For answer, he picked her up and kissed her. It was every bit as good as the dreams. It was better. It was. . . . When he finally set her down, she clung to his arms; her knees did not seem to be working properly. “My Lady Aiel Egwene Aes Sedai,” he said, “I love you, and I cannot wait for you to bond me.” Shedding mock formality, he added in a softer tone, “I love you, Egwene al’Vere. You said you wanted a favor. What? The moon on a necklace? I’ll set a goldsmith to work within the hour. Stars to wear in your hair? I will—”

“Don’t tell Coiren or the others that I am here. Don’t mention me to them at all.”

She expected some hesitation, but he simply said, “They’ll not learn of you from me. Or from anyone else, can I help it.” He paused a moment, then took her by the shoulders. “Egwene, I will not ask why you’re here. No, just listen. I know Siuan mired you in her schemes, and I understand that you feel loyalty to a man from your own village. That doesn’t matter. You should be in the White Tower, studying; I remember them all saying you were going to be a powerful Aes Sedai one day. Do you have a plan for returning without . . . penalties?” She shook her head wordlessly, and he went on in a rush. “Maybe I can think of something, if you don’t first. I know you had no choice but to obey Siuan, but I doubt Elaida will give that much weight; even mentioning the name Siuan Sanche around her is nearly as much as your head is worth. I will find some way, somehow. I swear it. But promise me that until I do you will not . . . do anything foolish.” His hands tightened for a moment almost to the point of pain. “Just promise me you will be careful.”

Light, but this was a fine pickle. She could not tell him she had no intention of returning to the Tower as long as Elaida sat on the Amyrlin Seat. And something foolish almost certainly meant anything to do with Rand. He looked so worried. For her. “I will be careful, Gawyn. I promise.” As careful as I can be, she amended to herself; it was only a small change, but somehow it made what she had to say next more difficult. “I have a second favor to ask. Rand did not kill your mother.” How could she word this to put the least strain on him? Strain or no, she had to. “Promise me you will not raise a hand against Rand until I can prove he didn’t.”

“I swear.” Again no hesitation, but his voice was rough, and his hands squeezed again briefly, harder than before. She did not flinch; the slight pain felt like a repayment for the pain she was causing him.