𝕏𝕀𝕏. "𝔻𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕘𝕖𝕥 𝕤𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕞𝕖, 𝔾𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕝𝕥!"

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ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɴɪɴᴇᴛᴇᴇɴ

"ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ɢᴇᴛ ꜱᴍᴀʀᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ, ɢᴇʀᴀʟᴛ!"

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"ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ɢᴇᴛ ꜱᴍᴀʀᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ, ɢᴇʀᴀʟᴛ!"

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It was difficult.

Truly it was.

How can one focus on anything Mousesack was saying when an arrogant little shit was whispering into the ear of a beautiful young woman in white?

God, if only Geralt could smack that cocky smirk right off his face.

       In the witcher's defense, he really was listening to his friend but clearly, the older man did not have Geralt's undivided attention. However, Geralt suddenly perked up when Mousack mentioned Eleanora.

"That girl... she's a Sarnorin, isn't she?"

"You know her?"

       "I wasn't sure at first but I've seen her after a few... meetings with King Irvin Sarnorin himself, ones that should never be uttered to the public. Besides, it's impossible living in Cintra without knowing the Sarnorin family. If I were you, I'd keep her hidden tonight and away from Queen Calanthe. God forbid what Calanthe'd do if she knew a hybrid was in her castle."

Geralt blinked.

       Mousesack's warning rang through the witcher's ears; he wasn't entirely sure he heard right. Eleanora mentioned before that her presence in Cintra wasn't entirely welcomed, but Geralt didn't push any farther. Yet, the word "hybrid" piqued Geralt's interest.

Hybrid... a hybrid of what?

       Eleanora had magic, but it wasn't uncommon. In fact, Mousesack had the same power, so clearly it couldn't have been that.

       Geralt promised himself he wasn't gambling with Eleanora's life tonight, and he intended to stick to it.

       Before he had a chance to respond, the witcher caught sight of Eleanora hastily dashing away from the stranger and towards Jaskier as she attempted to settle a dispute between the bard and a seething lord. The witcher scoffed, not wasting another second as he left Mousesack on his own.

       "Something about you reminds me of a scoundrel I once saw fleeing my wife's chambers!" Jaskier retreated backwards into a wall as he attempted to stutter out a response for the short, angry lord "Drop your trousers."

"What?!"

"My Lord, if you please-"

       "Don't try and get in the middle of this, woman!" the red-faced man spat out at Eleanora. "I didn't get a proper look at the little shit's face, but that pimply arse I'd remember anywhere."

ᴛʜᴇ ʜɪᴅᴅᴇɴ ᴍᴀɢᴇ 一 ɢᴇʀᴀʟᴛ ᴏꜰ ʀɪᴠɪᴀWhere stories live. Discover now