‘He has endless vices,’ said Yennefer coldly, walking over and imperiously linking arms with the Witcher. ‘He has practically nothing but vices. You’re wasting your time, ladies.’

‘So it would seem,’ agreed Marti Södergren, still smiling spitefully. ‘Here’s hoping you enjoy the party, then. Come on, Keira, let’s have a goblet of something… alcohol-free. Perhaps I’ll also decide to have a try tonight.’

‘Phew,’ he exclaimed, once they’d gone. ‘Right on time, Yen. Thank you.’

‘You’re thanking me? Not sincerely, I should imagine. There are precisely eleven women in this hall flashing their tits through transparent blouses. I leave you for just half an hour, and I catch you talking to two of them –’

Yennefer broke off and looked at the fish-shaped dish.

‘– and eating illusions,’ she finished. ‘Oh, Geralt, Geralt. Come with me. I can introduce you to several people who are worth knowing.’

‘Would one of them be Vilgefortz?’

‘Interesting,’ said the enchantress, squinting, ‘that you should ask about him. Yes, Vilgefortz would like to meet you and talk to you. I warn you that the conversation may appear banal and frivolous, but don’t let that deceive you. Vilgefortz is an expert, exceptionally intelligent old hand. I don’t know what he wants from you, but stay vigilant.’

‘I will,’ he sighed. ‘But I can’t imagine your wily old fox is capable of surprising me. Not after what I’ve been through here. I’ve been mauled by spies and jumped by endangered reptiles and ermines. I’ve been fed non-existent caviar. Nymphomaniacs with no interest in men have questioned my manhood. I’ve been threatened with rape on a hedgehog, menaced by the prospect of pregnancy, and even of an orgasm, but one without any of the ritual movements. Ugh…’

‘Have you been drinking?’

‘A little white wine from Cidaris. But there was probably an aphrodisiac in it… Yen? Are we going back to Loxia after the conversation with Vilgefortz?’

‘No, we aren’t.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I want to spend the night in Aretuza. With you. An aphrodisiac, you say? In the wine? How fascinating…’

‘Oh heavens, oh heavens,’ sighed Yennefer, stretching and throwing a thigh over the Witcher’s. ‘Oh heavens, oh heavens. I haven’t made love for so long… For so very long.’

Geralt disentangled his fingers from her curls without responding. Firstly, her statement might have been a trap; he was afraid there might be a hook hidden in the bait. Secondly, he didn’t want to wipe away with words the taste of her delight, which was still on his lips.

‘I haven’t made love to a man who declared his love to me and to whom I declared my love for a very long time,’ she murmured a moment later, when it was clear the Witcher wasn’t taking the bait. ‘I forgot how wonderful it can be. Oh heavens, oh heavens.’