Nadine's quiet a moment, looking off towards the farmland and forest. What sort of answer to give? Dismissive and curt? Or something honest? Geralt has never shown any inclination to judge or make assumptions. He already knows more of her than most.

"My husband. Randall. I knew him most of my life. He...looked out for me, when I was young. Before there was anything romantic."

She'd known from the start that she'd marry him, but when she was young it had only been a vague idea of something in the future. And he'd never made it more than that. Oh, he'd influenced her in other ways, but in those years he'd been more like an imaginary friend - only one that was real.

"I, uh, knew I was different since I was a kid. I still honestly don't know exactly how, or why, but." Nadine shrugs. Even Randall hadn't had the answers, beyond some greater force than even him had ordained it so. She had been chosen, she was the special one.

But apparently whatever force had chosen her fate wasn't as strong as Thornean magics.

"It was just us against the world for a really long time, is my point."