The Heart of Winter || The Witcher

Chapter Five

"I left him there, Zoltan. I just left him there," Ciri sniffled disconsolately.

Zoltan finished up the last stitch in Ciri's arm and stepped back, looking her in the eyes with a sympathetic glance. "There was nothing you could have done."

Ciri had returned a short while before, shamefaced and devastated, hating herself once again. She was thankful for once that Dandelion hadn't been having any customers due to the weather. She didn't think she could handle putting on a cheerful face to make it through the crowd. As it was, she had flung her sword into the corner as soon as she had entered the Chameleon, disgusted and frustrated with herself.

At the time, Zoltan had been sitting by the hearth reading a book and had startled at her sudden entrance and behavior. He had rushed over immediately—Ciri admittedly had been in quite a state, covered in blood and soot and weary from travel. Despite her protests, he had sat her down to tend to her wounds. Clearly sensing that she was distraught, Zoltan had kept a patient silence.

Ciri had tried to keep herself together, but she hadn't lasted long before she had burst into tears and Zoltan had simply held her while she sobbed into his shoulder. Only once she had settled slightly had he resumed his ministrations and Ciri told him what had happened.

Now she met his gaze, still puffy-eyed and snuffly, unready to forgive herself for abandoning Geralt for a second time. "I panicked. I didn't know what to do. But I should have done something, anything. And for all I know, he could—" Her throat caught at the words. "—he could be..." She couldn't bring herself to say it.

"He's not," Zoltan stated with conviction. "You know he's not. It's going to take a lot more than that to stop Geralt."

"Either way, there had to have been something I could have done."

Zoltan placed his hands on his hips, his tone suddenly snippy. "Tell me. What could you have done?"

The new sternness to Zoltan's voice shook Ciri out of her weepiness. "I...I could have gone for help," Ciri answered fumblingly.

"And put other people's lives in danger?" Zoltan argued, raising an eyebrow. "Do you really think they would have stood a chance against Geralt?"

"Fine. Then I could have at least stayed with him. If we had him with us, we could have tried to help him."

"And what would you have done when that other man arrived? Who knows how many men could have been coming in behind him? If you had stayed, we could have lost you too."

"I don't know then!" Ciri shouted defensively. "I...I don't know," she added more quietly, mind spinning. She didn't fully understand why she was arguing so fervently against Zoltan when all he was trying to do was comfort her. And he was only making the same arguments she had made with herself at the time. She supposed deep down, she didn't feel she deserved to be comforted. Not after everything Geralt had been through to protect her. She had been the one to get captured in the first place. She should be the one paying for it.

"Look at me." Zoltan grabbed her by the shoulders, a feat only possible because she was still seated. He spoke gently and slowly, enunciating each word. "There was nothing you could have done."

His words brought a new wave of tears burning into Ciri's eyes.

"It was more than that though. I was afraid of him," Ciri admitted, ashamed. There was no reason why she should have been afraid of him, the man she considered her father. The fact that she felt even an inkling of fear left nothing but shame in her heart.

"I should think so," Zoltan responded straightforwardly, not understanding the depth of Ciri's emotion. "He's a dangerous man. He could have killed you."