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Aretuza, the school of sorceresses on the island of Thanedd, is known to be a place full of magic. Promising young girls are trained to grow into the most powerful women of their time, countless potions are brewed, spells are cast. They learn telepathy and if they are gifted and worthy of ascension, they have the power to catch lightning in bottles. Impossible in the mortal realms, only a test of the ability to control chaos for a young, gifted adept.
Leticia Chabonneau, it is said, levitated apples through the classroom, every Adept learns exactly the same with stones in her first lesson.
Accordingly, Yennefer should not be surprised when she enters a room one evening and sees a human figure floating just below the ceiling.
And if it were Rita, she wouldn't be. But that Tissaia de Vries, the glacier-cold Rectoress, always panic-stricken to lose her precious control for the tiniest glimpse of a moment, eager to appear as cold and dignified as possible, does such a thing, irritates her.
"What the hell are you doing? Enjoying a new perspective? Must be a mind-blowing experience for your neck, finally being able to look down on others instead of always looking up." She grins at her own joke. It was worth it. Even though she can already see Tissaia's bitter expression in front of her, hear her reprimanding words that she should show her a little more respect, especially if Adepts could hear them. On the other hand, she is floating just below the ceiling, damn it! And it's not as if Tissaia insisted on being addressed as 'my most revered highly esteemed and honourable Archmistress de Vries' last night.
"I levitate, Yennefer."
"Did you use Zaeleill Aep for that? That would be an interesting assignment for the Adepts, wouldn't it? How many flowers must die to lift a Tissaia?"
"A topic you won't discuss with the Adepts, Yennefer, since you don't teach them arithmetic," Tissaia's grave, elongated voice echoes through the room. It's a tone that tells Yennefer she's closed her eyes, concentrating. She doesn't even have to look at Tissaia to know, she knows her voice so well by now. A single word, the inflection, the way she opens her lips, lets the individual syllables glide over her tongue. Ringing vowels and floating consonants that have the power in Tissaia's clear speech to ignite or extinguish a storm. Her tongue commanding Aretuza, the chapter of the Brotherhood, the continent. And her body when they are together at night. "I am sure you understand that such a spell requires considerable concentration, and accordingly I ask you to refrain from such thoughts for the time being."
Tissaia's voice is still calm, creating the pretence of total relaxation, but the sharp undertone does not escape Yennefer's notice. It is exactly the kind of tone that has always set her on edge, an invitation. With a sly smile on her lips, she takes a few steps across the room, then lifts her gaze to the ceiling. "You know, Tissaia, if you stand at just the right angle and look up and your dress is just like it is now, you can see..."
She winces as Tissaia briefly lets her concentration slip, loses control of the spell. She rushes forward, arms outstretched, just in time to catch Tissaia out of the air and pull her close, cradling her safely in her arms. Although it would be far more romantic had she actually fallen instead of floating to the ground in a controlled motion. If Yennefer hadn't caught her, a second later she would have touched the ground with her feet, safe and sound.
"You can put me down now, Yennefer," Tissaia's chilling voice rings in her ear, but she doesn't even think about it, pulling her even tighter in he arms. It is something special to be able to hold Tissaia like this without her pointing out that it is inappropriate and someone might see them. So she shamelessly savours the moment and squeezes her tighter.
"Not until you explain to me why you were about to break your neck a moment ago!"
"First of all," Tissaia puts in matter-of-factly, "this outcome was not intentional, but it was entirely due to your distraction that I lost my balance. Secondly, I wouldn't have hurt myself, but would have sunk gently to the ground. And thirdly" She raises a hand and points against the high stone ceiling of her study, where Yennefer can't see anything at all, "according to my calculations, in about a minute and a half that's exactly where Rita's enchanted mistletoe will emerge, which I wanted to take down." She finishes, taking a deep breath and giving Yennefer one last hard look, a clear sign that she should finally let her out of her arms, but Yennefer's grip on her legs and waist remains firm. "You put yourself in danger for this? Instead of looking for Rita and asking her to take it off?"
Her grip tightens even more, so much it must be getting uncomfortable for Tissaia. She knows perfectly well that Tissaia can take care of herself. After all, she is a great sorceress, Archmistress, 400 years longer in the world than she... she knows all this. She knows Tissaia's little speech by heart, which she recites whenever she feels the urge to tell her that she can take good care of herself. And she knows that too. Technically. But the memories of Sodden, the dimeritium, the daily fear that she might fall asleep in her arms and never wake up, have made her realise that Tissaia is no inanimate ice statue. Despite all the perfection, all the beauty that makes her seem like an untouchable deity of marble and ice, she is a human being of flesh and blood after all, just like her. And, despite all her magic, not invincible. Small, delicate and vulnerable. Just the thought that she could have fallen and hit the stone floor....
"Then you would be well advised not to distract me when I am floating right under the ceiling," Tissaia's voice comes from her arms, but she softens immediately, raising a hand to stroke Yennefer's cheek. "You don't have to worry, Yennefer," she smiles softly, snuggling closer in her arms. "I'll take care that nothing happens to me."
"I'll always catch you if you fall, Tissaia," Yennefer brings out in a croaky voice, tears welling up in her eyes.
"I didn't fall, Yennefer," Tissaia reminds her gently.
"I know..." She wrings a soft smile from herself. "But to say 'I'll always catch you if you float gently to the ground' would be too long and not romantic enough."
"How right you are," Tissaia smiles.
Soft bell ringing interrupts their conversation and within seconds a tiny green dot appears on the ceiling, quickly sprouting wider and wider, growing fragile stems and delicate green leaves beside which sprout white-yellowish berries. Snowflakes detach themselves from the bunch and float down onto them, tiny glittering diamonds in the tightly tied, dark strands of Tissaia's hair. "Technically," Tissaia declares with a thoughtful look, "Yuletide is over since yesterday. So we are no longer bound by tradition."
"Oh no?" Yennefer asks, unable to suppress a disappointed look. Tissaia shakes her head. And nonetheless wraps her arms around her neck to pull her to her and seal her lips in a tender, loving kiss.