Geralt’s self-effacing thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a sharp inhalation.

He’s heard about my strange scar and my impulsivity. He’s heard that I’m cursed, that I’m the bastard son of the King and Sycorax the sea witch. He knows about my hair and the strangeness of my eyes. He must have heard the rumors, Geralt frowns, his head lowering of its own accord until he’s staring at the ground, his arms crossing self-consciously over the front of his chest. People here in the Southern Kingdom have different movement patterns than his own people and Geralt focuses on that singular detail as he hears the voice continue: “What if I simply refuse to accept the marriage contract and leave before the wedding vows are spoken? It’s not like Papa can make me go through with it if I really don’t want to.” The voice grows louder as the speaker comes closer and Geralt feels the ripples of two approaching figures as they flow through the water to batter gently against his skin. Geralt’s fanlike fins are trembling with nerves and he tries with all his might to make them to stop the young Prince of the Northern Sea doesn’t want to appear cowardly before his betrothed, whose tone seems imperious even from such a distance. His words echo down the long hallway that separates the royal family’s private living chambers from the rest of the Southern palace. “I don’t want to meet him,” Geralt hears the stranger yelling. Tw: Geralt’s canon-typic self-loathing, misunderstandings with a happy ending

The Fairy Next Book by Ellie Aiden