Mat, Egwene, even Moiraine sometimes looked at him with eyes that saw the Dragon Reborn, or at least the danger of a man who could channel. The clan chiefs and the Wise Ones saw He Who Comes With the Dawn, the man prophesied to break the Aiel like dried twigs; if they did not fear him, they still sometimes treated him like a red adder they had to live with. Whatever Aviendha saw, it never stopped her being scathing whenever she chose, which was most of the time.

An odd sort of comfort, but compared to the rest, it was a comfort nonetheless. He had missed her. He had even picked flowers from some of the spiny plants around Rhuidean—bloodying his fingers until he realized he could use the Power—and sent them to her, half a dozen times; the Maidens had carried the blossoms themselves, instead of sending gai’shain. She had never acknowledged them, of course.

“Thank you,” he said finally, touching the blankets. They seemed a safe enough subject. “I suppose you can’t have too many in the nights here.”

“Enaila asked me to bring them to you when she found out I was here to see you.” Her lips twitched in the beginnings of an amused smile. “A number of the spear-sisters were worried that you might not be warm enough. I am to see that you light your fire tonight; you didn’t last night.”

Rand felt his cheeks coloring. She knew. Well, she would, wouldn’t she? The bloody Maidens may not tell her everything anymore, but they don’t bother to keep anything from her, either. “Why did you want to see me?”

To his surprise, she folded her arms beneath her breasts and paced the short length of the room twice before stopping to glare at him. “This was not a regard-gift,” she said accusingly, shaking the bracelet at him. “You admitted as much.” True, though he thought she might have put a knife in his ribs had he not conceded it. “It was simply a fool gift from a man who did not know or care what my—what the spear-sisters might think. Well, this has no meaning either.” She pulled something from her pouch and tossed it onto the pallet beside him. “It cancels debt between us.”

Rand picked up what she had thrown and turned it over in his hands. A belt buckle in the shape of a dragon, ornately made in good steel and inlaid with gold. “Thank you. It’s beautiful. Aviendha, there is no debt to cancel.”

“If you will not take it against my debt,” she said firmly, “then throw it away. I will find something else to repay you. It is only a trinket.”

“Hardly a trinket. You must have had this made.”