Chapter 30: THE LION'S COURT — Part 2
Guards drew swords. Nobles scrambled backward. Calanthe rose from her throne, fury transforming her beautiful face into something terrifying.
"You DARE!" Her voice cut through the chaos. "You dare invoke ancient law to claim MY granddaughter? Guards—remove this creature!"
Steel flashed as armored men closed on Duny. He didn't run. Didn't fight. Just stood there, facing the oncoming violence with the resignation of someone who'd expected nothing else.
"The Law of Surprise is binding." Geralt stepped forward, his voice carrying the weight of centuries. "If the claim is true—if Roegner made this promise—then it cannot be broken without consequence."
Calanthe turned her fury on him. "And who asked your opinion, Witcher?"
"No one. But I've seen what happens when ancient laws are violated. The consequences aren't pretty."
I pushed through the crowd, positioning myself at Geralt's shoulder. The timing had to be perfect—I couldn't be far from him when the moment came.
"Grandmother, stop!"
Pavetta's voice rang out, high and desperate. She'd risen from her seat, hands outstretched toward the guards closing on Duny.
"Pavetta, sit down."
"I love him!"
The words dropped like stones into still water. Ripples of shock spread through the assembled nobles.
"You love—" Calanthe's expression shifted from rage to something more complex. Betrayal. Confusion. The particular pain of a grandmother discovering her heir's heart belonged elsewhere. "That's impossible. You've never met—"
"We've been meeting in secret for months." Pavetta's chin lifted, defiance replacing desperation. "He came to the castle. He showed me who he is beneath the curse. And I chose him. Not because of any law—because of love."
The guards hesitated, caught between orders and revelation.
Duny looked at Pavetta with an expression that made my chest ache. Pure, unguarded love. The kind I'd only read about, never experienced.
Focus. The moment is coming.
Calanthe's hand moved toward her sword. "This changes nothing. The curse proves he's unworthy. My granddaughter will not be bound to a monster."
"He's not a monster!" Pavetta's voice cracked—and something else cracked with it.
The air changed. Pressure built, invisible but tangible, like the moment before lightning strikes.
"Pavetta—" Mousesack, the court druid, stepped forward with alarm. "Your power—control it—"
She couldn't.
The scream that tore from Pavetta's throat carried more than sound. Magic exploded outward—not the focused spells of trained mages, but raw, Elder-Blood power that had never been properly controlled. Wind howled through the great hall. Nobles were thrown from their feet like leaves. A table flew past my head—
Evasion Instinct seized my body, throwing me sideways.
I hit the floor, rolled, came up running. The magical tempest made thought nearly impossible. Chairs, tapestries, people—everything not anchored was spinning in a deadly vortex centered on Pavetta.
Geralt was fighting through it, anchoring himself with Witcher strength, pushing toward the source. I could see his plan—reach the princess, break her concentration, end the destruction before someone died.
I can help. Stage 3—calming influence—
I started singing.
The melody fought against the wind, barely audible over the chaos. But I pushed power into it—not the terror and fear I'd used on the Striga, but its opposite. Calm. Peace. The assurance that everything would be alright.
My voice found Pavetta through the storm. I saw her head turn, confusion breaking her focus. The winds faltered.
Geralt reached her, gathered her in his arms, spoke words I couldn't hear. Between his presence and my melody, the tempest died.
Silence crashed over the hall like a wave. Nobles groaned, picking themselves up from the wreckage. Guards struggled to their feet. Calanthe stood untouched—the druid Mousesack had shielded her—but her expression was blank with shock.
Pavetta collapsed against Geralt, sobbing. Duny rushed to her side, cursed face wet with tears.
Now. It has to be now.
Geralt stepped back as Duny took over, letting the lovers cling to each other in the ruins of the celebration. The curse was broken—as Pavetta's power had surged, something had shifted in Duny's features. The spines were receding, melting back into human skin.
"The curse lifts at midnight," Mousesack said wonderingly. "True love, freely given. That was always the key."
Duny looked up, fully human now, his face ordinary but suffused with joy. "I owe you my thanks, Witcher. Both for ending the storm and for speaking on my behalf." He glanced at me. "And you, bard—your song helped calm her. Name whatever reward you desire."
This is it.
Geralt was already shaking his head. "I don't want—"
"Ancient law binds this," I said quickly. "You invoked the Law of Surprise to claim Pavetta. The same law demands that debts be paid in kind."
I saw understanding flicker in Geralt's eyes. He knew what words came next.
"Then I'll claim by the same law," he said. "Give me that which you have but do not know."
Exactly. Simultaneously.
"—that which you have but do not know."
Our voices overlapped perfectly. The same words, the same moment, two claims spoken as one.
Duny blinked, confusion crossing his newly-human features. "You both spoke—"
Pavetta's hand went to her belly. Instinct, not thought. The gesture of a woman who'd recently discovered something about her own body.
She's pregnant. She just realized it. And we both claimed her child.
The silence that followed was absolute.
Calanthe's voice broke it. "What trickery is this? Two claims for one prize?"
"The Law is ancient," Mousesack said slowly. "I've never heard of dual invocation. But if both spoke simultaneously, with equal intent..." He trailed off, clearly uncertain.
Geralt turned to me. His golden eyes held dangerous suspicion.
"You spoke with me," he said quietly. "Exactly with me. The same words at the same instant." His voice dropped lower, meant only for my ears. "How did you know what I was going to say?"
My legs wanted to buckle. The magical storm, the power I'd expended calming Pavetta, the sheer weight of what had just happened—it pressed down on me like a physical force. I locked my knees and stayed upright through pure stubbornness.
"We should discuss this elsewhere," I said. "Preferably before the queen decides to execute us both."
Calanthe was indeed watching us with the expression of someone calculating the fastest way to make problems disappear. But ancient law, witnessed by half her court, couldn't be ignored without consequences.
"You will explain this," Geralt said. Not a request.
"I will. I promise." And I meant it—though the explanation would be carefully constructed, revealing only what was necessary. "But first, we need to survive the next hour."
We retreated from the ruined hall as servants began clearing debris and nobles whispered behind their hands. Somewhere in Pavetta's belly, a child was forming—a child now bound by the Law of Surprise to both a Witcher and a bard.
Ciri. My purpose. Our shared destiny.
I did it. The claim is made.
But Geralt's suspicious eyes told me the hard part was just beginning.
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