“Don’t struggle, my little witcher.” She smiled spitefully. “It’s pointless. You’ve got a strong will and quite a bit of resistance to magic but you can’t contend with me and my spell. And don’t act out a farce for me; don’t try to charm me with your hard and insolent masculinity. You are the only one to think you’re insolent and hard. You’d do anything for me in order to save your friend, even without spells at that. You’d pay any price. You’d lick my boots. And maybe something else, too, if I unexpectedly wished to amuse myself.”
