“Will you put us in skirts, and make us marry and tend hearth? Or are we to lie beside your fire and lick your hand when you give us a scrap of meat?” Her muscles tensed, and the spear broke, scoring his palm with splinters.

He snatched his freed hand back with a curse, shaking off droplets of blood. “I don’t mean any such thing. I thought you understood.” She took up the last spear, set her foot, and he channeled, weaving Air to hold her as she was. She only stared at him wordlessly. “Burn me, you said nothing! So I kept the Maidens out of the battle with Couladin. Not everyone fought that day. And you never said a word.”

Sulin’s eyes widened in incredulity. “You kept us from the dance of spears? We kept you from the dance. You were like a girl newly wed to the spear, ready to rush out and kill Couladin with never a thought for the spear you might take from behind. You are the Car’a’carn. You have no right to risk yourself needlessly.” Her voice flattened. “Now you go to fight the Forsaken. The secret is well kept, but I have heard enough from those who lead the other societies.”

“And you want to keep me out of this fight as well?” he said quietly.

“Do not be a fool, Rand al’Thor. Any could have danced the spears with Couladin; for you to risk it was the thinking of a child. None among us can face the Shadowsouled, save you.”

“Then why . . . ?” He stopped; he already knew the answer. After that blood-soaked day against Couladin, he had convinced himself they would not mind. He had wanted to believe they would not.

“Those who go with you have been chosen.” The words came like hurled stones. “Men from every society. Men. There are no Maidens, Rand al’Thor. Far Dareis Mai carries your honor, and you take ours away.”

He drew a deep breath, fumbling for words. “I . . . do not like to see a woman die. I hate it, Sulin. It curdles me up inside. I could not kill a woman if my life hung on it.” The pages of Moiraine’s letter rustled in his hand. Dead because he could not kill Lanfear. Not always just his own life. “Sulin, I would rather go against Rahvin alone than see one of you die.”

“A foolish thing. Everyone needs another to watch her back. So it is Rahvin. Even Roidan of the Thunder Walkers and Turol of the Stone Dogs held that back.” She glanced at her upraised foot, held against the spear by the same flows that snared her arms. “Release me, and we will talk.”