They came before a carved wooden door and Rand stopped in front of it, looking intensely at it for a long moment. He must have set wards around the room, Neya assumed. Finally he opened the door, gesturing for her to step inside. It was a vast space, almost bare but for a large bed and a smaller cot placed at opposite ends of the room, and a few cushions scattered on the floor. The cot was occupied by Nessosin, who sat gloomily plucking at the cords of his harp. He didn't raise his head when they walked in. He seemed to be muttering to himself.

Rand sat down on one of the cushions and motioned for her to do the same. "Wine?" he offered flatly. She nodded and soon two goblets were floating across the room. She took the one which hovered closer to her and took a sip. Thanks to Elan, she'd become quite good at appreciating wine; this one was drinkable at best. She set the goblet down on the floor next to her. She should have asked for water instead. "How did you get here?" Rand demanded.

Nessosin finally roused himself from his sulk at the angry tone in the Dragon Reborn's voice. When he saw Neya, he practically jumped to his feet and scrambled toward them. "My Lord Dragon, this woman is dangerous. She's a channeler, and she's strong. She's Lanfear's creature, my Lord Dragon. And she was Ishamael's before that." He spoke rapidly and looked agitated. "She cannot be trusted."

"Be silent, Natael," Rand said in a dangerously soft voice. The older man's mouth snapped shut audibly. He looked as if he wanted to argue but thought better of it. Slowly, he walked back to his cot and sat down, glaring at Neya. Rand turned his attention back to her as if nothing had happened. "Well?"

"Rand, I think it's best if he doesn't hear what I have to tell you," she said hesitantly. Rand seemed so cold, so distant, so different from the boy she had grown up with. She understood why, of course, but she was almost scared of him.

He made a small gesture with his right hand. "He can't hear us," he said simply. Neya nodded. Taking a deep breath, she told him everything.

It took longer than she would have thought. "I'm probably leaving some details out, but most of what E… Ishamael told me concerned the Age of Legends and what the other Forsaken were like before they became who they are now," she finished at last. She had left nothing out; nothing that mattered, anyway. Rand's face never changed.

He appeared to be carefully considering everything she had said. "So Lanfear sent you to insure Natael's… loyalty… and to keep him safe at the same time?" he asked her slowly.

"And to make sure he was teaching you properly," she added. "She didn't say if or when she was going to ask for reports from me, though. As far as I know, she could be appearing at any time. And I probably wasn't supposed to tell you all of this, although she didn't expressly forbid it. Of course, she wasn't aware that we knew each other. She seemed utterly convinced that I would do everything she ordered without question," she said.

"So you need to stay close to Natael and myself," Rand stated. "I can't think of a reason why you would remain around us all the time, especially him," he went on, frowning.

"I think I do," she said with a sigh. "I've been thinking about it on my way here. I didn't know it would be you I'd have to convince, so I had to come up with a likely story, a good reason to be looking for Natael," she continued. "I was going to pretend to be his lover."

Rand's eyes widened in surprise. Clearly, this was not what he had expected. "But that's hardly a story!" he exclaimed. "And it doesn't explain why you're here. Or why you left home in the first place. What did you tell Egwene?"

"Nothing yet. And here's the rest of the story," she went on in a low voice, even though she knew no one else was listening. "I ran away to look for adventure. I met Natael at some point and we became lovers. Then we had an argument. He went his way and I went mine. But woolheaded girl that I am, I couldn't forget him and have been looking for him ever since, finally tracking him to this kjasic place."

Rand was staring at her, incredulous. "You do realise what everyone will think of you if you tell them that," he said. "Egwene especially. Mat might understand, but–"

"Do you have a better suggestion?" she cut him off sharply. "Don't you think I would prefer to pass as the hero in shiny armour who comes to rescue your sorry hide?" she asked bitterly. "Do you have any idea what it's been like for me, this past year? Do you, my Lord Dragon?" she went on with a sneer. She didn't let him answer. "In any case, I'd rather pass for a love-struck ninny than a Darkfriend," she told him sourly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean…" he told her, red-faced. He took a deep breath. "Neya, I'm sorry. I can't imagine what you have been through. But you have to understand that the world has changed since you've gone. I've changed, and Mat, and Egwene," he went on softly. "Maybe her most of all," he murmured, almost too low for her to hear. He gave himself a shake. "It will do, I suppose. But how do you explain your wandering in the Waste and surviving?"

"I can channel. Surely a stubborn channeler could have made her way through this Light-cursed land?" she asked pointedly.

He gave her a small shrug. "It will have to do," he said again. Standing, he made a small gesture in Natael's direction. The man appeared to be asleep, but his eyes opened as soon as he heard Rand address him. "Natael, we need to talk."

After they finally convinced the one-time Forsaken to play along with their little scheme, Neya fell asleep on the bed and only woke up around noon. Natael was still in the room, plucking at his harp and scowling at nothing in particular. He barely glanced at her when she got up. "You will have to do better than that when we're around people, Jay," she said with a thin smile.

He frowned at her. "Jay?"

"I can't just call you Natael like everyone else. We're supposed to be lovers, remember? Unless you would prefer something cheesier?" she asked derisively. "I can think of a few nicknames for you, pumpkin."

"Jay is fine. Well, it's not, but it will do. There's no one around right now, however," he stated with a wide gesture encompassing the whole room. "I expect proper respect from you when we're alone, little girl," he went on contemptuously.

She snorted. "You deserve as much respect as a poisonous snake. Less, in fact," she told him. "After all, the snake cannot help the fact that it is poisonous, it was simply born this way. You chose to pledge yourself to the Shadow and become a murderous tyrant out of sheer spite." She grimaced. "The snake is probably more human than you are."

He glared at her silently for a moment before going back to his harp. She recognised the tune: it was The March of Death. She felt a sudden surge of grief. She couldn't stay here a moment longer.

Rand had told her that she was free to come and go as she pleased. The women who lived in the building – the Maidens, Rand called them – kept a close watch on her as she strode through the wide halls. When she reached the entrance, she set to find Mat.

She would have to face him sooner or later.