‘You won’t do it.’

‘You’re right, I won’t. I wouldn’t be able to. I shall behave as befits a scorned and spurned lover. Classically. I shall walk away with my head high. With dignity and pride. Swallowing back the tears. Then I’ll howl into a pillow. And then I’ll bed another!’

By the end she was almost screaming.

He said nothing. Neither did she.

‘Geralt,’ she said finally, in quite a different voice. ‘Stay with me.

‘I think I love you,’ she said, seeing he was delaying his answer. ‘Stay with me. I implore you. I’ve never asked anyone nor thought I ever would. But I ask you.’

‘Fringilla,’ he answered after a while. ‘You’re a woman a man can only dream about. My fault, my only fault, is that I don’t have the nature of a dreamer.’

‘You are,’ she said a moment later, biting her lip, ‘like an angler’s hook, which once it’s stuck in, can only be pulled out with blood and flesh. Well, I’ve only got myself to blame. I knew what I was doing, playing around with a dangerous toy. Luckily, I also know how to cope with the effects. In that respect I have an advantage over the rest of the female species.’

He didn’t comment.

‘In any case,’ she added, ‘a broken heart, although it hurts greatly, a lot more than a broken arm, heals much, much more quickly.’

He didn’t comment that time, either. Fringilla contemplated the bruise on his cheek.

‘How was my amulet? Does it work well?’

‘It’s quite simply wonderful. Thank you.’

She nodded.

‘Where are you riding to?’ she asked in a completely different voice and tone. ‘What did you find out? You know where Vilgefortz is hiding, don’t you?’

‘Yes. Don’t ask me to tell you where that is. I won’t.’

‘I’ll buy that information. Quid pro quo.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘I have information,’ she repeated, ‘that is valuable. And to you quite simply invaluable. I’ll sell it to you in exchange for—’

‘For peace of mind,’ he finished, looking her in the eyes. ‘For the trust I placed in you. A moment ago there was talk of love. And now we’re starting to talk of trade?’

She was silent for a long while. Then she hit her boot violently, hard, with the riding crop.

‘Yennefer,’ she quickly recited, ‘the one whose name you called me several times in the night, in moments of ecstasy, never betrayed you, nor Ciri. She was never an accomplice of Vilgefortz. In order to rescue Cirilla, she fearlessly took an exceptional risk. She suffered a defeat, and fell into Vilgefortz’s hands. She was certainly tortured into the attempts at scanning that took place last autumn. It’s not known if she’s alive. I don’t know any more. I swear.’

‘Thank you, Fringilla.’

‘Now go.’