Kyana Of Cintra

19

Toruviel stood, blood still on her chin and lip, having seen the king swaying between decisions. "Please, my King. There are others. A new generation. Evellien who wish to fight! Let us take back what's ours. Starting now."

It took her just those simple words to get him convinced. He drew his dagger, pointing it directly at Kyana's neck, who looked into his eyes, unflinching. If she was to die, after many, many decades on earth, she would be satisfied with her long life.

"Wait!" Torque stopped him, holding his arm from delivering a fatal blow.

"Torque, stand aside!" Filavandrel commanded angrily, looking towards the beautiful woman in front of him. The woman he had allowed to be beaten ruthlessly, beyond recognition.

"The Witchers could have killed me. Both of them, it was two against one. They didn't, they're different, like us!" Torque tried to persuade the king, who merely shrugged him away.

Kyana raised her head, bloody, bruised, but strikingly sweet, to look at Geralt one last time. His eyes were confident in her ability to change Filavandrel's mind, although a small streak of doubt like the black of his eyes still remained.

"If you must kill me," Kyana spoke, looking at Filavandrel. "then I am ready. But the Sylvan's right. Don't call us human."

Filavandrel rose and walked to the side of Kyana, who tilted her head backwards willingly, her neck exposed. Geralt watched, partly in anticipation, partly in horror. If this went wrong, he'd lose her, and all of the heavens knew he couldn't lose her.

Filavandrel looked down, swinging the dagger. It missed her head, her neck, her chest, until finally it landed on her ropes. He cut her from her bonds, allowing her to untie the rope around her ankles and aid her friends.

Without hesitance, Kyana rushed forward to Jaskier and Geralt, who silently applauded her. Slipping her hands between their backs to grip the rope, she untied it with little difficulty, the hard material scratching at her scarred hands. Geralt let out a sigh of relief, both at being untied and at her still standing, her throat unslit, and her heart still beating in her chest.

The two men had no other restraints, and were allowed to stand, collect their property, and leave, although Geralt gave them the coin from the boy to keep themselves fed. The she-elf snarled at them when Kyana approached her king, shaking his hand delicately, a cautious hand hovering over the hilt of her sword.

"I wish you the best of luck." Kyana fished out a potion from her bag, the orange contents of the bottle sloshing around against the glass. "Healing potion for sour puss." She said, handing it to Filavandrel, who graciously accepted, gifting his lute to Jaskier in return to replace the one that was broken.

The Witchers and the human left, taking everything with them, including Roach and Pegasus. Geralt had insisted that Kyana ride her horse, having taken a worse beating than Jaskier. She had offered it to Jaskier despite this

"Get on the damn horse and get some sort of mean streak, you're too nice for your own good." Was Jaskier's adamant reply. "Credit where credit is due. That whole reverse-psychology thing you did on them was brilliant, by the way" Jaskier praised Kayana.

She bowed her head in acknowledgement. "Thank you, Jaskier, although I do commend your ability to bring fun to any situation." Geralt smiled gently, the tips of his mouth curving upwards just slightly in agreement.

"That's the conclusion. They just let us go, and you give all of Nettly's coin to the elves." Geralt turned his head towards Jaskier to scold him.

"Filavandrel's lute not gift enough for you?" He asked, returning his gaze to the road in front of him.

"Yeah, she is a bit sexy, isn't she? I do have respect for Filavandrel. He survived the Great Cleansing once. Who knows? Maybe he can do it again. Be reborn. Will the elf king heed what the Witcher entreats? Is history a wheel doomed to repeat? No, that's, that's shit." Kyana smiled reassuringly at him.

"Keep working on it, it'll be sublime, I'm sure." Jaskier beamed at her as they came upon the crossroads.

"This is where we part ways, bard, for good." Kyana's face fell. She rather liked Jaskier's company. Although she adored Geralt, having more company would be brilliant. Having seen Kyana's change of expression, Geralt sighed.

"I promised to change the public's tune about you. At least allow me to try." With Kyana's enjoyment of his company, and Geralt's lack of the ability to make her anything but happy, he sighed, agreeing to keeping Jaskier.

Jaskier strung the lute again, a strong note pouring from the instrument. "When a humble bard, graced a ride along, with Witchers from Rivia, along came this song?" He looked up at Kyana, who nodded in approval. She wasn't from Rivia, but it fit the song, so she didn't mind.

"When wolves and snakes fought, a silver tongued devil, his army of elves at his hooves did they travel." Jaskier strung his tune louder, building tension. "They came after me, with merciful deceit, broke down my lute and, they kicked in my teeth. While the devil's horns, minced our tender meat, and so cried the Witchers, he can't be bleat."

Geralt stopped Roach, a questioning gaze held on Jaskier. "That's not how it happened. Where's your newfound respect?" Jaskier smiled at him.

"Respect doesn't make history." Geralt looked at Kyana in disbelief.

"You condone this?" She smiled at him, patting his back with a bloody hand.

"Because you don't? Yes." She continued riding alongside Jaskier, leaving Geralt a little behind to stare at her back.

"Toss a coin to your Witchers, oh valley of plenty, oh valley of plenty, oh, toss a coin to your Witchers, oh valley of plenty." Jaskier drew out the last word, adding pitch change swiftly. Geralt listened, while Kyana hung on to every word with pride. Having caught up with her, watching the bard sing happily a few feet in front of them, Geralt admitted the truth.

"You were right." Kyana faced him as be spoke.

"About what?"

"He is a good singer."