When finally light enters my room via a small hole in the wall, I get up from the bed.
And fall to the floor after one step on my bad leg.
I grumble as I stretch out the leg. My dress is in the way, but because it is already tattered, I don't have much difficulty ripping off the bottom.
With easy access to the leg, I see the strip of cloth that Geralt had tightened right below the knee. The front of it is wet with blood. I undo the cloth, wincing as it uncovers my cut. It's deeper than I have previously believed.
"Great," I mutter, "Stupid branch. And stupid rock."
I scooch backwards until I can reach the cup of water next to my bed. Taking it, I take liberty in pouring it directly on the wound, trying to clean it. After I run out of water, I set the cup aside and pick up the cloth I ripped off from the dress.
I wince at its condition. The cloth is marred with dirt, and I really didn't want to press it to an open wound. Flipping it, I see that the inside is much cleaner. I redo the tie at my leg, baring my teeth as it burns.
When I'm done, I grin. "Good as new."
Climbing up to my feet, I test putting some weight on the leg. It's definitely unhappy, but so was I for the past year. It'll have to deal with it.
I practice walking around my room while covering up the limp. Once I'm satisfied enough, I leave my quarters, but not before snatching my thick cloak. I remember the way Eskel led me down last night, and retrace back the steps to the dining hall, hoping to find someone there.
I hear people talk as I walk in, though they stop once they hear the door open. I spot Eskel and Coen eating at a table.
Eskel looks me up and down as I stride in. "Why's your dress like that?"
I blink at him. "It was in the way."
He frowns. "So you ripped it off?"
I don't answer, and instead ask, "Where's Geralt?"
"The little princess is already missing her protector." Coen scowls. "How about you stop leeching off of him, yeah?"
I harden my jaw but let no emotion show on my face. Be indifferent. Be indifferent. Be indifferent. Even though, he is right. It seems I haven't been careful enough, and I've leaned too much on Geralt's support. That will have to end.
"I didn't ask for your commentary. I asked you where he is," I say, calmly. Geralt would be proud of the emotionless tone I used.
Coen opens his mouth, but Eskel cuts him off, "He's in the alchemy room, with Vesemir."
I nod as a thank you. Before leaving, I briefly consider eating breakfast. I hadn't eaten dinner last night either. I push that thought aside when I feel the anxiety in my gut, knowing I wouldn't be able to stomach any food right now. Some time later, I decide.
Besides, I don't want to sit anywhere near Coen and eat breakfast with him.
As I head out of the dining hall, I realize I have no idea where the alchemy room is, but I'm not willing to ask.
Closing the dining hall door behind me, I view my options. I know the stairs to my right lead to the quarters, and the door in front of me is the entrance of Kaer Morhen. I don't know where the left hall would take me. Usually, I would be curious enough to explore, but today, I'm far too tired.
I decide to leave the building and get some fresh air.
Pushing open the heavy, large door, I step into the snow and take deep breath in as fresh cold air enters my lungs. I let the door close behind me as I trudge towards the stable, figuring that Roach wouldn't mind a visit.
I smile once I spot her familiar coloring. She really is beautiful, with her red-brown coat and white stripe down her face. She snorts, hopefully in greeting, as I approach her.
I place a gentle hand on her neck, petting her. "Hey, Roachie. I hope it's not too cold for you out here."
Another horse pushes its way in front of her. The horse has such dark brown fur, that I nearly think its black. It nudges its nose under my hand that is on Roach. I laugh, "And who are you? You also want some attention, huh?"
I know Roach doesn't like to be touched as much in the face by me, so I keep to her neck, but the second horse seems to want me to pet its snout, so I do. "Luckily for you, I have two hands."
"Do you always talk to horses?" A voice asks behind me, and I scream, jumping away from the horses, and I trip over a wooden bucket behind me, falling into a heap onto the snow.
I definitely sprained an ankle there, pulling that move.
A face enters my vision. It's getting all too familiar- with people looking down at me while I'm lying down.
"Are you okay?" he asks, laughing.
"Lambert!" I growl, "Why would you sneak up on me like that?"
"Sorry," he apologizes, looking as unapologetic as possible. I am surprised when Lambert reaches out a hand and helps me up to my feet. I haven't talked to him enough to know exactly how he feels about my presence. Coen has made it obvious, and Eskel doesn't seem to be too bothered by me. The only two I am unsure about are Lambert and Vesemir.
"You're not even an ounce sorry," I grumble, but there's a small smile on my face.
He's still grinning as he brushes off some snow from my clothes, but it feels more as if he is patronizing me, than taking care of me. "I wouldn't have done that if I knew you would've jumped five feet into the air. Sorry, princess."
The smile slips as I remember Coen's words, mocking my former status, even though Lambert isn't using it in the same manner. I say, "Ciri."
"What?"
"Ciri. Not princess," I clarify.
Before he can respond, I hear the thumps of shoes against snow. We turn around, and I see Geralt and Vesemir sprinting towards us, both of them brandishing their swords. Now, I know how it feels when a monster is chased by a Witcher. Fear rocks into me, before I remind myself Geralt wouldn't hurt me.
They stop in front of us, looking around. Geralt is ready to fight. I can see it, with the way he carries himself, opening up his senses so that he can detect any possible danger. Both Witchers scan me from head to toe before deeming I am unharmed.
Geralt asks, "What happened? We heard the scream."
Screw their stupid Witcher abilities. Why can't I scream in peace, without summoning two Witchers?
"Ciri fell," Lambert explains.
"Because of Lambert! He showed up out of nowhere!"
He defends himself as I glower at him, "Not on purpose! I was just asking her what she was up to, since she was talk-"
I elbow him. It doesn't hurt him one bit. I only surprised him.
I supply, "I was just petting Roach."
"And Cobalt," Lambert adds.
I splutter, "You named your horse Cobalt?"
"How is Roach any better?"
"Children," Vesemir says as he tucks away his sword in his sheath, and Geralt does the same, "Maybe we shall go inside, to have our first meal?"
Lambert's mouth falls open. "I am no child."
A quiet laugh comes out of me at his reaction, and then all of their attention is on me. I see Geralt tilting his head as he watches me, as if this is the first time I've laughed in front of him.
And then I realize, it is.
I can't be smiling- or laughing- when all my people can't anymore because they've been slaughtered. It wouldn't be fair to them for me to move on so easily.
So I clear my throat to cover it up and revert back to my emotionless face. When doing so, I wonder if I have more in common with Geralt than I originally thought.
I'm the first to move towards the dining hall, and the others follow me. I hope that by now, Coen is gone, but no such luck. He's sitting there, now sharpening his sword by the table. Eskel, on his part, has removed his plate and is cleaning a knife.
I remember settling on not eating breakfast for today, but I know Geralt will accept no such thing. The side of my mouth pulls in displeasure, but I decide that it's better to eat when he's present and watches over, so he won't worry about my consumption when he's not there.
We go to the fire, where Geralt picks out two bowls and fills them with gruel. He hands me one which I accept and we all, unfortunately, join Coen and Eskel's table.
I am silent as they make conversation, nudging around the food before forcing some of it down my throat. I want to throw up- my stomach unable to handle anything at the moment- but I clench my jaw.
"The food not to your taste, princess?" Coen remarks. Somehow, he has noticed my difficulty in eating, but the reason he came to is completely wrong.
At this point, I am a hair width away from throwing my bowl aside and attacking Coen, although he would easily overpower me. Everyone looks over at me, and I note that the rest have already finished their portion while I'm halfway through mine.
"Not at all. I'm just a slow eater," I say, shoving a spoonful of gruel into my mouth to prove it. I force myself to swallow it all down. I feel like I'm going to war against my body. My body says, 'no thanks, we are too anxious to be able to digest food', and I say, 'that's unfortunate, let me help you with that' and then eat regardless.
Vesemir brings up a new topic regarding some monster, and I sigh in relief as their attention shifts away from me.
I steal a glimpse at Coen, trying to see if he's removed his attention from me, but instead, he crinkles his nose in disgust at me. I look away. What is his problem?
Once I finish the gruel, I shove the bowl away from me, and my body slumps in relief, losing its stiff posture. I don't remember previously needing so much energy to eat food.
A hand touches my shoulder, and I flinch instinctively from it. Geralt and Vesemir are standing behind me, and only now do I realize the two empty spaces at the table. I was so fixated on finishing my food, I hadn't noticed them move.
I cover up the flinch by pretending that it was a planned move, turning around fully to look up at Geralt. I have a feeling I'm not fooling anyone, though.
Either way, Geralt merely says, "Vesemir and I are going back to the alchemy room. You can stay with the others or join me."
I snicker in my mind. As if I would want to spend any second more with Coen and his sneers and taunts. I jump off the seat and follow them, dropping off the bowl on a platter where Geralt and Vesemir have placed theirs.
As we leave the dining room and turn left to the hallway I haven't been in yet, I ask, "What are you doing in the alchemy room?"
Vesemir slows his pace so he matches mine. "We are studying the makeup of the venom of the wyverns' stinger tails, to see if we can design an antidote from it. I'm glad you brought it with you, Geralt."
"Brought what with you?" I ask.
"Remember the wyvern that ran into us?" Geralt asks, and I nearly scoff. As if I could forget that beast trying to maul me to death. "I took his stinger part of the tail with me."
"Hm." I frown, wondering when he had done that. I probably was too focused on the dead head to notice Geralt tip-toeing to the back of the beast and slicing off his tail.
Vesemir pushes the door open, and holds it as Geralt and I enter.
The alchemy room is circular, with many wooden shelves that contain jars and glasses of liquids. I branch away from the two Witchers to take a look at the potions. There's a wide variety of colors- from bright greens and yellows all the way to pitch-black. The pitch-black one reminds me of what Geralt takes before he goes swinging his sword at some monster.
Is it weird that I feel the need to drink all of them?
I scoff. Geralt would behead me himself if I went on a drinking spree throughout the alchemy room, if one of these potions wouldn't have done the job for him already.
I move on to another shelf, but by this one, there are animal parts in the jar. Examining them closer, I shake my head. No, not animal parts. Monster parts. Animals wouldn't have that long talons and teeth and creepy eyes and scales colored like a painting.
Turning around, I join the two Witchers by the table in the center, where the trident part of the wyvern's tail lies. They've already cut it open and extracted some blue liquid out of it which they've put in another glass jar. Something I've noticed across the board is none of the glasses are labeled, which sounds pretty dangerous to me.
I comment, "You should really label the glass jars."
"Witchers have excellent memories," Vesemir explains the lack of labeling on everything.
Geralt drops a scalpel-looking tool and observes the room around him. "Hm, Ciri is right, though. I can only name the ones I can identify or have been here for. Maybe it's best to label them, in case you are absent in future times."
Vesemir nods. "That's true. I'll go grab some ink. I'll be right back."
Honestly, I am surprised they took my advice so quickly.
"That was a good idea, Ciri," Geralt compliments.
Now that Vesemir is gone, I decide to talk about what has been in my thoughts since I've arrived back in my room after the nightmare.
"Geralt," I say hesitantly, "I wanted to talk to you about last night."
He quickly reassures me, "Ciri, you can always come to me- for anything."
"No, it's not that. It's about what happened at the dining hall. I know something happened between me drinking White Seagull and waking up on the bench." I pause to view his reaction to it, but he's keeping his emotions closed, so I continue, "My grandmother and her advisors- they kept a lot of things from me- and this had backfired when I found myself on my own. I know you're trying to protect me, but I don't think it's right by not telling me what's going on. That will only hurt me in the end."
He lets out a sigh, grabbing a towel and wiping his hands free of monster blood. "You're right. I am trying to protect you to the best of my ability. I want you to heal here without any newfound concerns, and I am worried that by adding this new stressor, it'll be too much and hurt you."
We hear Vesemir open the door, so before I can reply, the Witcher says, "We'll talk about it again later, okay?"
"Okay." I nod.
I suppose this is better than nothing. At least, Geralt didn't simply cast aside my request, and we will talk about it.
I can't help but worry about what exactly happened last night. The way Geralt is making it out to be is that it's something pretty bad. I pray that it's not what I think it is, because if it is, we may all be in danger.