Chapter Twenty-Four

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Ciri wheeled Victoria into the main room, where Geralt and Nevellen stood. The two turned their attention to the two females as they entered.

Geralt's eyes were practically glued to Victoria. She sat there with her arms crossed over her chest, her breasts bulging slightly from the soft grey dress she wore. It was a beautiful color on her; one of his favorites on her.

Her drying hair was pulled back into a bun, with small strands falling loose against her cheekbones. Her freckles popped with her flushed skin on her cheeks.

Her eyes met Geralt's, and the blushing intensified as he smiled lightly. She was the most beautiful soul.

Victoria's eyes traveled to Nevellen, and her smile slowly disappeared as she looked up at him.

"Thank you so much for this, my other clothes were ready to run away by themselves." Ciri stated.

"But of course. Uh. . . You look lovely. The both of you."

He gestured to the seat beside Victoria, and Ciri sat with a smile.

Suddenly, Nevellen lifted his arms and moved them towards the table. Victoria's eyes widened as food suddenly fell onto the table, bouncing until it stopped against the wood.

"Roast venison, sage truffles sweet wine, and lots of it!"

Geralt reached forward, stopping it from tipping.

"And for you, only the best. Witcher's quail."

Victoria stared at the large piece as it fell onto the plate. Nevellen roared in laughter, and Ciri followed along as she began to dig in to the feast. Victoria inhaled as she straightened her shoulders.

"That's a good one." Geralt said, throwing it aside.

"I jest, I jest! Mountain pheasant for my friend!"

Geralt stared at him as he chewed on a sliver. Sighing, Victoria reached forward and took a bite of the tender venison. She chewed as she looked to Ciri, who was feasting away.

"Very good, eh?"
"Very good indeed."

"Has he told you how we first met?"
"No. He's not especially chatty."

Victoria smiled.

"No."

"I'd like to hear, though."

"It's my favorite tale. You see, this snow-capped sourpuss here was hired by the most horrible monster of all, my father, to clear our woods of a wyvern infestation."

"I've seen those in the books."
"Horrid creatures. See that weak young whelp of a lad?" He asked, pointing to a photo. "That was me. And I tried to prove myself to my father by killing one first. But instead I fell into the damned beast's lair. This one pulls me up by the scruff of my neck and slays the wyvern snapping at my nethers. What do you think he does next?"

Victoria remains silent as she reaches for the wine.

"Gives me a hiding for being such a cretinous twit? No. He hands me the wyvern's head and tells my father I was the one that killed it."

Victoria and Ciri both looked to Geralt, who returned the favor.

"I had to clear the forest of the entire pack. Got paid either way."

"Nonsense. He's a big softie. I tell you no word of a lie, young Ciri, Lady Victoria. It was the first and last time I saw my father proud of me."

Lady Victoria? She thought. What did Geralt tell him, to treat her as if she were still a princess?

"After that, Geralt and I became friends of a sort, over many a summer."

Geralt chimed in. "Since we're telling no lies, tell us about your curse."

"Yes," Victoria said, watching as the beast looked to her. It was the first time he had heard her voice. "Tell us, Nivellen."

"In front of the girl?"
"She's tougher than you think."

Ciri turned her attention from Geralt and looked to Nevillen.

"I was a gormless young twat. That's how. Fell in with a bad lot. I trashed the Temple of the Lionhead Spider. High on godflesh and mushrooms."

"All the mushrooms in the world wouldn't make anyone that stupid." Geralt said.

"If only it was so. After the damage was done, this priestess cursed me to live like this forever. Alone."

Victoria didn't believe a word of of what he was saying. But then again, some punished others for minor things and inflicted excessive damage for their own pleasure; she knew that from her own experience.

"Hmm," Geralt hummed. "All curses have cures. What did she say?"

"She screamed something about love and blood. I don't remember. . . I'll be honest, I've tried to end it, Geralt. More than once. But I kept coming back. That priestess won't let me off so easy."

Victoria inhaled as she leaned back. She took the top of the wheels and pushed the wheelchair away from the table. Geralt's eyes followed her, quickly standing to her feet.

"Yes, let us get more comfortable." He said as he approached the chair. He poured more wine as Geralt looked to her again, but she avoided his eyes.

"The village below was abandoned." Geralt mentioned. "What happened there?"

"After the Battle of Sodden, the countryside is a dangerous place. Hungry soldiers, deserters—"
"That's not enough reason for an entire village to leave their homes."

"Is it." Nevillen said as he stared back at Geralt. "When the Wild Hunt's riding over the horizon. I saw them myself. Just last week. Riding their skeletal horses across the southern sky. A portent of doom."

"The Wraiths of Mörhogg? My grandfather saw them just before Cintra fell."

"Her grandfather was a drunk. He saw a lot of things." Geralt offered a rugged smile.

Victoria was bored of the conversation.

"I'm simply saying, the North and South at war, monsters roaming when they should be hibernating, pestilence sweeping the land . . Maybe it's the end of days."

"Wouldn't that be the greatest news for you." Victoria stated.

"I've lived through a whole dark age and three supposed end of days. It's all horseshit."

"No, something has changed, Geralt. The world's acting of its own strange accord these days. Far outside the reach of kings and men—"

Victoria's eyes focused on the ceiling as scratching occurred within the ceiling again. But this time, she was not the only one who noticed. Geralt, Ciri and Nevillen looked up as it continued.

"Nivellen, do you have a cat?" Ciri asked. "I think the poor thing might be stuck in the ceiling."

He pointed to the girl. "I do, in fact. She's fine. Vereena, she's called. I'm very glad of her company. Even if she's a shy wee thing. Not fond of strangers."

"Didn't you say you were cursed to live alone?"
"Didn't you say cats are afraid of witchers?"

Nivellen avoided the questions thrown at him, along with the dagger-like stare Victoria sent him. She began focusing on withdrawing her power, feeling her skin tingle.

The beast threw his arms into the air, raising his voice. "How about a show?"

Victoria gasped in pain, wincing within the wheelchair. Geralt looked to her, standing to his feet. Victoria shooed him away, trying to brush the pain off.

"How about we scout the property? Make sure it's secure for the night."

Nivellen groaned.

"Go on, Geralt. We'll be all right."

Victoria began trying to move. "I'll go with you,"
"No," he said, turning to her. She tilted her head back and looked up at him. He pinched her chin gently. "Stay."

Geralt turned, and with one more glance, he exited the mansion.

Victoria clenched her jaw. "Nivellen, if you wouldn't mind, will you lead me to where I'll be staying for the night?"

"Oh. Um, yes. Of course, Lady Victoria. Please, allow me."

The beast neared her and wheeled her out of the room before taking her down the hall. As he pushed open the door, Victoria peeked inside to see a dimly lit room with a large bed.

"Here you go, Milady." He said, reaching for her. "Let me help you—"

Nivellen stopped as the cold tip of a blade pressed to his throat. He looked down as Victoria pressed the blade farther to his throat.

"I don't know what you are, or what you did. But because you are a friend of Geralt's, I will not end your life." Victoria said. "But if you so think of putting your hands on Ciri, I will not hesitate. Do you understand, Nivellen?"

"I wouldn't." He said quickly.

"Good." She said. The blade pulled away from his skin, and she tucked it back into her sleeve.

Nivellen quickly exited the room.


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