The events in that city had been important to her, maybe even good for her. Though he was angered at hearing how Sevanna had trussed Faile up naked and left her overnight. Someday he’d hunt that woman down.

Not today, however. Today he had his wife in his arms, and her strong voice was a comfort. He should have realized she would have planned her own escape. In fact, listening to her careful preparation, he began to feel a fool. She’d been worried that he’d get himself killed trying to rescue her—she didn’t say it, but he could infer it. How well she knew him.

Faile left some things out. He didn’t mind. Faile would be like a penned and caged animal without her secrets. He got a good hint of what she was hiding, though. It was something to do with that Brotherless who had captured her, something about Faile’s plans to trick the man and his friends into helping her escape. Perhaps she’d felt a fondness for him, and didn’t wish Perrin to regret killing him. That wasn’t necessary. Those Brotherless had been with the Shaido, and they had attacked and killed men under Perrin’s protection. No act of kindness would redeem that. They deserved their deaths.

That gave him pause. The Whitecloaks probably said very similar things about him. But the Whitecloaks had attacked first.

She finished. It was very late, now, and Perrin reached over to a bundle that Faile’s servants had brought up, pulling out a blanket.

“Well?” Faile asked as he settled back, putting his arm around her again.

“I’m surprised that you didn’t give me an earful for barreling in like a wild bull and stomping all over your plans.”

That made her smell satisfied. It wasn’t the emotion he’d expected, but he’d long ago stopped trying to decipher the ways of women’s thought.

“I almost brought the matter up tonight,” Faile said, “so that we could have a proper argument and a proper reconciliation.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I decided that this night should be done in the Two Rivers way.”

“And you think husbands and wives don’t argue in the Two Rivers?” he asked, amused.

“Well, perhaps they do. But you, husband, always seem uncomfortable when we yell. I’m very glad you’ve begun to stand up for yourself, as is proper. But I have asked much from you to adapt to my ways. I thought, tonight, I would try to adapt to yours.”

Those were words that he had never expected to hear from Faile. It seemed the most personal thing she could ever have given him. Embarrassingly, he felt tears in his eyes, and he pulled her tight.

“Now,” she said, “I’m not a docile sheep, mind you.”

“I would never think that,” he said. “Never.”

She smelled satisfied.

“I’m sorry I didn’t give much thought to you escaping on your own,” Perrin said.

“I forgive you.”

He looked down at her, those beautiful dark eyes reflecting the candlelight. “Does this mean we can have the reconciliation without the argument?”