‘Illusions are what you think about. What you fear. And what you dream of.’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ The vixen barked softly. And metamorphosed. Dark, violet eyes, blazing in a pale, triangular face. A tornado of jet-black locks falling onto her shoulders, gleaming, reflecting light like peacock’s feathers, curling and rippling with every movement. The mouth, marvellously thin and pale under her lipstick. A black velvet ribbon on her neck, on the ribbon an obsidian star, sparkling and sending thousands of reflections around . . . Yennefer smiled. And the Witcher touched her cheek. And then the
...more
