Nynaeve’s room was considerably larger than the novice rooms. She had a real bed, not one built into the wall, two ladder-back armchairs instead of a stool, and a wardrobe for her clothes. The furnishings were all plain, suitable for a middling successful farmer’s house, but compared to the novices, the Accepted lived in luxury. There was even a small rug, woven with scrolls of yellow and red on blue. The room was not empty when Egwene and Nynaeve entered.

Elayne stood in front of the fireplace, arms crossed beneath her breasts and eyes red at least partly from anger. Two tall young men sprawled in the chairs, all arms and legs. One, with his dark green coat undone to show a snowy shirt, shared Elayne’s blue eyes and red-gold hair, and his grinning face marked him plainly as her brother. The other, Nynaeve’s age and with his gray coat neatly buttoned, was slender and dark of hair and eye. He rose, all sure confidence and lithely muscled grace, when Egwene and Nynaeve came in. He was, Egwene thought not for the first time, the most handsome man she had ever seen. His name was Galad.

“It is good to see you again,” he said, taking her hand. “I have worried much over you. We have worried much.”

Her pulse quickened, and she took back her hand before he should feel it. “Thank you, Galad,” she murmured. Light, but he’s beautiful. She told herself to stop thinking that way. It was not easy. She found herself smoothing her dress, wishing he were seeing her in silk instead of this plain white wool, perhaps even one of those Domani dresses Min had told her of, the ones that clung and seemed so thin you thought they must be transparent even though they were not. She flushed furiously and banished the image from her mind, willed him to look away from her face. It did not help that half the women in the Tower, from scullery maids to Aes Sedai themselves, looked at him as if they had the same thoughts. It did not help that his smile seemed for her alone. In fact, his smile made it worse. Light, if he even suspected what I was thinking, I’d die!

The golden-haired young man leaned forward in his chair. “The question is, where have you been? Elayne dodges my questions as if she has a pocket full of figs and doesn’t want me to have any.”

“I have told you, Gawyn,” Elayne said in a tight voice, “it is none of your affair. I came here,” she added to Nynaeve, “because I did not want to be alone. They saw me, and followed. They would not take no for an answer.”

“Wouldn’t they,” Nynaeve said flatly.