With the last light of dusk fading, the stars shone like hesitant children, peeking out now that the uproar of day had died down. It felt so good to finally see them again. Gawyn breathed in deeply.

Elayne was right. Much of Gawyn’s hatred of al’Thor came from frustration. Maybe jealousy. Al’Thor was playing a role closer to what Gawyn would have chosen for himself. Ruling nations, leading armies. Looking at their lives, who had taken on the role of a prince, and who the role of a lost sheepherder?

Perhaps Gawyn resisted Egwene’s demands because he wanted to lead, to be the one who accomplished the heroic acts. If he became her Warder, he would have to step aside and help her change the world. There was honor in keeping someone great alive. A deep honor. What was the point of great acts? The recognition they brought, or the better lives they created?

To step aside. He’d admired men like Sleete for their willingness to do this, but had never understood them. Not truly. I can’t leave her to do it alone, he thought. I have to help her. From within her shadow.

Because he loved her. But also because it was for the best. If two bards tried to play different songs at the same time, they both made noise. But if one stepped back to give harmony to the other’s melody, then the beauty could be greater than either made alone.

And in that moment, finally, he understood. He stood up. He couldn’t go to Egwene as a prince. He had to go to her as a Warder. He had to watch over her, to serve her. See her wishes done.

It was time to return.

Slinging his coat on, he strode down the path toward the Palace. The opening serenades of various pond frogs cut short—followed by splashes—as he passed them and entered the building. It wasn’t a long walk to his sister’s rooms. She would be up; she had trouble sleeping lately. During the past few days, they had often enjoyed conversation and a cup of warm tea before bed. At her doors, however, he was stopped by Birgitte.

She gave him another glare. Yes, she did not like being forced to act as Captain-General in his stead. He could see that now. He felt a little awkward stepping up to her. The woman held up a hand. “Not tonight, princeling.”

“I’m leaving for the White Tower,” he said. “I’d like to say farewell.”

He moved to step forward, but Birgitte held a hand against his chest, gently pushing him back. “You can leave in the morning.”

He almost reached for his sword, but stopped himself. Light! There had been a time when he hadn’t reacted that way to everything. He had become a fool. “Ask if she’ll see me,” he said politely. “Please.”

“I have my orders,” Birgitte said. “Besides, she couldn’t talk to you. She’s asleep.”

“I’m sure she’d like to be awakened.”