Neya felt giddy. That was the only word for it. She knew she ought to be devastated by what had happened the day before, the bloody mess, the countless wasted lives. But she just felt happy and light-hearted and incredibly smug. She wandered around for a while with half a mind to find Perrin. There hadn't been any time for talking the previous day and she longed for news from home. Maybe he'd heard from Mat or Egwene, too.

She realised someone had been playing the harp when the tune stopped abruptly with a discordant note. Jay was sitting cross-legged on an upturned crate, glaring at her resentfully. She walked up to him, waiting for him to erupt in anger. He didn't, however. He didn't say anything. They stood fixing each other for a while before she finally broke the silence. "It's good to see you," she said quietly. He snorted. "I'm not going to try to justify myself again. I understand why you're angry, but surely you see why I left. This is exactly the sort of things I was talking about," she said, gesturing at the whole encampment.

"And you think your new sweetheart is any less dangerous than I was?" he asked bitterly. He sniggered as her eyes widened in surprise. "I went to your tent last night, to see how you were doing. You weren't exactly discreet, you know," he went on with a grimace.

Neya felt her cheeks heat up with embarrassment. She didn't regret what had happened, far from it, but she hadn't meant for everyone to know about it. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I didn't even know you were here."

"Where else would I be?" he asked sullenly. "I'm the Dragon Reborn's lapdog, remember?"

Clearly, he hadn't become any happier about his plight since Neya had left. Which was a little odd, considering her last days in Caemlyn, before the attack on Rahvin. The former Forsaken had appeared to have come to terms with his current situation, albeit grudgingly. Her departure likely had something to do with this. "I'm sorry," she repeated. What else could she say? "But why wouldn't Mazrim be safe? He's got over three hundred trained male channelers at his back. What could possibly happen?"

"Neya," Jasin said condescendingly, "by now all the other Chosen will have their sights set on the man, if they don't effectively have him already. They won't want to waste him by removing him, should he refuse, not unless they have to, but you can be sure they'll find some way to get the Black Tower on their side before the Last Battle begins," he told her with a sneer. "Taim is doomed."

Well, aren't you a little ray of sunshine, Neya thought wryly. Apparently running out of encouraging remarks, Jay turned back to his harp, striking up a funereal tune. The March of Death, of course. His all-time favourite. Without another word, Neya left him to his melancholy play.

She found Perrin a few minutes later, talking with what she feared was a Trolloc until she realised it held a book in its platter-sized hand. An Ogier, perhaps? It had to be. She was quite sure Trollocs weren't adept at reading. Neya made her way toward them but, before she had taken ten steps, Perrin turned in her direction, his bright yellow eyes gazing at her. It was impressive, she had to admit. The large man greeted her with a grin despite his obvious tiredness. He introduced the Ogier as Loial, son of Arent, son of Halan. "Kiserai ti Wansho hei," she murmured formally with a small bow of her head. Both of them looked at her in astonishment and she smiled timidly. The Ogier soon made his excuses and left them to talk.

"I tried to find you yesterday," Perrin told her, "but one of the Asha'man said you were busy tending to the wounded," he said with a small frown. "Healing them, he said."

She nodded. "I was. You seemed so surprised to see me yesterday. Didn't Rand tell you where I was?"

He shook his head in disbelief. "Nobody told me anything. How long has it been? That is, how long have you been… back?" he asked after a brief hesitation.

"I met Rand and Mat in Rhuidean about five months ago. Egwene was there, too. I followed them to Cairhien, fought against Rahvin's forces in Caemlyn, then I went to the Black Tower to oversee things," she filled him in quickly. She didn't feel like telling him what had happened before that. "What about you? How have you been since I… left? Mat told me you'd gone back to the Two Rivers a few months ago," she said.

Perrin nodded slowly and, not for the first time, Neya noticed how exhausted he looked. He seemed to have aged a decade since she'd last seen him. "Someone sent Trollocs through the Ways to attack the Two Rivers," he began, and she gave him an incredulous stare. Neither Mat nor Rand had ever mentioned that. She made a mental note to scold them when she next saw them. "There was a battle. We won," he said with a bitter twist of his mouth.

"Is everyone alright? I mean–"

He was shaking his head before she finished her sentence. "We lost many people. Too many," he muttered. "But your family is safe, Abell and Natti and the girls." Thank the Light for that.

There was something he wasn't telling her. "What about your family, Perrin?" she asked softly, dreading the answer. He was shaking his head again. He didn't reply. She laid a hand on his arm; she never knew what to do or say in these circumstances. Light! Deselle and Adora, and sweet little Paet. They were so young. She couldn't believe they were gone.

Perrin took a deep breath and looked at her with a small smile. "On a lighter note, I'm married."

"You're not! How dare you get married without inviting me!" she said with mock indignation. "Congratulations," she told him more seriously. "I'm happy for you. Who's the lucky gal?" she asked with unfeigned curiosity.

"Faile ni Bashere t'Aybara," he replied fondly.

"Bashere," Neya repeated. "Like… Davram Bashere?"

He nodded. "His daughter. Can you believe my wife is cousin to the Queen of Saldaea?" he said as if he still couldn't get his head around it. "She's amazing. You'll like her. Well, she's in Cairhien. I'll introduce you when we get there."

"I'm going back to the Black Tower, Perrin," she told him with an apologetic smile.

He scowled at her. "Why? You said you went to oversee matters there, but I thought Taim was in charge now."

"Oh, he is. We both are, really. He supervises the men, I handle the rest," she said with a shrug. "I can't leave. They wouldn't know what to do without me. They'd probably starve to death before the month was out," she said affectionately.

Perrin told her of the changes back home and reluctantly admitted that he had been appointed Lord of the Two Rivers. Lord Perrin Goldeneyes, they called him now, although he didn't seem particularly happy about it. Neya longed to ask him what had happened to his eyes, but she didn't want to press her friend. Perrin had a tendency to draw back on himself when you were too direct with him.

They were soon joined by a slender youth dressed in brightly coloured clothes that clashed violently. Perrin introduced him simply as Aram. The young man appeared very devoted to her old friend. She bade them both goodbye a moment later. She had to check on the Asha'man and make arrangements for departure. It was unlikely that they would stay here much longer. As she passed the black-covered bodies lying nearby, she suddenly felt more exhausted than she had since the previous day, her euphoria from earlier already evaporated.

They departed a few hours later, after a heated argument as to who should have charge of the treacherous White Tower Aes Sedai, which was eventually 'won' by the Wise Ones. Mazrim looked furious, although why he would want the women at the Black Tower was a mystery to Neya. It would only cause trouble and unnerve the men.

They arrived at the Tower around noon and, as everyone ran to their loved ones, she caught sight of Ilawen and Karys scanning the throng of men that were pouring through the gateway. This is it, she thought numbly. She walked up to meet them and gathered Ilawen in her arms. She didn't even need to speak. Karys ran away to take refuge in the barn while Ilawen sobbed in Neya's arms.

The men were buried at dusk in the small patch of land that lay behind the barn, where they had first dug Siman Proctor's resting place. Fourteen graves now occupied the space. Mazrim gave a brief but surprisingly poignant eulogy and that was the end of the ceremony. Neya remained there with the girls for a while, until Ilawen began to doze off out of sheer exertion. She carried her to their room, Karys keeping close. "Will you stay with us tonight?" the older girl asked timidly.

"Sure," Neya told her. They all settled on the bed. Ilawen was already fast asleep.

"What's going to happen to us now? Is Mazrim going to throw us out?" Karys asked dejectedly. They had taken to calling him Mazrim because of Neya's habit to do so.

"Of course not! Sweetie, nobody's going to throw you out. This is your home. Mazrim knows that," she said softly, stroking the little girl's hair soothingly. "You're safe here. I'll look after you."

"Always?" Karys whispered.

"Always," Neya replied firmly. "I promise."