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    Summary

    It was then that Geralt had realized that his medallion hadn’t stopped humming after they had passed through into the fae lands. He was under the effect of some kind of magic. That had to be it. That had to be why every mark on Jaskier’s skin, every drop of blood that ran down into the hollow of his throat made Geralt want to set the whole place ablaze.

    “Well?” the woman asked again. Everything around them seemed to go perfectly still. Even the birds stopped their fluttering and the insects had gone quiet.

    “I claim the bard as mine,” Geralt said flatly. He didn’t lower his sword or move away from Jaskier.

    She smiled at him and his medallion nearly shook his ribcage apart as some kind of raw magic wrapped around them both. Everything was bright and warm for a moment and then everything had gone dark.

    Language:
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