[ That's not the reaction he expects from her. It shows in the furrow of his brows. She's weighed on him for a long time—both the uncertainty of her fate and the fact that, either way, he's failed to find her.

She believes it so damn easily, that he has. Even if he has absolutely no memory of it or her or the years they've apparently spent together.

When he finally answers, it's quiet, though not without an undercurrent of irony. ] Destiny.

[ He can admit there's something that's brought him and Yennefer and Jaskier here together. Something he can't rationally explain. The Continent is vast. The chances of falling through this mirrored rift is infinitely small. And yet, here they are. The three of them.

Four now. ]

Suppose I can't doubt I was the one who taught you. [ He gestures at her sword. There's no mistaking a Witcher's fighting style. For the briefest moment, he feels a sudden inexplicable longing for a memory of that. He pushes it aside. He's never wanted a child and he'd only meant to take her somewhere safe. Not to raise her as his own. But... ] You must've stayed with us awhile. Or you learned quickly.