A/N: Okay, so this chapter is a bit of filler to get to the next plot point and character development. Bear with me and apologies for any grammatical mistakes I didn't have time to do a thorough vetting of this chapter. Thank you for all your support, I love hearing from you guys. Please enjoy and review.

Disclaimer: I own what is mine.

Jade Eyes and Trees

The chill from the creek water was both refreshing and uncomfortable. Geralt held in a hiss as the frigid current rushed almost too harshly against his new and healing wounds. He wouldn't deny it felt good to remove the blood and grime from his skin, but he rather wished he had been able to do so in a warm bath. He washed quickly, not wanting to be caught in a vulnerable position. It mattered little to the witcher that Lyrra had proven herself to be a friend, he was still out in the open and despite his capabilities the years of surviving alone had his instincts screaming to move quickly. It didn't help that the cottage had a steady stream of strangers due to him stupidly walking into an unknown situation unprepared. He doubted the man who had attempted to save him would have been so direly wounded had Geralt brought more than a dagger with him. It had been careless and stupid, an act of hubris, and not one that he was typically prone to. Cold water was more than he deserved.

Grunting quietly, he gingerly removed the bandages from his shoulder and rinsed the wound. The skin had broken open slightly. Not as bad as it could have been, but still annoying. His movements felt sluggish in their haste and he bit back another hiss when he slipped against the bank of the creek.

Fuck.

A scowl painted his mien as he pulled himself out of the water and to his clothes. He didn't bother drying properly and instead yanked on his trousers and boots before sliding his dagger into his boot and another in his belt. A thin stream of blood began to trickle down his chest at his sharp movements which only deepened his scowl as he caught the faint scent of jasmine and cedar.

"I thought I told you to rest." Geralt paused in his movements and arched a brow as he turned to look over his shoulder. Lyrra stood only a few feet away, hidden by the shadows of a tree, but he still saw her. What bothered him was that he hadn't heard her approach.

She met his glare with a raised brow, "You were under the impression that I would listen?"

His glower turned exasperated as he briefly thought of how perfect she and Jaskier were for each other, "I don't need a nursemaid."

Lyrra bit back a smile as she drew closer, "What can I say, I'm a worrier."

Geralt sent her a disbelieving look before laying out the bandages and a small rag he had taken from her cottage. His shoulder wound had already clotted, but his chest was still stained with his blood and would only get worse once he applied his healing poultice. Lyrra stepped just within arm's reach and he barely graced a look to her open palm before sighing and nodding to a bag behind him, "Grab the balm inside."

He ignored the rustling behind him as Lyrra did as he bid, he noted that even that soft sound was almost nonexistent. Briefly, the thought crossed his mind that she had made noise on purpose, instinct told him that she could have removed his supplies without him being any the wiser if she so chose. The thought mulled about as she snagged his rag. Geralt sighed quietly but leaned back to give her space as she tended to his shoulder. Admittedly, the process went quicker when it was done by another set of hands, but he wasn't inclined to admit it.

He raised a brow at her as she finished tightening the bandage and handed him his shirt, "Happy?"

"Ecstatic." Lyrra intoned back with that same dry tone.

She avoided his awaiting gaze and barely kept from fidgeting as he remained silent. Geralt wasn't stupid and he was patient. Something was on the former Princess's mind, other than his wound-care. Her grey eyes flickered to his golden stare before darting away again. Where he had grown used to Jaskier prattling incessantly to fill these silences, Lyrra seemed to be more inclined to endure it.

At least until he began gathering his things together. A shuddering breath escaped her and he turned his awaiting gaze back to her face. Lyrra's mouth moved silently for a second before halting words flowed forth, "The creatures... from the Croorey House... if there are no further ones up there, Glynedol should be safe, correct?"

Geralt tilted his head as he studied her, he had the suspicion that her inquiry had different motives than the town's safety. Slowly, he gave a nod, "As safe as it's ever been anyway."

"Would that mean your business is finished here?" She asked softly, her grey gaze flickering away from his again.

Geralt blinked, "Should it be?"

He wouldn't be surprised if the locals were pushing for his departure. It wouldn't be the first time his presence had been ill-tolerated... Except his presence had been chiefly ignored in Glynedol. He had been given a few suspicious looks from a local or two, but most had level a measuring eye to him, sniffed, and then moved on with their business as if he were no more a burden than a traveling merchant.

Lyrra seemed to sense his line of thought as she grimaced faintly, "No one's demanding you leave. It's just your wound actually isn't too far from healing fully; despite the new collection of bruises you've acquired. You mentioned you'd stay as long as it took for you to heal..."

"I also said I would stay until your attacker wasn't a concern." He reminded her as he tugged his bag over his shoulder, "It's been a week and I'm not satisfied with your training progress."

Lyrra rolled her eyes and muttered something about overprotective idiots in Elder under her breath. Flushing faintly when he responded in kind about stubborn princesses.

She hummed curiously, "How many languages do you know?"

"Enough." Geralt grumbled quietly, "As for overprotective – will I get that lament when I tell you not to go to the Croorey House tomorrow?"

"Yes." Lyrra huffed with a light glare, "And I'm going anyway."

The witcher frowned, "It's dangerous."

"So's waking up, yet I do that too." Lyrra mouthed petulantly and he was tempted to smack her upside the head or make her go through a training drill.

He breathed out through his nose and began to meander back up the pathway to the cottage, "You're not going by yourself."

Another huff reached his ears, but no protest followed his words. He wasn't sure if that meant she was agreeing to his terms or was merely placating him. It didn't much matter either way. He stood by his statement; he wouldn't let her up there alone.

"Two hundred crown?" Jaskier grimaced as he looked about the cozy little inn the dice tournament was taking place. There were, maybe, thirty other potential gamblers present, surely the entry fee shouldn't be so high for this motley little crew, "Bit extreme, don't you think?"

A pallid man with wireframe rims that seem to extended passed his nose near to his mouth frowned unimpressed at the bard, "Two hundred is the buy-in. If you don't have the coin then piss off."

Jaskier scowled churlishly as he handed over his coin purse, suddenly glad he had paid for his room and board before entering the tournament. Now, he just hoped he didn't lose it all.

Wireframes handed him a green tassel to mark him as one of the players. He pulled the soft fabric through his fingers as he meandered away from the entry table. Lazily, his azure gaze flicked about the room as he took in others waiting to add themselves to the tournament and those who had already gained their green tassels. Strangely, he noted there were more than a few noblemen participating. At least Jaskier assumed they were noblemen based on the expensive cut of their clothing. Actually...

Jaskier spun languidly on his heel as he realized there weren't many who didn't look like they had a fair amount of coin... To be fair, he supposed, the buy-in for the tournament was a little extravagant, but not wholly unattainable. It did make him pause; however, he did not want to end up on the bad side of some landed gentry. Well, not through gambling anyway. Lords tended to hold grudges over lost money far fiercer than they did their wives.

"You look lost."

The bard startled slightly as a voice of warm honey breezed right by his ear. His head sharply turned more curious than alarmed, already rambling out, "No, I'm...uh..."

His words petered off as jade green eyes enraptured him and he felt a rush of air escape of his lungs as he murmured a soft, "Oh..."

The vixen before him smiled coyly. A dark lock of curly hair fell across her forehead and into her eyes and he wanted nothing more than to reach up and brush it away. She giggled lightly, "Oh?"

"Hello." He uttered, unblinkingly. His gaze devoured this woman's delicate features and smooth skin. She was stunning and he was caught unaware by the flow of arousal that suddenly spiraled through his veins, "I'm Jaskier."

A delighted trill seemed to purr from her mouth as she repeated his name, "Jaskier...Buttercup. How sweet. You're a bard."

Despite the fact that she hadn't paid him any true compliment, Jaskier's chest puffed up in diminutive pride as he replied, "I am, milady."

"Oh no, please... call me, Inara." She simpered prettily and reached out to trail her fingers lightly across the back of his hand.

Jaskier felt flushed at the contact and he swallowed tightly, suddenly unable to focus on anything other than the desirous fires that lit his veins. Somewhere a small voice screamed at him that something wasn't right, but he couldn't bring himself to listen. He nearly choked on his breath as he fought to remember how to form the words with which he made his livelihood. Finally, he managed to breathe out, "Inara..."

Her smile widened slightly in satisfaction as she proceeded to ask, "Do you sing as handsomely as you look?"

"I... uh... I." A clever retort danced at the tip of his tongue, but yet his struggle to remember how to make his voice work continued. As did the strange war of lust and hesitance waging inside him.

He was interrupted from further replying as Wire Frames made a call to the end of the participating entry. The small man's shrilly dull voice was enough to break his stare from the enchantress before him as his azure gaze swung briskly toward the front of the room. Instructions were being spoken of the tournament's rules and penalties for those caught cheating. Yet, the brief interlude was enough to cool the flames the mysterious Inara sparked.

Once again feeling in control of his faculties, Jaskier turned to address the lady but found that she had disappeared from his side. He searched almost wildly about the room but found only a man watching him intently from a far corner. He arched a curious brow but quickly followed the other gamblers into the main room. He felt unsettled and uncertain as he stood at the table for his first game.

What the fuck had he stumbled into?

It was just before the light of day that Lyrra made her escape from the cottage. She pulled on her trousers and shirt next to the creek where she had found Geralt only hours previously. Her sleep had been restless as she listened to Nyria and Myer take turns watching over Tyllan thru the night. The old blacksmith had barely given Lyrra and Geralt a glance when he arrived, his focus firmly planted on his ailing son. Lyrra was still trying to determine if his current dismissal was boon or not – worried parents were an enigma to the former princess.

Biting back a sigh, she tugged her boots on and pulled a light vest over her shirt. She had briefly considered grabbing her headscarf and hat, but the Croorey House laid on a long-neglected path. There was only overgrowth and light forest between it and her cottage, no one would see her dressed so. She had tethered her hair into a long braid, but that was more for practicality than vanity. Once she deemed herself ready for the four-mile trek she set off at a brisk pace. She hoped to be back before the rest of her cottage's inhabitants broke their fasts for the day.

Of course, best-laid plans and all that... she was halfway to her destination when she realized she was being followed. She would have panicked, the thought of her attacker still lingered in the back of her mind, if it weren't for the fact that she had a decent idea of who exactly was following her. Holding in a quiet sigh, Lyrra made her steps as quiet as possible as she trekked onward.

The foliage around the path to the Croorey House began to thicken and she knew that it wouldn't be much longer until she reached the safehouse. Quickly, she stepped off the path and began to use the shadow of the trees for cover. Despite that Geralt had killed the creatures he had encountered in this area, even he had been hesitant to say that the fleder infestation was completely clear. It was why he hadn't wanted her to come up here alone. However, he didn't understand it was quicker for her to do her work when she had no one accompanying her. Also, she had the distinct impression that the hulking witcher was beginning to put the pieces of her past together and she wasn't quite ready to divulge any more about herself to him...or Jaskier.

A small pang of guilt and hurt continued to resound in her at the thought of the bard. Lyrra knew that he was giving her space, but she hadn't expected him to vanish completely. Yet, even that seemed unfair when she realized they had been parted for less than a day. Somehow, without his chatter or quiet strumming to fill the silence, it seemed like he had been gone for much longer. It uneased her how quickly she had become used to his presence...expected it even. She had to remind herself that his absence was a good thing, even though it was beginning to make her feel wretched.

All of this played through her mind as she swiftly ducked under branches and sidestepped small dips and burrows in the ground. An ominous quiet had fallen over the section of the forest she scurried through – she was close. Unthinkingly, Lyrra leapt and grasped a low hanging branch. She dangled for a moment and then took a deep breath before gently swinging her legs.

One swing.

Her hands lifted up slightly as her legs kicked back.

Two swings.

Again. she gained a little more height.

Three...

The momentum was enough for her to heave up on top of the branch before scaling a little higher. Her arms weren't nearly as shaky as she expected them to be. It had been a long time since she had performed any type of acrobatic feats, but then trying to hold a sword against a witcher was bound to reform her muscles. She had been tediously sore the first few days of Geralt's little training regime.

With a swiftness, she didn't quite feel, Lyrra jumped from one tree to the next until she was at the edge of the Croorey property. From the ground, the old house look liked a grouping dilapidated ruins and overgrown weeds. This had been done purposefully, a marker for those who knew what to look for, and an uninteresting spot for those who didn't. However, if one climbed high enough - as Lyrra had – the view of the Croorey House became much different.

Gone was the image of the old ruined site and its place stood a modest rock and log cabin and a well. Perfect for a person, maybe two, to stay in, but not much more than that. This could only be accessed from a specific spot to the North of the house.

Not too far from the entrance, the bodies of the slain fleders and bruxa lay rotting. Lyrra grimaced at the sight but tried to keep her sharp eyes focused on the windows of the cabin. She didn't want to enter the property if she didn't have to – despite setting off without the witcher, she actually was rather averse to violent danger and had a healthy respect for staying alive. She wouldn't chance to encounter one of the foul creatures below if she could help it.

So, she stood.

Quiet and watchful.

Looking for any hint of movement or life from inside.

Nothing.

She leapt to a nearby tree as nimbly as a squirrel and viewed the property from this new vantage point.

Again nothing.

She repeated this process a few more times, but encounter no sign of someone staying in the cabin. At least no human person. She had heard of fleders before and were fairly certain that they were creatures of the night... she would need to ask Geralt, but if that were the case then she may see no movement if these creatures were resting.

Sighing, she gingerly dropped to the ground and abruptly froze as she looked up into a pair of unimpressed golden eyes. She pursed her lips, suddenly feeling like a child caught stealing sweats before hesitantly asking while gesturing to the tree, "Heard me?"

"Smelled." Geralt grumbled.

Lyrra crinkled her nose in faint disgust, "That's lovely."

A faint hint of amusement shined in his gaze before he raised a brow at her, "Well?"

It took her a moment to understand what he was asking before she replied, "I saw no one, but it is light out now... those creatures? Are they nocturnal? They may be resting."

Geralt pondered her words. Fleders were sensitive to the sun, but that didn't necessarily preclude they'd be inside. He'd rather be thorough with his check of the property. He licked his lips, "How do I get past the illusion?"

Lyrra was silent a moment. She only knew of the Croorey House because of her need of it years ago, part of her felt like a snitch to divulge its secrets now. Yet, Geralt already knew so much, giving him the last of the secrets would likely do little harm, "There's an entrance to the north. You'll see a glimmer of blue light. Enter. That's how you get inside."

Geralt nodded and pulled his sword from its sheath. She noted for the first time he was more properly clothed for a fight than he had been last night. His leather armor still had a rent in it, however. She would have him take it to Hillard to be repaired when they returned.

"You will stay here, Lyrra." Geralt ordered with a dark look. He hadn't forgotten her disregard of his instruction not to come up here alone.

To his surprise, she nodded and leaned against the trunk of the tree she had disbanded from, "Alright. Just be careful. I don't think I could get you back to Nyria by myself."

He snorted at her but kept from commenting as he slipped silently from her side. Lyrra watched after him amount before she scaled the tree again, this time to watch his progress.

Geralt was quiet...more quiet than she expected for such a large man and fast. His speed did not surprise her as much. Training with him had allowed her to be on the receiving end of his speed far too often. She observed how he quickly located the glimmer and stepped past the illusion. He seemed to pause once he had entered the property and she didn't understand why until she found his golden gaze locked on her again. A shiver spurned down her back... this was the first time she became fully aware of what a predator the witcher truly was. She had never known someone to be so aware of their surroundings.

It was vaguely terrifying.

In all, it took him maybe ten minutes to clear the property, inside and out. A look of mild consternation coated his countenance as he returned to her. Lyrra raised a brow at him from her place on a branch as she reiterated his earlier question, "Well?"

Geralt glared speculatively at her before replying dismissively, "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

The witcher said nothing. His mind elsewhere as he started the walk back into Glynedol. Lyrra stared after him, perplexed before dropping to the ground a second time and running to catch up. She didn't understand. What did Geralt mean by nothing? Was there no sign that anyone had stayed there or just no one present?

She didn't ask, not sure how to frame her questions correctly to gain the maximum information. Geralt was hardly verbal at the best of times, something she didn't ordinarily mind, but now her inquiring mind wanted to know.

She finally parsed out what she would ask when they arrived in town, but it hardly mattered as she was instantly waylaid by Hillard and Owain. Both looked grim and she suddenly feared the worse had happened to Tyllan.

She tensed at their approach and felt more than saw Geralt do the same. Hillard was the one to start, "Lass..."

"Is he dead?" Lyrra asked quietly, not liking the awkward look on either man's face.

Hillard blanched for a moment in confusion before realization took him, "No, Tyllan's still bein' watched by Nyria and Myer. It's yer boy."

"Jaskier?"

Hillard nodded, "He's left, lass."

Geralt stared intently at the barkeep over her shoulder, "What do you mean he left?"

The older man seemed to falter for a moment, having forgotten that the bard traveled with the witcher. Owain had no trouble taking over, "He mentioned somethin' about a tournament an' said he'd be back in a day or two."

"A tournament?" Lyrra muttered bemused as she tried to remember what the gossip in the Pine had been.

Geralt sounded weary as he asked, "A tournament where?"

"Bellhaven." Owain answered.

That made Lyrra's eyes spring wide. She cursed under her breath as she remembered what exact tournament the innkeeper spoke of, "The dice tournament?"

Owain shrugged and Hillard grimaced. It was all the answer that Lyrra needed as she rubbed tiredly at her face. When she looked up Geralt was watching her expectantly, "We need to go get him."

The witcher quirked a brow at her.

"Jaskier's about to be introduced to Toussaint's Syndicate." She all but mumbled.

Geralt stared at her for a moment before heaving a sigh and quietly cursing...Fuck.