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"Yennefer," he called after her. "Where are we going now?" A few people looked at him, hearing a foreign language, but she did not.
"Yen!"
"What do you want?"
"Can we slow down?"
"Not if we want to see the town hall before nightfall."
"My leg hurts."
She turned her head slightly over her shoulder, between waves of dark curls a violet eye shimmered with subdued excitement. She stopped.
"Knee?"
"Knee."
"I told you that you are overworking yourself."
"That's not it."
"Oh, that's very much it. Don't try to evade this."
"I am not going to argue now."
She snorted angrily. "Better you not. Do you want me to take the bag?"
"Nah, I'm fine. That's not the problem."
She pursed her lips. "As you wish. Come. We don't have much time."
She didn't rush as before, but she still walked ahead of him, leading the way with a steady stride. People would part when they saw her. They both looked out of place here. For him it was mostly the clothes, but she looked completely like an alien. Paleness wasn't fashionable in the deep south, even for nobles it seemed. While the witcher got some tan working in the fields, the sorceress avoided the sun at all costs. And now people were staring.
She stopped abruptly. "Oh, there is a pharmacy. We should buy you an ointment." Geralt hummed. There was no point in arguing that the best way to heal his leg was to rest, and he held no intention of buying himself an ointment from an unknown Nilfgaardian. He didn't trust them in general. In his whole life he knew only one decent Nilfgaardian. Besides, he wasn't really fluent, and they would probably scam him. He didn't even know how to say ointment in Nilfgaardian.
"Wait a moment," the sorceress said and disappeared inside the pharmacy. He felt stupid holding her bags. It had been a stupid idea to let Yennefer buy anything before going sightseeing. She was hard to contain. The bag felt like twenty pounds. There were cosmetics, perfumes and ten different dresses impossible to obtain in the north. She even bought him a supposedly elegant shirt despite all his protests.
Witcher cursed quietly. He noticed that a few noblewomen stopped by and pointed at him with their fingers. It would be considered quite rude in the north, but he wasn't aware of local customs. He probably looked like a foreign curiosity, especially with that bag of Yennefer's.
At that exact moment she stepped out of the pharmacy. Someone walking fast down the street didn't notice her in time and bumped into her. She barely managed to stay on her feet as she stumbled back. The man who accidentally bumped into her grabbed her by the arm to hold her upright.
"Forgive me, Lady," he said in Nilfgaardian. His face froze in a courteous expression. He was relatively young, handsome and very confident. Especially since he didn't flinch under her gaze. "Are you alright? I am sorry, I didn't see you, Madame."
"Better watch how you walk," Yennefer replied in flawless Nilfgaardian. Geralt was able to understand it at a conversational level, but his accent was very thick and would always give him away. "I almost dropped my jar," she hissed.
"Forgive me, let me refund any caused damage."
"I guess you are lucky today," she grimaced slightly, looking at her purchase.
"Of course, I am lucky, Madame. Lucky to meet you on my way." He took her hand and kissed the top of it. "Let me recompense it, Lady. Will you join me for dinner?"
"I can't," she said casually.
"Madame, don't make me beg. I have an estate not far from here. I would gladly host you for tonight."
"She said no," Geralt said. With his broken accent it sounded like a bark.
The man glanced at him. "Who the hell are you?"
"Get away from my wife."
"Your wife? Is it some kind of bad joke?" For a moment he started into Geralt's face, his concern slowly growing. Nonetheless, he was quite determined to impress the sorceress.
"Don't fear, Madame. I won't let that barbarian disturb innocent damsels."
"Are you sure?" Witcher moved closer, staring right into the guy's eyes.
"Come on, Geralt," Yennefer pulled him suddenly away, switching to Common. "Don't make a scene." People were indeed staring at him. If it would had taken even a minute longer someone could go to city guards and have him arrested.
"What the hell has gotten into you," she snarled.
"He flirted with you."
"And it wouldn't be very successful."
"I know, but didn't he see the ring?"
"Rings are not very popular here. He couldn't have known. Stop fuming, Geralt. You look like a beetroot."
"Easy to say for you."
She rolled her eyes. "It's unhealthy to get angry at your age, Geralt. Remember about your heart. You were supposed to relax on vacation."
"You should have explained it to that guy, not me."
"Stop it. Give me the bag."
"No, Yen. I am alright."
"You are insufferable. I'm capable of holding my own bags, Geralt. But fine, let's only find somewhere to sit."
She pulled him gently to the side. Luckily, there was a small park with a bench shadowed by a tree. It was barely visible from the street.
"Rest," she commanded. With a light nudge he sat down.
"What are you doing, Yen?"
"Trying to help." She kneeled in front of him and started rolling up the leg of his pants.
"Yen," he hissed, but she shrugged. It didn't matter to her that people could be watching. She was always shameless in her actions.
"I will just put the ointment."
"Doesn't look like just the ointment."
"The spell is to stop the pain. And don't point like this. I'm not sure people would be okay with me performing magic in the street." Her nimble fingers brushed his kneecap. The pain dissipated. Smearing the ointment, she raised her eyes at him. "What? Something happened?"
"The guy behind, he is staring at you."
"And?"
"Are you okay with that, Yen?"
"Do you want me to do something with that?"
He didn't reply, not wanting to come as jealous. Yennefer sighed and turned around sending a glare at the man. He bulged his eyes and stumbled back. When she turned back to Geralt there was a triumphant smile on her lips.
"Feeling okay?" She asked.
"Yeah," he fixed his pants. "We can go."
"Yes, let's not waste any more time here, Witcher." She grabbed him by arm with clear intent of dragging him to wherever she wished.
"You are impossibly jealous, Geralt."
"I just hate when men stare at you."
"Don't you think I feel the same about you and other women?"
"What women? I am too old for that."
"Don't make yourself look innocent. You are drawing a lot of female gazes."
"Don't make fun of me."
She snorted angrily. "You must not realize how many women would have had their eyes scratched out if I had my way with them."
"Alright, alright. Calm down, Yen."
She huffed. "Don't try my patience."
"Not trying anything. I didn't know it bothered you." He reached out to grab her hand. It fit nicely in his and he liked walking with her like that.
"It doesn't bother me very much," she said, brushing off his touch. "No, you can't hold my hand now. It's frowned upon here." Pushing herself to tiptoes she kissed him hard, yanking his head forward.
He laughed once she let him go. "Holding hands is frowned upon but this is acceptable?"
"I didn't establish local customs here, Geralt. Oh, look. There it is."
The town hall was quite big. Made of marble and gold. It looked somewhat disappointing though. If it depended on him, he would spend vacations in the mountains or on a beach.
"Oh, that's very interesting," Yennefer said. "The architect is supposedly Larkeris aep Lenych, but it looks nothing like him. It must be one of his first projects." She turned around to pull him by the arm. He liked to watch her like this, active and restless, like a bird trying to fly up. "Are you coming or not? We have to see the other side. There is a beautiful colonnade." She certainly wasn't bored. The excitement shone in her violet eyes. He sighed quietly. He loved this woman and her peculiar character. Perhaps, this vacation wasn't as pointless as he thought.
"I'm coming, Yen."