Four days after the attack, they finally emerged on the other side of the Jangai Pass, where the Shaido had laid waste on a town called Selean. Two days later, Isendre was reported missing by some angry Maidens of the Spear. Neya thought she ought to be happy about that, but couldn't summon enough energy to gloat. Besides, she was fairly certain the woman must have suffered a terrible fate. Lanfear had told her she was a Darkfriend, just like the peddler, Harnan Kadere.

That night Natael came to her tent. He didn't ask for her permission to enter; he simply stepped in and sprawled down on her pallet. She stared at him from the other end of the tent, where she sat on a fluffy cushion, the book she was reading entirely forgotten in her hands. What was the man thinking? That he could just pick up where he left off, as if nothing had happened? She was momentarily stunned speechless. He didn't say anything, just produced his harp and started to play a mournful tune, looking his usual gloomy self.

Abruptly Neya stood up, closed the short distance between them, and slapped him, so hard that her hand stung. He looked up at her in shock. "What do you think you're doing?" she shouted. "You think you can tumble that strumpet and just waltz back in as if nothing had happened the moment she's gone? Who do you take me for?" she spat at him. "You bloody son of a flaming goat!" She slapped him again, for good measure. "Get the hell out of here," she said, pointing at the tent flap.

Natael swallowed, putting a hand on his reddening cheek. He opened his mouth to speak, but she forestalled him. "Don't bother," she warned him in a dangerous voice. He got up, stepping around her carefully before exiting.

The next day several Maidens nodded approvingly to Neya in passing, some of them grinning. It seemed that she had yelled louder than intended. Come to think of it, she hadn't meant to shout at all. She had been baffled by the man's sudden reappearance in her life and outraged at his lack of manners, but surely none of it had earned him those slaps. If he wanted to sleep with other women, that was his business. She simply wished he had been more discreet.

He came back later that night, this time calling out from outside and even waiting for her assent before entering. She almost refused, partly because she didn't know how she felt at the moment, and partly because she was a little embarrassed by her outburst of the previous night.

Natael stepped inside and eyed her warily before sitting down on the pallet. He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry." The words seemed to be ripped out of him, but he sounded sincere. "I'm not entirely certain why you're mad at me, but whatever it is, I'm sorry. I don't suppose it was all just an act, by any chance? To keep up appearances?" he asked dubiously. Neya shook her head mutely. "I see. Perhaps you were simply trying to get back at me for making you look bad?" She shook her head once more. He went on in a slightly irritated tone. "Then why? We are not lovers. You know that, yes?"

"I don't know why," she replied truthfully. "There's been a lot going on lately. Selean, Taien, the Shadowspawn attack…" Her voice cracked a little at that. She took a deep breath before continuing. "I'm not angry at you in particular, I'm angry at everything and everyone. So much pain, so much pointless violence. As if the prospect of Tarmon Gai'don was not enough," she murmured.

"I see. You're mad at the world and decided to slap me to make yourself feel better about the unfairness of it all. Is that correct?"

"Pretty much," she answered with a small grin.

He chuckled darkly. "My cheek stung for the rest of the night, you know," he told her accusingly.

"You have such a delicate disposition," she told him teasingly.

They were silent for a moment. "May I?" he asked eventually, unstrapping his harp.

She nodded, settling back on the cushions. "Can you play Odyssey of the Fireflies?" His eyes widened in surprise, but he said nothing, instead launching into the first accords of the requested tune.

She fell asleep at some point, and woke up to find Natael still sprawled on the cot, snoring softly. She put a hand on his shoulder to wake him and, together, they packed up her tent in silence. Everyone eyed them askew when they stepped out and some passing Maidens shook their heads in disbelief. Neya didn't pay them any attention. Mat scowled darkly at the gleeman as he joined her for breakfast and she gave him a shrug and a grin, which seemed to suffice. Her brother never held a grudge for very long.

Egwene gave her such a disapproving look when Natael suddenly reappeared by her side that she didn't have the heart to talk to her. In any case, she seemed as busy as ever with her tasks as apprentice.

Natael took to riding next to her so they could talk, and talk they did. He was much more amiable now than he used to be, back in Rhuidean. They spent most of that first day speculating on what had befallen Isendre and eventually agreed that she must have been killed. It seemed improbable that the woman could have escaped the Maidens long enough to run away to safety. Lanfear or another Forsaken likely had a hand in this.

Her curiosity got the better of her. "Why her?" she asked him. "I mean, obviously she was beautiful and all that, but still," she went on derisively. "Even you could do better than that."

He didn't say anything for a moment. She was beginning to think she'd vexed him when he finally spoke. "I thought Lanfear had taken you," he muttered. "Al'Thor seemed to agree that it was the most plausible option," he went on softly. "As far as we knew, you were dead." She glanced in his direction, but he kept his eyes fixedly on the road ahead. "Isendre showed up in my tent on the second day after we left Rhuidean. She took her clothes off and sat astride me. What was I supposed to do?" he asked her fiercely, finally facing her. "How far was I supposed to go to keep up appearances? Should I have observed a proper period of mourning?" he said sharply, scowling at her.

This was not going as she'd expected. She hadn't meant to accuse him of anything, which she hastened to clarify. "There's no need to be so defensive. I don't care with whom you decide to share your blankets, you know. I was just curious. She seemed so… dull," she finished lamely. That was not the word she had intended to use.

He was silent for a long time. She didn't know what to say to appease him. Why did he become so vehement, all of a sudden? She thought she'd made it clear that it didn't matter what had happened. "Why did you disappear like that, anyway?" he finally asked, glowering at her. "Al'Thor said you weren't with Lanfear, but he didn't tell me where you'd gone."

This was even worse. "Does it matter?" she asked casually. "Look, we both made mistakes. Let's just keep it at that, shall we?" she offered hesitantly.

He didn't reply right away, his face suddenly impassive. "Or better yet, let's not mention any of this ever again," he muttered. She nodded hastily and he slowly regained his composure after that.

They talked about Sammael, arguing as to whether or not he had been the one to commandeer the attack near Taien. She made fun of him for being Rand's standard-bearer and for riding an ass, and he surprised her by sticking his tongue at her, making her giggle involuntarily. He wasn't so bad, for one of the Forsaken. No more than Elan had been, once she got to know him better. Of course, they had both done unspeakable things. When the Last Battle was over, he would likely hang for the unforgivable crimes he'd committed during the War of Power, no matter what help he provided Rand. She was beginning to understand what Elan had tried to explain to her, in that pedantic tone of his. No one was all Light or Shadow, but rather an amalgam of both. In the end, all that truly mattered was the part people chose to act on.

Soon they reached the outskirts of Cairhien and prepared to battle the encamped Shaido. Egwene and Aviendha, the other apprentice, agreed to fight alongside Rand, using the One Power. Moiraine and the Wise Ones would remain behind and provide what Healing they could. Neya offered to help, even if she couldn't channel, and both she and Natael ended up being recruited to assist the Healers. Neya was still secretly hoping that seeing someone injured would trigger her ability to embrace the Source.

The battle began, and they spent the day running from one Wise One to the next, carrying water or bandages and following Moiraine's sharp instructions. When the fighting finally died down, with the Shaido defeated, they were both exhausted. Nothing had prompted her block to dissolve, not even when people she knew were brought in, some of them on the brink of death. Moiraine had been able to save countless lives, and that made Neya feel all the more frustrated. Later that day, when darkness fell, they learned that Mat himself had killed Couladin, the leader of the Shaido, although her brother didn't seem particularly happy about it.

They entered Cairhien the next day, raising Rand's banners all over the city. Neya and Natael were given a room in the Sun Palace itself, which was vast and richly decorated. Rand seemed to be paying less and less attention to the former Forsaken, apparently trusting him not to do anything stupid, or perhaps trusting Neya to make certain he didn't. They spent the next few days enjoying the comforts of a palace room, and she took her first bath in well over a year, soaking gratefully in the warm water until her fingers were creased. In hindsight, it was astonishing that Elan, who had all the knowledge of the Age of Legends, couldn't have provided even a simple bathtub. All she'd had was the plain washbasin in her bedroom.

The mattress was stuffed with goose feathers and she lay on it for hours, even during the day, relishing its softness. They actually shared the bed, which was excessively large, although neither of them ever really discussed it.

She simply took for granted the fact that Natael didn't think of her that way.