The camp was already well set up, and amazingly the Whitecloaks had joined them, but Perrin hadn’t yet decided what to do. Or at least if he had decided, he wasn’t sharing that decision with Morgase.

She walked to the wagon lines, past farriers and grooms looking for the best pasture, people arguing in the supply dump, soldiers grudgingly digging trenches for waste. Everyone had their place except Morgase. Servants backed away, half-bowing, uncertain how to treat her. She wasn’t a queen, but neither was she simply another noblewoman. She certainly wasn’t a servant anymore.

Though her time with Galad had reminded her what it was to be a queen, she was thankful for what she had learned as Maighdin. That hadn’t been as bad as she had feared; there had been advantages to being a lady’s maid. The camaraderie of the other servants, the freedom from the burdens of leadership, the time spent with Tallanvor….

That life was not hers. It was time to be done with pretending.

She eventually found Basel Gill packing the cart, Lini supervising, Lamgwin and Breane helping. Faile had released Breane and Lamgwin from her service so they could serve Morgase. Morgase had kept silent about Faile so graciously granting her back her servants.

Tallanvor wasn’t there. Well, she couldn’t moon over him like a girl any longer. She had to get back to Caemlyn and help Elayne.

“Your Majes—” Master Gill said, bowing. He hesitated. “I mean, my Lady. Pardon me.”

“Don’t mind it, Master Gill. I have trouble remembering myself.”

“You sure you want to go forward with this?” Lini folded her thin arms.

“Yes,” Morgase said. “It is our duty to return to Caemlyn and offer Elayne what assistance we can.”

“If you say so,” Lini said. “Me, I think that anyone who allows two roosters in the same barnyard deserves the ruckus they get.”

Morgase raised an eyebrow. “Noted. But I think you’ll find that I am quite capable of helping without usurping authority from Elayne.”

Lini shrugged.

She had a point; Morgase had to be careful. Staying in the capital for too long could throw a shadow across Elayne. But if there was one thing Morgase had learned from her months as Maighdin it was that people needed to be doing something productive, even if it was something as simple as learning to serve tea. Morgase had skills that Elayne could use for the dangerous times ahead. If she began to overshadow her daughter, however, she would move out of Caemlyn to her holdings in the west.

The others worked quickly loading up, and Morgase had to fold her arms to keep from helping. There was a certain fulfillment to caring for oneself. As she waited, she noticed someone riding up the path from Whitebridge. Tallanvor. What had he been doing in the city? He saw her and approached, then bowed, his lean, square face a model of deference. “My Lady.”

“You visited the city? Did you get Lord Aybara’s permission?” Perrin hadn’t wanted a sudden flood of soldiers and refugees going into the city, causing trouble.