greater good then," Ciri confirmed. "That's very noble of you. Selfless, even, if it is true."

Ciri was still struggling with that particular trait in herself. She felt it, of course. The need to protect the innocent. Those who could not protect themselves.

And yet...

"Why have you not yet married? Does Emhyr demand you marry me?"

"Emhyr's demands do not spread beyond my current tasks as his General. Marriage is not an urgent issue at the moment."

"And have you not yet found someone special? Someone, whose heart you wish to officially claim?"

Morvran gave a shrug, smiling. "I haven't been searching for that specific heart. Have you?"

"I haven't had time to search. Nor the desire. But as it turns out, I have many suitors." Ciri couldn't help but laugh at the tragedy of it all. "None who actually know me, of course."

"Such is the fate of royal heirs," Morvran said with an air of nonchalant musing, a ghost of mirth in his eye. "We either don't look until it's too late or don't get to keep those we choose."

"And yet some apparently marry for love." His eyes seemed to gleam with life, and for a moment, Ciri could not remove her gaze from his. "What fortune."

"A great gift, indeed," he said, holding her gaze. "Sometimes love comes when you're determined to build it, even if there was none before. And sometimes it passes despite having teased eternity in the beginning. Love and its workings are quite a mysterious matter, probably not meant to be calculated nor predicted by even the most brilliant minds." He was watching her with an almost hypnotic, penetrating gaze, his eyes narrowed subtly. The corners of his mouth twitched. "Which one do you believe: sudden one or growing?"

"I have heard people utter the phrase: I love them as much now as the day we met. But they should love them more. The more you know someone, the more you should love them," Ciri said, licking her lips. "Love grows. But there should be a spark. I would like a spark, from the very beginning. Something to be cared for, protected, and nourished."

"Think that initial spark can never be misleading?"

"Of course. I suppose you must learn to tell the difference between lust and… what can become something more."

"Lust is quite obvious. Infatuation, however, disguises itself with a promise of something more."

"You speak from experience?" Ciri asked.

His shoulders gave an imperceptible shrug. "We all get through that susceptible stage when we're beginning to become adults. It takes time to discern the truth."

There were stories there, to be sure, but Ciri knew it was soon to ask. Curiosity was burning within her. "Agreed. Sometimes you need time and space to fully understand the events of the past."

"Absolutely," a radiant smile bloomed on his face as though her display of wisdom delighted him. "Not extensively rich with either, are we? The world never stops to wait while we hunt for revelations."

"Have you not heard?" Ciri teased. "I am The Lady of Time and Space. Apparently, I have both at my fingertips."

He squinted with sly curiosity, "Do you slow time when you lack it and go back in time when you waste it, my lady?"

"Oh, I never waste time," she lied, making another attempt at that hair toss. "But perhaps I shall make such attempts in the future."

"I would not recommend it to anyone whose time on earth is limited. You, however, as one initiated into its secrets, can enjoy every exclusive aspect of it."

"Unless I blow myself up in the process," Ciri pointed out.

"I'd rather you didn't."

"That your way of saying you like me?"

"Do I need to actually say it for you to notice?"

"Subtlety is not my strong suit." Ciri couldn't help a grin. "I'm not marrying you."

"I haven't proposed it."

"That was my attempt at a joke." Ciri bit her lip, a tad embarrassed the jest had fallen flat. "In my defense, I have spent the past few years in solitude with an ancient elf who does not enjoy humor. Forgive me."

"Please, do not apologize for jokes. First of all, it's beneath your status, and second - those words were harmless. However, it is flattering that you have taken a moment to consider that specific perspective." He cracked a wily smile.

"Well, the Emperor brought it up at breakfast. I believe he already has my dress ready." She returned the smile, just in case her humorous attempt had failed a second time. "Speaking of Emhyr… what is his position on recruiting the Aen Seidhe as our allies?"

"Wouldn't be the first time, given the sad story of Scoia'tael and their discord with Nilfgaard. This time it would be trickier to coax them to trust us once again. And with them supporting Aen Elle we have close to no chances."

"What is he willing to do to get their support?"

"That's still being assessed."

"I should think he would need to have an offer ready before approaching them." Ciri stood, needing to move. She took to slowly strolling the room, examining the art on the walls and the books on the shelves. "Have you ever had dealings with them? The elves?"

"Happened a few times, as well as with dwarves and halflings and mages — who hold their own category heavy on the cunning side. It's all part of politics and diplomacy."

"And did they give you an impression of what it would take for them to become friendly with Nilfgaard again?" Ciri ran her fingertip down the spine of a particularly old-looking book.

"Every nonhuman wants equality and respect that would be upheld. Humans seem to always fail to extend that courtesy."

Ciri turned her head to look at him. "Yes, they do. It's not an outrageous request. I wonder if there would be a difference if our rulers were mixed races."

"The race of the rulers makes no difference for as long as people resist the union," Morvran explained. "It will keep failing until humans and nonhumans mutually accept their equality."

"Think that day will ever come? Most humans don't even consider other humans their equals."

He gave her a shrewd look. "It so happens that at this time in history, we have our last chance to reach an understanding."

She nodded solemnly. If she was unable to stop The Frost, none of this would matter at all before long. "I should go. Kain and I need to start our own search for Geralt."

Morvran nodded pensively, rising from his chair. "If you find anything, don't rush towards danger. Let us help."

"If there is time, I will," Ciri promised and started for the door. "Thank you for your time, General."

"You're as fast as lightning, Princess," Morvran said. "Find the time. It's no longer your personal war. We stand with you. Let us help." He waved his hand a farewell.

Ciri appeared in her bedroom at Dandelion's inn just before noon. The room had hardly been touched since her last night spent there, except for her belongings which had been stacked in a corner by the door. Mostly just spare clothing in a convenient leather bag to strap it to a saddle.

Also, atop the bed, which was neatly made, a sheet of parchment and a feather lay inconspicuously waiting.

Ciri paused in her mission to find Kain and picked the two up, turning the paper to examine both sides. They were blank.

Odd.

The feather was tawny brown but Ciri could not be certain to which bird it had belonged. It had to have been one quite large in size, however. She examined the feather too, lifting it to her nose for a quick sniff that provided no information whatsoever, as well as holding it up to the sunlight that streamed in the window. She did the same with the parchment shortly after, wondering if it contained some sort of hidden message. Invisible ink? Was there such a thing? Probably. The magical variety.

Curious about what may be a puzzle – and hopefully not just a waste of her time – Ciri turned the feather between her fingers like a quill, drawing the stem of it across the paper as if writing. It did nothing.

It wasn't until Ciri was about to resign and stuff both items into her pocket, that something interesting happened. As she skimmed the feather towards the bottom of the paper to roll them both up, writing began to appear. It was not a long message.

"Of course," she murmured to herself with displeasure. "Philippa." Who else would leave a feathery puzzle behind?

Cirilla, Meet me at Montecalvo as soon as possible. It is of the utmost importance. Philippa Eilhart.

It would have to wait. Whatever Philippa had to discuss, it could not be more important than finding Geralt.

Ciri tucked the note away and headed downstairs. She could already hear Zoltan, Triss, and Kain's voices before they came into view.

"... Such luck to find he hasn't moved," Triss was telling in her excited manner, cutting her slice of bread topped with a fried egg. "He's been taking such good care of her. He helped her feel better until Ciri came back. Now she certainly feels more herself."

"Aye, good thing to have old friends," Zoltan agreed, setting a kettle with tea on the table before her and exchanging a glance with Kain sitting across from her, sipping water.

Zoltan collected his empty plate and went back to the kitchen. Triss poured herself some tea and reached for Kain's hand across the table, her smile turning sympathetic.

"Are you certain you feel all right?" she asked. "A fortnight inside a tower with no food and water, no rest... It must have taken a toll on both of you. I could aid with the rest part - a thorough massage with my ointment would make a great difference."

"I would love one," Ciri said as she came down the stairs, smiling. "But I fear we must do our part to search for Geralt first."

"Ciri, darling!" Triss beamed, craning her neck to look at Ciri. Triss's hand remained in Kain's, her thumb brushing over his knuckles. "I'm so glad to see you, little sister! Of course, if you'd like my massage, I will be absolutely happy to oblige. Have you slept well?"

"Well enough," Ciri replied, her stomach twinging with deep-seated jealousy at the sight of Triss and Kain holding hands. Why did the sorceress always have to be so physical with him?

She turned to look at Kain. "I can't sit idly anymore. We need to go searching for him."

"We're going now," he nodded, and gave a brief smile to Triss, withdrawing his hand as he rose from his chair.

Triss looked between them with anxious questioning written on her face. "Ciri, darling, where do you wish to look? I want to help with anything at all I can do. We looked everywhere, my dear girl. Everywhere! Where do you trust you can find the trail?"

"The towers. Or locations that have those portals in general. He has to have come out at one of them." And I have someone of his blood, Ciri thought. Someone who can actually track him if I fail.

"We have searched every inch around those towers," Triss said, her face turning nearly pleading. "Mousesack also helped with some of his druids, and Rita helped, as well. But I will absolutely try again with you if you'll have me. More than anything I wish to find him alive."

Ciri shrugged. "If you wish. Who is guarding Yennefer, though? Is Fringilla with her?"

Surprise with a side of worry crept over Triss's face, she blinked. "Guarding Yennefer? Why? Is it about yesterday? Something happened between you two?"

Ciri's mouth opened and closed before she managed to find the right words. "No… I… She's not yet fully recovered. She should have someone close by at all times. I know Istredd is there but I imagine some things are easier to discuss with another woman."

"But, darling," Triss uttered with growing confusion and wariness, darting her eyes between Ciri and Kain as if to check whether they were having her on or hiding something, "the castle is full of servants, and, well… You see, Istredd is her very close friend from many decades ago. She wouldn't hesitate to ask him for anything."

"Alright." Ciri's confusion was growing as well; she was unsure why Triss found her train of thought so odd. "I simply wanted to make sure she's cared for while we're away."

"Ah, you know her," Triss smiled. "She wouldn't let anyone deem her weak. As soon as she was well enough to stand, she all but banished us and took care of herself. Well, aside from Istredd, of course. He's been spending most time in her company."

"We better go," Kain reminded, standing behind Ciri. "It's almost noon."

"If there is anything you find, don't try to be heroes and disappear again," Triss implored.

"Aye, lassie," Zoltan echoed from the kitchen doorway, wiping his hands on a rag. "Don't try to solve it alone or rush to fight em sodding elves. We want to help. The more of us, the fewer chances of em pricks getting one up on us."

And the bigger the chance of my loved ones getting hurt, Ciri's mind echoed as it had so many times before.

"We will be cautious," she promised, taking Kain's hand and leading him upstairs where they could teleport without an audience. "Did you find Griffin? Is he alright?"

"He is well, but worried. We never parted for that long before. Forgive me for not coming in the morning as I promised."

"It's alright. Turned out to be a busy morning, after all."

They slipped into her empty bedroom and closed the door behind them.

"Any idea of where to start?"

"Where they found Yennefer," he said. "Tor Gwalch'ca."

Ciri took both his hands in hers and focused her powers. A moment later, the cold winds of the Skellige fjords assaulted them, piercing their clothing as easily as arrows, making both immediately recoil.

They stood atop a tall cliff overlooking the ocean, the ancient tower right up ahead, looming ominously.

"Should've taken warmer clothes," he said as they began to descend the cliff on their way to the tower.

The wind lacked its piercing bite it had in winter, but it was definitely beginning to prepare for autumn. They jogged all the way across the beach and hurriedly climbed the stairs to the round hall with tall white columns and the portal arc. The sun came from behind a cloud, highlighting the arc in a white, glittering glow. It looked divinely beautiful as if a gateway to some heavenly place. Only the feeling creeping up Kain's spine was not admiration.

He tore his eyes from the luring shining and directed them to the floor as though expecting to find a trail of blood to lead them. There was nothing of the sort, of course, only the ancient marble plates with the dark veins of cracks here and there. He approached the arc and strolled around it, eyeing the floor intensely.

"It's where they said they found her," he said. "At the portal. Could it be she fainted after she was out of there?"

"Perhaps. Though Morvran said it appeared as though she had been beaten savagely. Do you truly think she could have done all of that to herself?" Ciri found it hard to believe. Yennefer's instinct of self-preservation was legendary.

"Not intentionally nor consciously," Kain said, crouching at the arc to examine the floor. "Whatever she was seeing in her dream was magically enhanced. It made the effects physical. She believed it was truly happening and thus her injuries became real." He glided a hand over the cold marble, frowning in thought. "The flashbacks we saw seemed very real. It was the Tower's magic, which probably made her visions feel real to her. But what installed those visions in her - we can't know for sure."

Ciri didn't like to think that magic could be so treacherous, but Kain knew what he was speaking of.

"Can you feel him? Geralt?" She briefly looked at her palm and its lifeline, the one that had never let her down in the past in providing guidance to Geralt's whereabouts. Now there was nothing. "He's not… You don't think he's dead?"

"No, he's not dead and I know it," Kain stated, turning his head to meet her eyes and share sincerity. "I can't explain how or why I can't find him, but he's not dead. And if he could, he'd have found us himself by now."

She nodded, a little reassured by his words. "I hate feeling so helpless. I'm not used to him being the one in trouble."

"It's not what he usually faces on the line of his work." Kain scanned the floor once more, attempting to focus. "We don't always know how to escape the unexpected." His fingers danced across the stone of the arc. It felt cold as ice. "I sense something... faint trail of Yennefer. She was here. That part of the story was true. There's something else, but vague. She wasn't alone. Someone brought her here from... somewhere."

"Someone..." Ciri parroted. "But not Geralt? Who else would have had access to the towers?"

Kain strained, closing his eyes. The energetic trail was elusive, as though deliberately hiding behind every other trail there was soaked in these stones.

Deliberate... Elusive...

"Avallac'h..." he murmured, entranced. "Caranthir... They've all been here."

He opened his eyes, a bit woozy and frustrated.

"I can't tell when and which one. These stones remember too much. I can't discern the exact moment."

"What!?" Ciri's heart was suddenly in her throat. "No… No, it couldn't have been The Hunt. Not with Yennefer. If they hadn't taken her, they would not have left her alive."

But Avallac'h? If he had been here, why would he not have alerted Ciri to Yennefer's whereabouts? Or had he tried and failed to reach her in the tower?

"I'm not saying it's them, Ciri." He straightened up and strolled for the edge, running a hand through his hair, both vexed and disappointed. "What I'm saying is this place, this tower remembers everyone who's ever been here. And because of it being one of those elven towers, time does not exist in these stones. It's like it all is happening at the same time, you understand? I can't tell who's been here with Yennefer. Our own trails are still here just the same."

Ciri was simultaneously relieved and disappointed. At least they did not have proof that the worst had happened.

"Can we use your blood to track him? I know we failed once before, but perhaps circumstances have changed?"

"It's not as easy as I'd like it to be, either," he said, gazing at the clouds passing over the sea to overcome his impatience. "If he'd be here on Skellige, I would find him. But if he's further, it won't work." He turned to give her an apologetic look. "I might have to try with the maps, like we'd been doing with Yennefer before you joined us back then."

"Alright." Ciri cast a glance around, wishing she'd spy a tuft of white hair in between the rocks. Such wishful thinking. "The tower's surroundings are being patrolled regularly. I don't suppose you and I will see anything they can't."

She chewed her bottom lip, reluctant to leave empty-handed. "Shall I take us to that library in Oxenfurt?"

"Unless you wish to speak to Ermion."

Ciri shook her head. "He's been informed of what is happening. If there are any news his side, he will surely let us know."

He nodded absentmindedly, his eyes lowered while he contemplated for a moment.

"What happened with you when we lost each other in the tower?" he asked, fixing her with a keen gaze. "Have you seen or felt anything?"

"You saw what happened to me, what I saw," Ciri replied. "The memory of Avallac'h and the other elves who escorted me to Tir ná Lia. I saw nothing else. Except that damned mist. Why?"

He shrugged, "Just making sure that there wasn't any puzzle we might have missed there while busy searching for each other. I can't shake the feeling we haven't solved all of it yet."

"Like why we lost sight of one another to begin with," Ciri agreed. "The tower must have wanted us to separate for some reason."

"I thought I saw something resembling a portal," he said. "Like a glow in the mist. And then there was nothing: no portal and no you."

"Do you think it diverted your attention intentionally?" Ciri asked. "To make our paths part?"

He shook his head slowly, "I have no idea."

"Well, unless we go back in it will be hard to know for certain."

She held out her hands to him, her fingers now numb from the cold wind. "Ready?"

He reached out and took her wrist, his thumb brushed against the dimeritium bracelet. "I hope it does hide you from the Hunt. With how much leaping you're doing, it's a bit unsettling."

"It must do. Otherwise, they would have been upon us by now. With or without Eredin." Ciri whispered the words and they were almost entirely swallowed by the howl of the wind.

Only Eredin's already back, Kain thought to himself grimly, inching closer to Ciri. "I'm sorry we came here in vain. Perhaps, we can do better with a map." He rubbed her shoulders, smiling. "Let's go before you turn into a snowflake. Summer seems to have little power here on Undvik."

She smiled, delighted by his casual touch. "Hold on tight."

Once she was sure his hands would not leave her body, she invoked her power and teleported.

They arrived outside the walls of Oxenfurt Academy, on the sandy banks by the river. "Figured it was best not to cause a scene."

"Good call," he said, taking a look around. "We need to keep you secret while there are scared people still hunting you for Eredin. I don't believe they forgot."

"I forgot about that," Ciri admitted with a sigh, instinctually keeping her head down as they neared the gates. "Since they have no way of contacting The Hunt, I suppose they'd simply burn me at the stake like they do the other witches."

She stomped wet sand from her boots as they stepped onto the cobblestone road.

"Let's hope you're too fast to get caught, but better be careful. Maybe use cloaks."

"Forethought for our next adventure," Ciri murmured as they stepped through the gates. The streets running to and from the various academy buildings were not too crowded, possibly because a large chunk of the students had fled the city and not yet returned.

"You spent some time with General Voorhis." Ciri looked to Kain to gauge his facial expression. "What do you think of him? Is he trustworthy?"

"He looks trustworthy at all times," Kain said. "I suppose it's a part of his political successes. He knows exactly what to say. But he wasn't trying to deceive me. Why? He told you something you doubt?"

"Not really," Ciri replied. "He's just... very charming. I've fallen for pretty lies from pretty faces before. Don't want to make that mistake again. You're good at reading people. Figured I'd get your opinion."

"If he didn't try to deceive me, it doesn't mean he won't try to deceive you if he and the Emperor decide that it's for the best of the realm." Kain shrugged. "But I can't think of anything they would benefit from lying to you about at this point."

"Me neither, but I intend to keep my mind sharp in their presence anyhow."

They stepped into the library and signed falsified names in the book where visitors were required to record their visits.

"Do we need to ask for access to the maps or are they out for everyone to see?" Ciri whispered.

They didn't need to alert anyone: the map of the Continent was still spread on the wide table where the sorceresses had been using it regularly while searching for the Witcher and his gang.

Kain stood overlooking it, a subtle thrill of anxiety disturbing his concentration. His thoughts kept returning to Tor Gwalch'ca and the memories it held.

Ciri eyed the map as if it would reveal its secrets to her, and when it didn't, focused on Kain as if he could do the same.

"There is no possibility of there being a tower in our world that has yet to be discovered, is there?"

Kain shrugged. "I haven't been to Zerrikania, for instance. Who knows what's there? But had he ended up there, our sorceresses would have known. There must be something preventing us from finding him. I wish I knew what it is."

"Could it be a spell? Some form of concealment charm?"

"It could be many things, including those. And if it's magic - it's not his."

"No, I didn't imagine it would be," Ciri said, tucking an errant lock of hair behind her ear. "Think the sorceresses did something to him? The ones who did not wish to aid in our search?"

Kain tore his eyes from the map to look at her keenly. "Who are you thinking about?"

"Well, there's Philippa," Ciri mused, the note from earlier practically burning a hole in her pocket. "She's wanted Geralt and Yennefer out of the way ever since I've known her. I doubt that has changed even though The Lodge no longer exists."

She paused for a moment, thinking. "Or Francesca Findabair. Elven sorceress with a grudge against humanity for the mistreatment of her people. And Ida Emean aep Sivney. Another elf. A sage like Avallac'h. Though I don't know her political views. Or if she even cares about our current plight."

"Have you shared that thought with General?" Kain asked. "Philippa is deemed a criminal after her murdering King Radovid, and Francesca is a Duchess. Which makes them both matters of some political importance."

"The idea only occurred to me right now," Ciri confessed. "Think I should tell General Voorhis?"

Kain looked down at the map again, contemplating.

"I'd like to know what Avallac'h would tell you. You don't know how to reach him, do you?"

She shook her head. "He always just showed up when I needed him in the past. He isn't this time. I suppose I could simply teleport with him on my mind, but it's hardly proven a foolproof way of travel before."

"No, leaping like that would be folly."

"Then I know no other way." She frowned, another possibility suddenly dawning. "What if he has gone missing, too? He has never strayed from me this long. Has never failed to come when my heart calls for him. What if he cannot come?"

"Or doesn't want to."

"Why wouldn't he want to?"

Kain raised his eyes to meet hers. "His plans might not be the same as yours. Search your heart, Ciri, and tell me: can you truly be absolutely certain that you and Avallac'h have the same goals?"

"In the grand scheme, yes..." She searched his face instead of her heart, making certain his implications were sincere. "We both want Eredin and The Hunt dead. And to stop The Frost."

"He wasn't trying to kill the Riders during the attack," Kain told her in a soft voice. "He deliberately avoided harming them because he doesn't believe they deserve to die. Whatever he has against Eredin - being a Sage, he could've arranged his death or found a quicker way to do so than using you and your family. What he really wants must have to do with your Lara blood. Frost or no Frost, but I don't imagine he stopped seeking to restore his kin to its full potential."

Ciri shook her head slowly; she didn't enjoy his current line of thinking. "He's not a killer. I can't fault him for that."

Some people simply would not take another's life even when their own depended on it. It was rare but so was Avallac'h.

"I understand why none of you trust him. Looking in, he must seem like such a terrible villain. And I am not excusing his past behaviors. But it took me a long time to learn to trust him again. I don't believe he means me harm. He has had countless opportunities to deliver me to Eredin if that was his wish, and it would surely earn him his place back with his brethren. But he has fought them every step of the way and has risked his own life to protect me."

What if they never intended to kill him, either, and he knew it all along, Kain thought, but kept it to himself. "If so - you are well and he knows it. Protecting or helping Geralt, however, is not a part of his agenda. Thus he's not here with you for it."

Ciri swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth. "If that is true, he is actually harming me. He knows what Geralt means to me."

Kain shrugged. "If it doesn't hurt his goal, he might not consider it important enough to interfere."

He looked down at the map again, focusing. It took a lot of effort to do so, which surprised him and planted a bigger seed of doubt in his gut. He had no explanation for the way it felt.

Ciri leaned her back against the grand table, arms folded over her chest, and her mind deep in thought.

The trust between Ciri and Avallac'h had been flickering ever since they'd reunited with Geralt and Yennefer with their friends.

Her family had pointed out certain sides of the elf that Ciri had become so accustomed to, she hardly even considered them deviant and manipulative anymore. It had been just the two of them for so long. And even though there were certainly cracks in the glorified lens she'd watched Avallac'h through before, it felt like a betrayal to doubt him so thoroughly.

But what if Kain was right? What if Eredin was right? What if Avallac'h had never given up on his initial plans for Ciri, and had no intentions of ever letting her go?

"His traces are nearly everywhere around the North," Kain muttered, perplexed. "And none of them is vivid enough... No way to tell where Geralt is right now. It certainly has to do with magic. But what kind - I cannot tell." He smashed a fist against the table in frustration. "There should be another way to track him. There should be... I have to think harder."

"Beyond your blood?" Ciri asked. "Beyond my bond of destiny? What about another witcher? Someone with the same mutagens, from the same school. Do you think that could work?"

"Having the same mutagen doesn't mean they can track each other," Kain reasoned. "You need magic for it, and not witcher signs."

"Yes, but couldn't a sorceress use one Witcher to track another? Lambert and Eskil are practically Geralt's brothers. They grew up together. And are some of the only people in the world who received those mutagens."

"You have to understand what mutation is," Kain explained. "It's a series of trials with special herbal solutions and potions that change your blood. And it works for each man in its own way. There are no two witchers mutated in the same way. Geralt gained white hair because it was his individual reaction to the mutagen. Eskel and Lambert are different from him and from each other. It gives them no ability to sense each other the way blood magic works."

Ciri sighed, defeated. "Well, then we're still as stuck as before."

When they arrived back at the inn, Dandelion was busy with what remained of his dinner at the bar counter while Zoltan was wiping a basket full of freshly washed glasses and dishes, telling him something in vehement tones.

"... heard those talks everywhere around town now. I'm tellin ye, new pyres are comin."

"You said you didn't mind that Philippa witch getting what she deserved," Dandelion said between bites, and washed his baked potatoes down with a hearty swig of ale.

"I won' give a soddin rat's tail for her, it's true, but ye jus' wait, it's only a beginning. Hierarch must've gotten into some soiled deal with them Black Ones. Now they gonna persecute folks Nilfgaard tells em to. And my arse be zapped by lightnin if they stop with that owl bitch."

"We're not witches," the poet muttered, forking the last two pieces of potato and smearing them around collecting gravy. "We shouldn't worry about it."

"Aye, but hell if they forget the rest of us nonhuman folk. I ain't got any warm feelins for that bastard Dijkstra, but with his arse anchored here in Novigrad that mess wouldn't be happenin. Now this old cat's out, the goshdarn mice run rampant lookin to start pyres."

"Persecution concerns everyone, Dandelion," Ciri said, surprising the bard and Zoltan with her and Kain's appearance. "No one should have to face death simply for existing."

"Ciri!" Dandelion spread his arms wide, swallowing his latest mouthful of supper before greeting them with a brilliant smile. "Where have you two been all day?"

Ciri leaned against the bar countertop, her back and shoulders aching dully from the emotional stress of the day. As well as her monthly courses. "We've been searching for Geralt."

Zoltan and Dandelion both peered at her hopefully. She shook her head and their faces fell.

"Ye hungry, lass?" Zoltan asked. "Lad? Ye look like ye could eat."

Kain glanced at Ciri and agreed, "You're right, it's been a long day."

"Aye," Zoltan discarded his rag and hurried to the kitchen. "Baked potatoes with mushrooms and some ale shall do ye good. I'll bring it right in."

"I think I might return to the castle," Ciri said with an apologetic smile directed at the three men. "Truthfully, I am quite tired still and my sore muscles could use another early night in a warm bed."

"You need to eat first," Kain said. "You look..." he squinted slightly, gauging her, "... a bit faint. You feel all right?"

"I'm fine." Ciri waved a dismissive hand. "Just... womanly troubles."

Dandelion shot a wild glance her way and finished his ale.

"Ye seen Yennefer today, lassie?" Zoltan asked, setting her and Kain's plates and mugs before them. "She doin better?"

"Haven't had a chance to yet," Ciri murmured, picking unenthusiastically at her meal. "Maybe tomorrow if she is up for receiving visitors."

Dandelion looked between Kain and Ciri with an overly nonchalant look. Ciri didn't have the energy to decipher what that meant.

"So she's unwell still?" Zoltan asked.

Ciri shrugged. "Tired, I suppose. Needs a lot of rest."

"Tired of what exactly?" the dwarf wondered with a subtle hint of disbelief in his tone.

Ciri looked up to meet his eyes. "She nearly died. Both from the cold, dehydration, and the fact she apparently harmed herself so severely it could have been lethal. Of course she's tired."

"Been a fortnight, lassie," Zoltan said, attempting a softer voice.

"Zoltan," Dandelion groaned. "Don't you start with that horseshit again."

"Ah, sod off," Zoltan swatted a hand at the poet as though the latter were a fly, his piercing gaze set firmly on Ciri. "What if they're doin somethin to her to make her tired, lassie? To make her rely on them and stay longer? Ye think it's possible?"

"You're thinking Emhyr?" Ciri took a moment to consider that idea, then shook her head. "He knows he's on his last chance with me. I don't think he'd do anything so foolish to risk that now."

"It's all nonsense, really," Dandelion tried again, glancing between Ciri and Zoltan. "Emhyr would want her help with Ciri, you know, like a mediator. Gods know Geralt's never been as willing to put a word in for the Emperor."

"What about the Vigo witch?" Zoltan said, unwilling to give up just yet. "She had it for Geralt, we all know. What if she still does?"

"Then we suspect Triss, too?" Dandelion asked, astonished.

"There's no point in keeping Yennefer out of the way when there's no Geralt to be won," Ciri said. "And I trust Fringilla more than I do Philippa and Margarita."

She paused. "Besides, she owes me."

"How's that?" Zoltan wished to know. Both Dandelion and Kain looked at them, curious.

"I got her out of that dungeon, didn't I?"

"For as long as she remembers that," Zoltan said. "But them witches ain't the most grateful folk." He picked up his rag and resumed wiping the dishes. "All I'm sayin is for ye to be careful, lassie. Don't let them fool ye."

"I won't," Ciri promised, finishing the last of her meal. She gathered her plate and headed for the kitchen to wash it.

"Ye don't have to do that," Zoltan argued from behind the counter. "I'll do the washin up."

Ciri shook her head and gave the dwarf a smile. "It's good for me. With all the servants back at the castle, it's easy to become lazy and ungrateful."

Zoltan shrugged but gave in, continuing with his own work.

As soon as Ciri was out of earshot, Dandelion scooted closer to Kain, his voice conspicuously low. "Yennefer wishes to see you. Alone. Without Ciri knowing."

Kain peered at him, surprised. "Why, are they really in strife or something?"

"No..." Dandelion said, though he didn't sound entirely confident. "There are concerns. Talk to Yennefer. Only she will be able to properly relay what she wants to discuss with you."

Kain nodded, finishing his drink. When Ciri came back from the kitchen, he got up to go with her.

"I'm going to take Onyx for a quick ride," he explained. "He's been stuck in their stables all day."

Ciri nodded in acknowledgment and turned to face Dandelion and Zoltan. "Thank you for the food. And company."

"Yer always welcome here, lassie," Zoltan smiled, his mustache twitching. "Be careful out there."

Ciri nodded once more in a promise, took Kain by the hand, and teleported them both out of there.

Slightly baffled after the message and warnings Dandelion had conveyed, Kain decided that the best way would be to keep his visit unnoticed. He avoided all servants and guards on his way to Yennefer's quarters and lingered outside, behind the corner, waiting for Istredd to finally leave. Kain couldn't hear exactly what they were conversing about, but by the feel of it, the wizard very much preferred to be around Yennefer as much as she allowed.

Once the wizard of Aedd Gynvael was walking away from the doors and nearing the corner, Kain stealthily slipped inside. There was no one in the parlor but a maid busy with feeding more wood to the fireplace; she didn't notice him passing her on his way to the bedroom door behind a heavy velvet curtain. He forwent knocking and came in like a shadow.

Yennefer sensed that she was no longer alone before he even opened his mouth. She'd been deep in her thoughts, overcome with cold and hot tingles that shifted through her body in waves. She hated this new feeling. She'd been through a lot in her life, wars that she had to worry about, but this was different — deeper. It was as if what Ciri had done to her was rooted in her soul. "Thank you for coming."

Kain nodded, scanning her with sharp attention, collecting signs of what could be awry with her. Something in her eyes unsettled him.

"You look well," she said, pushing past the part of her brain that loathed the idea of making conversation. Of addressing this troubling issue. "Does she know you've come to see me?"

"No. I did as you asked. I've been careful to not be seen."

They hadn't been close since he'd come into their circle and for a moment, she wondered if perhaps he'd been conspiring with Ciri, if he was testing her. He'd never appeared to her in the tower and what she knew of Kain, he was a good man, a good person like Geralt who aimed to help people. But she had wronged him by attempting to read his mind once. What if he was still harboring resentment against her? Suddenly she wanted to cry, to cling to him, to throw herself from the nearest window to escape this array of helplessness. Yennefer had never liked being weak. She closed her eyes briefly, pushing past the thought, past whatever it was that was trying to strangle her with every imaginable fear. "Is... I..." For the first time, she was also struggling to compose her thoughts into action. She forced herself to her feet, to reinsert her usual confidence into her being. "Ciri tells me that neither of you were injured in the towers clutches, that you came out unscathed, and that she lost you for a time—"

"That is correct," he said, watching her with an air of polite expectancy while noting more little details, subtle gestures she seemed to be unable to help. It all betrayed something that was amiss, even though she had composed herself and displayed more of her usual stoic manner. "What happened to you there? What did you see?"

"Ciri. I saw Ciri. She hurt me repeatedly. Many times." Yennefer touched the space beneath her breast, drawing into herself a little. "During the time you lost her. When she left you."

Her revelation didn't shock him - in retrospect of what he knew so far, it made sense. But the insinuation that followed was puzzling. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that there is something wrong with her. That she is deeply troubled."

"We knew that before," he reasoned. "But you're implying that she found you in the tower to beat you up. And it's not true, Yennefer."

"I know what I know, Kain. I know my daughter and what she's done. It's... there's something wrong with her."

"We know what's wrong with her," he stated. "But she hasn't shown any anger or annoyance since we found each other again in the tower. And she couldn't have found you on her own. We have been trying to find you all the time we've been there and we couldn't."

"And you're sure you... what about when she lost you? How long were you separated? You know it doesn't take her much to move and who knows what she has picked up from Avallac'h."

"Her powers didn't work there," Kain said. "She tried to take us out of there and it didn't work. We had to find a portal. And while looking for it, we lost each other for a short while. I can't imagine how she would be able to use that time to locate you and then meet me as if nothing happened."

"She could have been trying to trick you by pretending that her magic was dormant. The tower radiates magic. Powerful magic beyond our measure. You were both physically unharmed by its hold. What's to say she didn't take this opportunity to punish me? That she didn't lie. She'd been there before, she might have known how best to manipulate it."

Kain closed the distance between them slowly, not to make her nervous with any quick moves. His eyes were locked on hers as he attempted the most sincere expression he could possibly muster. "Listen to me, Yennefer. You might not know it, but what you saw in there - that horrible scene haunting your mind - it was a vision. You were unconscious all that time and seeing things you believed were real."

She took a defensive step back, annoyance spiking, her hands falling to her midsection, to the belt looped around her waist that shielded her bruises from his view. She had the urge to rip open her robe, to show him the proof of what he was trying to tell her was possibly something in her mind. That she'd imagined. How could that even be? How was that possible? How was he so blinded he couldn't see? She felt rage. Not at Kain, at the situation, at how crafty her daughter was. "I was not unconscious — not for long. Neither was she."

"Yes, you were," Kain insisted in a calm, confident voice, holding her gaze. "What you saw in your head was so strong you felt the effects on your body. It injured you for real because you believed it was real. It was the Tower's magic."

"You're blinded, Kain. She's…" Yennefer's hands curled into fists at her side, staying close to her body, keeping tight to her side with such force to keep from throwing him across the room.

"She didn't do it, Yennefer. Look at me, look me in the eye. I swear to you she didn't do it to you. They found you on Undvik at Tor Gwalch'ca, unconscious. You were plagued by visions you couldn't wake up from while they kept injuring you. They brought an oneiromancer to wake you."

"Because she found some way to put me down. To knock me out." Those bruises were becoming more intense, more painful to try and work through. "She planned this."

Kain stared at her in baffled disbelief. "She was with me trying to find you and Geralt. Yennefer, please, hear me. She didn't do it. I know you thought it was real, but it wasn't. That oneiromancer they brought to help you couldn't recover after that vision that tortured you. It obviously held a powerful magical charge, but it wasn't Ciri's magic."

Yennefer didn't know what to think anymore but the hopelessness of his lack of understanding pinched at her and she craved to ask him to leave. To force him to remove his beseeching eyes and kind expression. An expression that was trying to make her see the truth – his truth.

She was alone, hated, and loathed.

Her shoulders hunched as she drew into herself, the realization of what she was doing turning her insides cold. "How can you be so sure she wasn't away from your side for longer than you think? Time as we've all discovered moved quite differently in the tower. Are you that confident and sure that what you saw was real? That she was with you as long as you claim and not a figment of the tower?"

As certain and adamant as he was about his statements, Kain felt an unpleasant tingle of doubt somewhere very deep.

Time inside the Tower didn't exist in the same way. Nothing was the same as outside. And what if she wasn't as confused as she seemed? Something - or someone - had to knock her out.

Kain drew in a deep breath in a meek attempt to squelch his swelling unease. An idea suddenly struck him: what if Ciri had found Yennefer but the sorceress appeared to her as someone else? An enemy? And the Tower tricked them both?

He regarded Yennefer closely, pondering this new angle and no longer sure of what to tell her. He didn't want to support her anxiety, nor to deny it so fervently anymore.

"I have to find out what happened to you," he said eventually. "We don't even know how you got out. Do you remember?"

"No, I— I don't remember. If even an inkling of what happened to me is happening to Geralt…" Guilt overcame her. Not the first time since everything has happened, since she'd been woken up as Kain said. Since she was trapped. "Happened to Geralt. How… can we be sure that if she hurt me as badly, she didn't kill him?" Airing it seemed wrong, like a betrayal, but deep down in the pit of her stomach where the bruising sat on more than just skin, it felt like the right thing - like the only explanation.

A hot wave of shock pushed through him, and it took a moment to comprehend what exactly she was implying.

"You can't be serious," he murmured. "He's not dead. I would've known."

"How? What makes you so sure? We failed her, Kain. We failed to save her, to keep her from being hunted like an animal. We're still failing. What if she's finally succumbed to that hatred or loathing of what we did and were unable to do, and what if she decided that she wanted to punish us? As we've seen, with the influence of magic she isn't beyond it. It could be she doesn't even love me like she once did. Or us."

"Now you're just wrapping more and more of your personal fears around it," Kain reasoned. "You lack facts and keep trying to come up with explanations to things you think she feels. Have you asked her? You can only see if a person lies when you watch that person answer your question."

"She won't tell the truth. She hates me and no longer loves me."

Kain made a step towards her — tentatively, given how she recoiled the first time. "It's not true. She never stopped loving you and Geralt. She doesn't stop loving even if she's confused. But she's been herself since we came back. When she came to see you she couldn't wait to make sure you were all right." He sighed, searching for a better way to calm her. "Look, Yennefer, I know you doubt everything, and with what happened with you it's only natural. But please, please find it in your heart to at least give her the benefit of doubt as well. Give her a chance. Give yourself a chance to see the truth in her. Talk to her. Use your power to discern. You haven't lost it, have you?"

Her eyes narrowed imperceptibly. She didn't know if he was trying to patronize her or if he was genuinely trying to help her. Her fingers found her temples, trying to work away the buzz that came with her confusion and guilt. "No, I… I'm still able to think, to see, this is why I'm trying to tell you. She doesn't love me anymore. Whatever dark magic overcame her, it sucked whatever love she has for me away. If there ever was any to begin with, it's not as if I was ever really her mother. As if I could be. My failings are too plentiful." There were tears now in her eyes as she tried to concede what her heart now believed, her cheeks and nose beginning to shade a soft red. She pushed the rush of emotion aside as if it were poison, hating herself for the latest show of weakness, for another bout of smothering vulnerability that was perpetually choking her, it made it harder to breathe.

His heart tightened with pity for how hard it was for her. The feelings and emotions, heart-wrenching and raw, were oozing from her abundantly, and he couldn't help the awareness of how true it was for her and how false for him. The way her words made his confidence fluctuate was another proof of the strength the roots of her beliefs possessed. It would take a lot to turn this around. And it wasn't something he could do, he feared. It wasn't about him — it was about Ciri. Ciri was the only one to make Yennefer believe her again.

Trying to be as gentle as he could, he neared her and put his hands on her shoulders to catch her eyes and provide comfort at the same time. He held her eyes with his, trying to comfort her with his energy in a puny hope it could clear a bit of fog away in her mind.

"You haven't failed her, or Geralt," he said in a quiet but steady voice. "I know you would do anything. I saw what you're capable of and what laws you're ready to overstep in the name of those you love. You're ready to destroy anything in your way to save your child. I know it. And even though I don't approve of your ruthless methods, I do admire it about you. As much as I admire the lengths Ciri is ready to go for you and Geralt. She is still your Ciri. She is still there, and she is trying to reach for you. Will you abandon her now? Or are you willing to save her?"

She didn't pull away from his touch, finding herself leaning into it, as if for the first time in her life she craved validation. As if she were that broken that the walls she'd erected before were struggling to stay upright, to build that confidence back into place. Why had it been so hard this time? Because it had been Ciri who beat her into submission? Because the girl had long since claimed her and without her, she had nothing to live for? Geralt had her heart, but Ciri had her soul. She looked into Kain's kind eyes, suddenly seeing the resemblance to Geralt, a pull that was almost magnetic, her arms suddenly finding their way around his waist, hugging herself against him as if he'd compensate for that loss, too. His words made sense, and yet, she believed what she believed. Knew what she knew. As if to apologize for her thinking, for not being strong enough, she'd spoken against his shoulder, to the air. "I'll always save her."

He held her closer, embracing her now that she allowed for it. "Then find a way to reach out to her. Find a way to read her for truth or lies. I will try my best to find out what happened to you and I'll tell you what I find. All right?"

Yennefer nodded against his shoulder and then drew back, smoothing away the tears from his shirt, the evidence that she'd shown weakness with someone other than her family. But he was part of her family now, wasn't he? "I'll trust your judgment and will do what I can. I'll— I'll talk to her."

"Do that when you're ready. Just remember, it might not be the way you think. Try to find out the truth rather than imagine it according to what you think happened. I will come back when I have something to tell you. I have an idea what to do."

"You do? I'd love to hear what that is."

"I'll tell you what I find," he repeated. "For now it's all you need to know."

She took a step back, giving him the signal that he was free to leave if he wanted to. "Thank you for coming. For listening."

He nodded, then asked in afterthought: "How much have you told others? Your friend the wizard and the witches?"

"I haven't spoken to them at all. I don't want them harming her or knowing about what went on inside." But more importantly, it was about her, Yennefer. About what she'd deal with if she let them know what happened. She didn't want their pity.

He nodded. "All right. I'll be back as soon as I find something. And when you see Ciri again - don't tell her what you think she did. It will upset you both and reveal nothing. Just try asking her and see what she says. See if you can feel the truth or lies."

With that, he left her, slipping out the door as quietly as he arrived.