Cyndane sat on the window ledge, balancing in an almost impossible position. She'd sat here the last three nights, watching. An onlooker would likely have commented that the moon bore the exact shade of her hair this night, if not for the fact that she was invisible. She had preformed every trick of stealth in her repertoire. Inverted weaves, hiding her ability to channel, invisibility, all so she could sit on this ledge and watch him. Watch Rand Al'Thor. Even thinking the name made her blood boil, yet at the same time she felt empty, sad. Seeing him now, his hand missing his mind addled, if it wasn't for that trowser wearing harlot she might even try comfort him. The only thing keeping her from killing the young trollop was Moridin.
Moridin had agreed to let her be the one to eliminate Semirhage. She knew it was a test, a temptation. Even now she could feel him stroking the cour'souvra. His will imprinting on her, "Do not kill a soul but Semirhage, her time has come."
Cyndane shuddered, Her only solace thus far was the tension, the anger, Lewis Therin seemed to be hurling at his little slip of a bride. He was pushing the girl away, pushing everyone away, and more than once she had heard Lewis Therin for true inside this new body.
How much would Moridin allow? He had said not to kill, but had he left the rest purposely vague, to test her, to torture her? The young woman, Min she was called, left in tears and not for the first time today. It made Cyndane smile, maybe the tart would learn that she could never please a man like Lewis Therin, never understand what it was like to have that sort of power.
He walked to the window looking through her, and Cyndane cold see the sadness in his eyes, so much like they had always been. He was so close, if not for the window she could reach out and touch him.
"You are there, aren't you? I don't know how but it's you." He whispered just loud enough to travel through the glass. How had he known? He couldn't have known, there were other women channeling far to often around this place for him to have been able to simply guess from that feeling a man got when a woman channeled.
Cyndane strode through the wall and into the room; a form of traveling seldom used or mastered, even in her time. Dropping her light bending weave she calmly moved toward him and he backed up as if she were a hot coal. "What has she done to you my dear Lewis Therrin, what wreckage has she turned your beautiful body into," her voice full of sorrow, could she forgive him? She stepped toward him again reaching for the stub that was once a hand, stopping short of touching him.
"Why the disguise?" He said disregarding her concern; how like a man.
"I come in no disguise my love, this is me all i am and all I ever will be," anger and bitterness tainting her voice toward the end. She calmed herself, tried to think of a way Moridin would let her keep him, but still she could feel the cour'souvra, was the stroking harder? She pulled back her hand straightening her dress with her silk dress with the hand, it's powder blue colour almost light enough to shine in the moon light. Cyndane felt odd seeing him from this angle. He had always been tall but now he seemed an Ogier.
"Who are you then?"
"I am called Cyndane," saying the name hurt. It pained her that he had given up so easy, that he didn't know who she was. Yet maybe this was a second chance. "Lewis Therin I..."
"Silence," his voice did not ring, it sounded, dead, souless. Yet he had not shielded her, "Do you think I am a fool. Those with nothing to hide hide nothing," He held his stub us as if gesturing and shuddered. He spoke under his breath, it was barely audible but Cyndane was sure of the beginning, "Mierin used to"
It was to much; Cyndane could feel the mind trap pulling, urging her to leave. She feared the repercussions but she pressed further. "Lewis Therin, you were ever the knight the hero. Always ready to save the woman. I know you are in there, save me now." The words flowed forth like a torrent even as the last left her mouth her hands were pressed to the sides of her head.
Cyndane could feel her cour'souvra in Moridin's hand. He was squeezing; he couldn't crush it. He needed her, didn't he? She could feel her soul weakening, she couldn't speak.
"Cyndane what's wrong," Rands voice held concern, the most emotion she'd heard from him in the last three days, even as her soul faded her heart sang. She couldn't stay, Moridin would kill her, she was sure of it now. She quickly spun a gateway and fell back into it landing at Moridin's feet.
Moridin stood with a smile on his face, the black saa passing over his eyes, faster and larger than ever. "Now we wait and see if he follows." Moridin said with a dry laugh, only then did Cyndane realize her role as bait.