New York, Ciri repeats the place in her head, but it doesn’t ring any bells. Not that that was terribly unusual, she had hardly been everywhere. Still whatever she meant to ask was derailed when it seemed that Credence did recognize somewhere she’d been.

"I did," she confirms, a light of excitement and curiosity in her eyes, but sadness too. “Do you know it? There was a man I met there when I arrived, in a lake, a good man- " Here, Ciri’s cheeks flush, and she hopes it is not so noticeable that it can’t be explained away by the cold, just as the slight shine of wet in her eyes might be hidden. “He invited me to court there, for a time.” Too short a time. Dear Galahad.