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Yennefer hovers in the shadows by a pillar near the back of the ballroom. She lifts the goblet of mediocre wine to her lips, allowing it to spread over her tongue before swallowing, warmth trailing in its wake. She sighs. Virfuril had insisted on an early arrival at this ball being thrown by one of his more prominent vassals, while Yennefer would much have preferred to make a late entrance, meaning that there would at least be some interesting people already there. As things stand, not only did she not get to make the desired impression with the dress she had selected for the occasion, but she's now been left on her own, and she doesn't know another soul at the gathering. Virfuril is off being flattered by sycophants. Or having his cock sucked by a serving girl. Yennefer doesn't care either way, as long as it doesn't result in some mess she'll have to clean up.
With a sigh she takes in the room, casting her eye over the attendees, hoping that one of them will spark some little flare of attraction so that she might at least gain some enjoyment from the evening. There are a few candidates who pique her interest. A handsome dark-haired man who carries a sword and bears an intriguing scar on his cheek might be an option. A petite brunette woman with a warm smile catches her eye and nods in greeting. Yennefer feels a mild stirring. It's been a while since she was with a woman. And while she usually prefers a more voluptuous figure, she does look like she might be amusing and enthusiastic.
Just as she's about to pick up a second goblet of wine to take over and offer to the woman, the large doors to the ballroom swing open and the announcer clears his throat.
"King Henselt of Kaedwen, accompanied by his Royal Mage, Sabrina Glevissig."
Yennefer lifts an eyebrow, the brunette forgotten for now. She hasn't seen Sabrina since they ascended. Or, since Sabrina ascended and Yennefer went through the pits of hell. While they were never close, they did develop something of a friendly rivalry over the years they spent together at Aretuza. If she's not going to get anyone interesting to speak to, at least she can have some fun annoying Sabrina. For old times' sake if nothing else. She hides a smile behind her goblet as she watches her former schoolmate sweep in, looking as haughty and bored as ever. She is, of course, impeccably dressed. Sabrina had managed to look good in the sacks they'd been made to wear at Aretuza, so when given access to fine gowns and accoutrements, she is nothing short of dazzling.
Her blonde hair is pulled back from her face and held with some jewelled clip, while the length is allowed to tumble down her back in soft waves. The dress she has on is an emerald green, no doubt to bring out the colours in her eyes. The skirt is full and the bodice form fitting. As Sabrina makes her way down the entrance staircase and the angle of Yennefer's sight changes, she notes that there is a small window cut out of the chest of the dress, displaying Sabrina's magically enhanced breasts. Yennefer rolls her eyes. Oh, to be Sabrina and not have to change a single thing about yourself except the size of your tits.
She waits and watches while Sabrina attends to the usual round of introductions and greetings, draining her wine and setting the goblet down. In the years that have passed, Sabrina has developed some social skills, it seems. At Aretuza, there had been no doubt about her magical prowess, but she had floundered in the lessons covering persuasion and negotiation and anything else involving a personality. Being Sabrina, she studied hard enough to get by, even if her conversations sounded forced and premeditated.
Now, though, she seems at ease conversing with kings and nobles. She moves between them, bestowing smiles and snatches of conversation. The tits probably help, Yennefer notes, as most of the men speaking with Sabrina will not be focussed on what she's saying.
Eventually Sabrina nods at the person she's speaking to, and turns away. Yennefer grins when she sees her smile drop immediately, a sigh of relief lifting her impressive bosom. So it's not quite as effortless as it looks. This is Yennefer's opportunity, and she strides out from her hiding place towards her former schoolmate. Sabrina looks up at the movement, her eyes growing wide.
"Sabrina, darling, what a surprise," Yennefer says, making a show of grabbing the other woman's shoulders, dragging her in to kiss the air by both of her cheeks.
"Yennefer," Sabrina mutters, visibly disgruntled by this treatment. "It's been a while."
She straightens out her bodice, ensuring that her cleavage is adequately displayed by the artfully positioned slash in the design. Nearby, a servant walks into a pillar, dropping an entire tray of goblets and a carafe of wine.
"Fucking hell, those things are deadly weapons," Yennefer says, prodding her finger into Sabrina's chest.
"Fuck off, "Sabrina says, batting Yennefer's hand away. "What are you doing here anyway? You never come to these events."
"I'd heard Triss was going to be here and I thought it would be nice to see her." Sabrina doesn't need to know that Virfuril insisted on her attendance. "No offence."
"None taken," Sabrina says, with a roll of her eyes. She takes a goblet of wine from the tray of a serving boy who is visibly sweating, his eyes dipping below Sabrina's neckline and back to her face rapidly. Yennefer takes pity on him as she takes another goblet for herself.
"I think those people over there are in need of refreshment," she tells him, turning him around and nudging him. She moves to stand beside Sabrina as they both look out on the gathering.
"So, how are things in Kaedwen?" she asks.
Sabrina frowns, and doesn't answer right away. "There's…there's rather less magic involved in being a court mage than I'd imagined," she says, finally. "I've had to become quite involved in the politics of the region, which is tiresome." She glances at Yennefer. "You were always better at that kind of thing."
Surprised by the admission, Yennefer nods. "Yes, I've found Aedirn to be entirely boring too. Royals are like children, always needing to be kept amused or kept from fighting with each other."
"At least you didn't end up in Nilfgaard," Sabrina points out. She shifts closer to Yennefer, lowering her voice. "I've been hearing things about mages going missing there lately."
"Oh?" Yennefer frowns. "I've not heard anything. Are you still in touch with Fringilla?" A pang of guilt reverberates in Yennefer's chest. While it's not her fault that Fringilla ended up in Nilfgaard, she can't deny she had a hand in it. But it was going to be one of them, so better that it's not her.
"No," Sabrina says. "I haven't seen nor heard from her in years. But she must still be in post, or Aretuza would know about it."
Yennefer hums a response. "Do- do you have much to do with Aretuza these days?" she asks.
At this, Sabrina turns to her with a smirk. "I keep up with the news and any new research findings that are published. And I try to go back and visit every now and again."
Nodding, Yennefer takes a large swig of her wine. "And it is much the same, I imagine?"
"Why don't you ask what you want to ask, Yennefer?" Sabrina prods. "Tissaia is still there, and she is much the same."
"That's not- I wasn't going to-"
Yennefer is saved from coming up with a blatant lie by another entrance announcement.
"King Foltest of Temeria and his Royal Mage, Triss Merigold."
Yennefer and Sabrina turn to watch Triss enter, a few steps behind Foltest. She is wearing a bright blue dress, cut modestly at the neckline. Her curls are loose and falling over her shoulders. She casts her gaze over the room and her eyes light up when she spots the pair of them. After a few words to Foltest, she heads in their direction, her smile wide and genuine.
"Yen! I didn't expect you to be here!" She engulfs Yennefer in a tight embrace, squeezing her before letting her go and stepping back, keeping hold of her hands. "You look amazing!"
Compliments are something of a double edged sword for Yennefer. She knows she looks good. She made sure of it. But she also remembers a life where no-one told her she was beautiful or anything of the sort. So the words she once sought so ardently feel hollow. However, she knows Triss means no harm, so she smiles and looks down at her own gown; a tight black velvet bodice, shot through with silver threads, flaring into a looser skirt to allow for movement on the dancefloor should the mood take her.
"As do you," Yennefer says, pinching Triss' cheek. "Not that you could look otherwise with this face."
Triss rolls her eyes and turns her attention to their other companion. "And you," she says, taking Sabrina's face in her hands "Devastatingly gorgeous, as always." She leans in and places a lingering kiss very close to the edge of Sabrina's lips.
Yennefer notes, with interest, the colour that fills Sabrina's cheeks. She's never seen Sabrina affected by anyone before. At school, she seemed utterly indifferent to the attention that boys paid her. Since she arrived this evening, men have been falling over themselves whenever they've laid eyes on her and she hasn't spared them a passing glance. This, however, is something else. She catches Sabrina's eye over Triss' shoulder when she is pulled into a hug and lifts her eyebrows.
Anything I should know about you two?
Sabrina scowls at her and shakes her head, barely perceptibly.
Don't be ridiculous.
Yennefer lifts an eyebrow, making a note to keep an eye on the two of them throughout the evening. Triss eventually lets Sabrina go and gets herself a goblet of wine, returning to link her arm through Yennefer's.
"So what brings you along this evening, Yen?" Triss sips her wine. "You usually do your utmost to avoid these things."
"I heard you might be coming," Yennefer says, lying easily. "And we have been abysmal at keeping in touch of late."
"This is true," Triss says, with a solemn nod. "I have been kept busy in Temeria, I'm afraid. Although I do try to return to Aretuza every month or so just to keep up with what's going on."
"Yen and I were just discussing Aretuza when you arrived," Sabrina puts in. "I was reassuring her that Tissaia is still in post, and much the same as ever."
"I didn't ask for reassurance of either fact," Yennefer points out. "The old bag could've fallen into the sea, or been struck by one of her own lightning bolts for all I care."
Triss gasps, placing a hand over her heart and taking a step away from Yennefer. "You don't mean that," she says.
For some reason, Triss regards Tissaia as a maternal figure. Yennefer's own mother wasn't a great yardstick, but even she knows one shouldn't hold Tissaia up as any kind of shining example of motherhood.
Yennefer takes a sip of wine, partly to obscure her face and partly to make sure her emotions are under control before she replies.
"I couldn't care less, Triss," she finally says. "I haven't seen her since the day I left Aretuza for Aedirn, and I don't plan to change that any time soon."
It's true. The last time she saw Tissaia was at the Ascension ball, looking stricken as Yennefer swooped in and changed her own destiny. That doesn't mean she hasn't given her former Rectoress any thought in that time, however. Despite her best efforts, she can't help the nagging feeling that's rarely absent from her mind, wondering what Tissaia would think about whatever she's getting up to at any given time. Would she be pleased with the progress of Yennefer's potion making? Would she still chide her for lazy casting stances and comment on every roll of her eyes?
Would she be proud of the sorceress Yennefer has become?
She shakes her head. No matter how hard she tries not to care what the Tissaia in her imagination might think, she still cares very deeply. More than she's ever cared about what Virfuril thinks, or any of her peers. It's always Tissaia she's trying to please.
"Seems like that plan is scuppered," Sabrina murmurs, her eyes on the door.
"Hmmm?" Yennefer asks, trying to remember what they were saying before her mind drifted. She looks over at the entrance, just as the announcer speaks.
"Tissaia De Vries, Rectoress of Aretuza."
Yennefer is grateful that she isn't drinking at this exact second, as she would surely have spat wine all over Triss from shock.
"Fuck," she whispers, her eyes glued to Tissaia as she descends the staircase with no escort, poised and imperious as ever.
Her gown is a deep turquoise, the cut somewhat less severe than the ones Yennefer associates with her. The skirt is less starched, flowing around her as she walks. The bodice is fitted, but gone are the buttons and high collar. Instead, the neckline dips low in a semi-circle, replacing harsh lines with soft, inviting curves. Her hair is different too, held in a complicated knot at the nape of her neck, but with strands hanging loose around her face, softening her razor sharp features.
"Are you alright, Yen?" Triss' voice drags her from her appraisal and she turns to see Triss lookin at her with concern.
"Yes." Yennefer rasps out. "I'm fine. Why?"
"You made the strangest noise just now," Triss says, glancing at Sabrina for confirmation. "I thought perhaps you were in pain." She rubs Yennefer's arm. "But I think perhaps it was just…surprise."
"Tissaia has her own arsenal on display, it seems," Sabrina notes, bumping her shoulder against Yennefer's as they watch Tissaia make the expected greetings.
"Wh-what?" Yennefer glares at her. "I'm not- I wasn't-"
"Mmhmm," Sabrina shakes her head, not bothering to hide her amusement. "You always were quite taken with her tits, if I remember rightly."
"I was not!" Yennefer protests. "You're the one who liked speculating on whether or not she had them enhanced!"
"Yes, but I never fantasised about burying my face in them," Sabrina says.
"I did not fant-" Yennefer's denial is cut off by a familiar voice, one she hasn't heard in years, except in her dreams.
"Good evening, girls."
She turns to find Tissaia approaching, a soft smile playing at her lips. Blood rushes to Yennefer's cheeks, hoping that Tissaia hadn't overheard their conversation.
"Tissaia!" Triss rushes forward and embraces the Rectoress, who is briefly surprised by the embrace, but allows it, patting Triss' back.
"It's been many years since we were girls," Sabrina points out, when Triss finally lets go of Tissaia.
"You'll always be my girls," Tissaia says, moving in to kiss Sabrina's cheek, squeezing her upper arms.
Yennefer's throat is completely dry, and she can't remember what to do with her hands. She had pictured this meeting many times in her mind. In her imagination, she had always been the one to make an entrance, drawing every gaze to her. Their eyes would meet across the room, neither of them willing to make the first move, until Tissaia could stand it no more and would approach Yennefer, begging her forgiveness.
It was not like this, with Yennefer reduced to a quaking schoolgirl, unsure of herself in the face of her former mentor.
Stepping away from Sabrina, Tissaia finally turns to her. She lifts her chin and smiles.
"Yennefer," she says, and Yennefer's knees almost give way. With supreme effort, she manages to stay on her feet, and gives Tissaia a nod, pleased with the height advantage she now has over the other woman, allowing her to look down her nose.
"Tissaia," she replies, her voice almost even.
"Triss," Sabrina says, out of nowhere. "I see someone I simply must introduce you to." She flashes a smile at Yennefer, ignoring her glare. "If you'll excuse us for a few moments."
"Of course," Tissaia says.
You fucking bitch.
Sabrina drags Triss away, turning to cast a glance over her shoulder. She has the audacity to wink at Yennefer.
"You're looking well," Tissaia says.
"Of course I am," Yennefer says. "Giltine is a genius."
"I didn't mean-" Tissaia shakes her head, her eyes closing briefly. "I'm glad to see you. It's been too long."
"Yes, well-" Yennefer is thrown. "I didn't think I'd be welcomed back to Aretuza with open arms by the Brotherhood after…what happened." That's not what she wanted to say. She had wanted to be haughty and aloof and uncaring.
"Aretuza is my domain, Yennefer," Tissaia says. "And my girls are always welcome there."
A lump forms in Yennefer's throat, unexpectedly. She hates Aretuza. She has no desire to return there. And yet, it's the one place she could even vaguely think of as a home. She finished growing up there. She found her place in the world, found her power and her strength there. It's more of a home than Aedirn will ever be. She clears her throat and nods, not trusting her voice. Perhaps recognising her struggle, Tissaia turns to look out at the gathering.
"King Virfuril is pleased with you. He always speaks highly of you."
Yennefer spins to look at her. "You speak to him?"
"Of course," Tissaia says, her eyes on the couples dancing. "It is my duty to monitor all the court assignments." She turns to meet Yennefer's eyes. "Do you think I just send girls out into the world and leave them to their own devices?"
"But- you-" Yennefer shakes her head. "You've been visiting Aedirn these past few years and not once have you called on me?"
"As you mentioned," Tissaia says. "Our parting was not on good terms. And you had not invited me to visit." She swallows and looks away. "Had you needed my assistance, I would have come. But you have carried out your duties well." She offers Yennefer a small smile. "As I knew you would."
The gaping chasm in her chest closes a little, as it always did when Tissaia offered her any praise. She lifts her chin and sniffs, fighting the blush threatening to colour her cheeks.
"And I suppose you view my success as a vindication of your teaching methods?" Yennefer asks.
Tissaia makes a noise at the back of her throat, like disappointment. "Not everything has to be a fight, Yennefer," she says, after a moment. "You could take the comment as it was intended, as acknowledgement of your skill and hard work."
Yennefer clenches her teeth together, fighting the urge to dispute the words, to push back at them.
"But you never were very good at accepting praise," Tissaia notes.
"I would put that down to a lack of practice," Yennefer spits. "Since so rarely in my life have I been given an-"
Tissaia reaches out and takes hold of her wrist, stopping her tongue with the unexpected gesture. She looks up into her eyes and sees no censure, but something else. A plea.
"Then start now," Tissaia says. "Start accepting compliments and believing them." When Yennefer goes to interject, Tissaia cuts her off. "Not the flatteries of court life, where poisoned honey drips from lips. You know the difference, Yennefer."
Again, the desire to rail against this assessment of her character flares up. Then Tissaia strokes a thumb across the scar on her wrist, and the fight leaves her. She sighs.
"Thank you," she whispers, earning a small smile and a nod, before Tissaia lets go of her and they turn to look out at the gathering once more.
Yennefer's gaze lands on her treacherous schoolmates, off on the other side of the ballroom, talking to some duke or other. Or rather, Triss is talking to him. Sabrina is looking at Triss in what could be admiration, but could equally be distress, so difficult is it to read her expressions.
"Do you think Sabrina will ever gather the courage to tell Triss she likes her?" she asks, to lighten the air around them and lessen the intensity of their interaction.
Tissaia hums. "With Sabrina, I'm not sure courage is the problem," she says. "I told you once before that some mages ignore their emotions. When that is the case, they become detached from them, and they can fail to recognise how they feel, because everything becomes about what they think."
Yennefer tilts her head. Triss is laughing at something the young man has said, and Sabrina's clenched jaw muscle is visible even at this distance. Yennefer shakes her head.
"So you think she doesn't even know how she feels about Triss?"
"Oh, she knows she feels something, but she probably hasn't been able to name it quite yet," Tissaia says, with a soft smile in Sabrina's direction. "Give her a decade." Her smile turns mischievous. "Or two."
"Poor thing," Yennefer says, feeling genuine sympathy for Sabrina for perhaps the first time in her life.
"I envy her, in some ways," Tissaia says, surprising Yennefer, who had thought the conversation would end there.
"How so?" She turns to Tissaia, who does likewise. Yennefer's breath catches when their eyes meet and her heart speeds up in a most annoying fashion.
Tissaia tilts her head. "Don't you think it would be easier not to feel everything so deeply?" she asks, her voice lowered. "To be able to function on a solely logical, rational basis?"
"How can you say that?" Yennefer asks. "I've watched girls electrocute themselves and lie twitching at your feet, without you batting an eyelid. I've watched you turn girls into eels without a second thought. If you want a life devoid of emotion, Tissaia, then you have one."
"Do you really think I do not feel those things?" Tissaia asks. She takes a step towards Yennefer, hands clasped tightly at her waist. "I feel every single one of them. Every life I take, every ounce of pain I cause." She places a hand on her chest. "I feel it all."
"Then you do so without showing it," Yennefer points out.
"What would be the good of me weeping at every hurt?" Tissaia asks. "I have been alive long enough to learn that death and pain are inevitable, and weeping does nothing to alter that."
"But it would show compassion? It would show that you care!" Yennefer whispers, her breath coming quickly.
"If I did not care, I would not do the things I do to protect my girls," Tissaia says, her voice matching Yennefer's in volume and tone. "I would not have kept the secret of your elven blood. I would not have campaigned for your return to Aedirn. I would have allowed you to think I betrayed your trust. And I would not have spent these last years defending you against the Brotherhood's wishes to have you removed from your post and punished." She swallows. "If I give the outward appearance of logical, rational calm, then it is only through centuries of cultivating that facade, and not because I feel those emotions less keenly."
Yennefer has to look away, blinking back the tears that have sprung to her eyes. She had meant only to provoke Tissaia a little, not to get into some heated debate with her. And certainly not for her to reveal that she has protected Yennefer for longer than she has known. She sniffs and presses her lips together. A gentle hand touches her back and strokes it.
"As I was saying, wouldn't it be useful to be a little more like Sabrina right now?" Tissaia murmurs. The humour is so unexpected that Yennefer barks out a laugh, snorting and covering her mouth until Tissaia leads her to a darkened corner, offering her a handkerchief and looking away while she sorts herself out. Once her eyes are dry and her nose clean, she offers the delicate handkerchief back to Tissaia who shakes her head.
"Keep it," she says.
Yennefer folds it carefully, noting a small bird embroidered in one of its corners. A Skylark, if she's not mistaken. She places it inside her dress just as Triss and Sabrina return.
"We could hardly find you," Triss exclaims. "Why are you hidden away over here?"
"Yennefer had a small fit of coughing," Tissaia says, smoothly. "I thought it best to allow her some privacy to recover from it."
Sabrina meets Yennefer's eyes and lifts an eyebrow, clearly not believing this.
Leave it, Yennefer sends to her, mentally.
Sabrina smirks, but nods.
"We could scarcely escape the Duke's conversation," Triss carries on. "He insisted that we each agree to a dance with him later in the evening, didn't he Sabrina?"
"Yes," Sabrina grits out. "Although my invitation was only out of politeness, I'm sure."
"As I would imagine most of your invitations are, Sabrina," Yennefer says, with a simpering smile.
"Girls," Tissaia warns.
"And what of you, Tissaia?" Triss asks. "Will you be joining in with the dancing?"
"I doubt it," Tissaia says with a smile. "I've done my fair share of dancing. And who would favour me with an invitation to dance when there are beautiful young sorceresses like yourselves in the room?"
"You're still quite spritely," Yennefer puts in. "For your age."
Tissaia rolls her eyes, the edge of her mouth twitching. "And what do you know of my age?"
"It was much discussed when we were attending Aretuza," Triss says. "There was a betting pool, if I remember."
"Gambling, Triss?" Tissaia lifts her eyebrows. "Who won?"
"Me," Sabrina says, her smile sliding into smugness. "I said you'd never tell us."
"Clever girl," Tissaia says, with an approving nod, and Yennefer is suddenly fourteen again, wanting to claw Sabrina's eyes out.
"Actually, Tissaia, there's something else we've always wondered," Triss begins, because Triss can say things to people that no-one else would get away with. "What did you have changed at your Enchantment?"
"It seems I was the subject of much discussion," Tissaia says. "Perhaps you should all have been more focussed on your studies."
"We can assume you didn't think to ask to be taller?" Yennefer asks, hiding her smile at Tissaia's scowl. "Unless you were worryingly short to begin with?"
"The Enchantment was far more rudimentary when I ascended," Tissaia says. "You should all be grateful to have had Giltine's skill at your disposal."
"So you had nothing…enhanced?" Sabrina asks, grinning at Yennefer.
"To what are you ref-" Tissaia begins, but Yennefer grasps her arm.
"Oh, listen, I do love this piece, shall we dance?" Without giving Tissaia a chance to respond, Yennefer drags her onto the dancefloor and assumes the position traditionally taken by a man; holding one of Tissaia's hands and placing the other on her hip.
"One really should wait for an answer to an invitation to dance, Yennefer," Tissaia complains, but slips into her expected role, gliding into the first steps to the beat of the music. Yennefer wonders a little too late if having Tissaia pressed against her as they dance is perhaps a little more awkward than having a conversation about her breasts.
"Well, your pitiful story about no-one asking you to dance clearly moved me, Rectoress," Yennefer says, as they spin and twirl around the other couples. She notes with satisfaction that the threads in her skirt flicker in the candlelight as she had imagined they would.
"I'm sure it did," Tissaia notes with a smile. "Or was it more that you wanted to get me away from Sabrina's questioning, I wonder?"
Yennefer rolls her eyes. "For which you should be thanking me, rather than chastising me."
"The answer you're all looking for is far more mundane than your imaginings," Tissaia says, with a smile. "As I said, it was a rudimentary exercise to remove the worst of imperfections and to slow down the process of ageing. I had a few minor blemishes removed, but that's all." She lifts an eyebrow. "Contrary to Sabrina's belief, the rest is all me."
Of course, Yennefer's treacherous eyes dip away from Tissaia's face to her chest.
"Yes, even those."
"Fuck," Yennefer whispers, almost losing her footing, but managing to find it again before embarrassing them both.
Tissaia squeezes her hand. "So you can report that back to your friends if you wish, or leave them wondering."
Just like the time Tissaia had let her in on the secret of the eels, Yennefer feels a warm glow in her chest at having this piece of information. It feels special and intimate, and not something she wants to share with the others, even though it might shut Sabrina up for a while.
The music comes to an end, and Yennefer finds herself saddened to have to let go of Tissaia to step back and bow.
Tissaia smiles at her. "Thank you," she says. "For the dance. And for coming tonight. It really has been too long since we have seen each other."
Nodding, Yennefer smiles. "Well, since you've been coming to Aedirn anyway, perhaps next time you could call on me and we could take tea together?"
"I would enjoy that very much," Tissaia says.
A pleased flutter goes through Yennefer's chest and she dips her head to hide any evidence of it on her face. An hour earlier and the thought of taking tea with Tissaia would have filled her with dread. Or, at least, she would have told herself it did. But now it is a promise of a brighter future, where she is not so isolated and uncared for as she had previously thought.
"Come," Tissaia says. Yennefer looks up to find her offering an arm. "We should get back to Sabrina. I fear she may be in need of consolation."
Yennefer looks over to where they had left them, but finds only Sabrina, arms crossed and mouth set in a straight line. A glance around the room reveals Triss being led up to dance by the Duke they had been conversing with earlier, smiling and talking animatedly.
"Poor Sabrina," Yennefer says. "Imagine being in love with someone and not even realising it."
"Imagine," Tissaia says, with a strange smile. "As I said, give her a decade."
"Or two," Yennefer puts in.
Tissaia nods, her eyes dancing in the light of the torches on the walls. "Or two."