Chapter 111

Coral’s private quarters at the Temple of Melitele faithfully upheld the standards of a sorceress’s bedchamber. It boasted luxurious furnishings, a mahogany vanity, a dazzling array of cosmetics, crystal jewelry, an enormous storage chest, a megascope, and a large bed draped in purple velvet. The only oddity was the walls, which were incongruously adorned with beast furs.

With a slight wave of her hand, Coral summoned a medium-sized stag hide into her grasp. Roy stood amidst the room’s heavy feminine scent, right by the bed, watching her with a touch of nerves.

Since yesterday, the boy had lost control of his eyes. It was as if the sorceress carried a lodestone...

Seated on the bed, Coral wore exquisite makeup—rouge, lipstick, nail polish, and amethyst earrings were all in place, along with an obsidian necklace. She had changed into a pale blue gauze dress. The style was novel and bold, supported at the midriff by only two crossed strips of cloth, exposing a large expanse of smooth, resilient skin at her wasp waist.

He couldn’t help sniffing the air, taking in the refreshing fragrance emanating from the sorceress. Every sorceress had her signature scent and spent a fortune on it. Yennefer was known for lilac and gooseberries; one smelled her before seeing her. Lytta Neyd’s scent of freesia and apricot was equally unforgettable.

“All right...” Coral stared at the large hole in the side of his tunic. “I know a thing or two about cutting and sewing. This stag hide will do. I’ll tailor your doublet to fit better and look more presentable, and patch that ugly hole while I’m at it.”

“Er...” The large purple bed made him anxious.

“Let’s talk in the laboratory. If the clothes are torn, I can just buy new ones...”

“Are you afraid of troubling me?” Coral laughed. “No need. I’ll handle it with a mending spell. It’s convenient.”

Coral’s pale hand slowly brushed over the hole in the leather armor at Roy’s waist. She whispered a spell. Roy felt only a cool breeze, and the hole vanished, while a matching piece disappeared from the stag hide.

“Magic—a miraculous and convenient thing!”

“Perhaps you wouldn’t think so if you were entangled in it,” Coral murmured. “Now, take off your clothes, lad!”

“Ah...” Roy’s heart skipped a beat. “Isn’t the clothing already mended? Besides, Letho is waiting for me. I can’t keep him waiting!”

“Ignore that brute.” Coral’s bright blue eyes swept over him, lingering on his slightly pointed ears. “You haven’t said it, but I know you’re a quarter-elf. Don’t waste the elegance in your bloodline by acting like a slobbering barbarian. I’ll use my fashionable eye to alter your clothes into something more ‘decent’.”

“I guarantee when you walk through the temple hall later, you’ll catch the eye of every girl there!”

“Forget it ... I’m a Witcher. I fight and kill all day. Fancy clothes don’t last.” Roy never liked flashy garbs; utility came first.

“You know you can’t resist me...”

Resigned, Roy stripped off his leather armor and shirt. His shoulders, back, chest, and abdomen—his entire upper body—were covered in large, bloody bruises. Most were healing, but some were fresh.

This was the accumulated “result” of over a month of training. Coral’s cool fingers lightly touched a wound. The boy frowned in pain but gritted his teeth and remained silent.