The witcher shakes his head at Lan Wangji, and listens in silence.

Ciri glances back at Geralt. "Only, the last time, instead of the tower..." She smiles, and her eyes warm. "I saw your grizzled face. If not for the scar over your eye, I'd have thought I was still dreaming."

Geralt studies her for a long moment, as though he can't get enough of seeing her features, then looks down. The expression in his eyes is hollow and desolate. "I was afraid you were dead," he says, low. "Found some dwarves here. Said they'd tried to wake you, but you were cold as ice, and you weren't breathing."

"And yet you came in," she murmurs. "Both of you."

Geralt glances up. "Well," he says, trying for humor. "Who listens to dwarves these days?"