Fingers squeezed tighter and yanked Jaskier backward with enough strength to pull him straight to the floor. Geralt's other hand wrapped around his belt even as he was twisting on the floor, pulling the bard closer. "Listen here," he snarled before his expression drew in and his grip slackened. "Jaskier," he coughed. It was like a single, deep draw of oxygen. The roar was distant, the tide sucking at him even as he fought forward. Behind them, the servant girl sobbed. The sound was hollow in the high-ceilinged room. "Jaskier, do what you need--" and then another shudder rolled through him and Geralt shoved the bard away from him with every strength he had before he lost his grip on the slippery, algae-slick rocks in his mind and was pulled under again.

He crawled onto all four slowly, like a dog, and shook his head before drawing himself up.