Twelve days. That was how long M'Hael had allowed Logain to recuperate.
He still hadn't caved. M'Hael hadn't really expected him to.
After this second attempt at Turning Logain, feeling heartsick, M'Hael had sought Neya out in a moment of weakness, hoping to find some solace in the confines of her mind. He checked on her regularly, despite…whatever she was up to. He'd grown hopeful, against his better judgement, when he'd realised she wasn't in fact up to anything, these days. She felt…lonely. Worried. He could tell that some of that worry was directed at him, but not all of it. Not most of it, really.
After a while, M'Hael thought Neya had become aware that he was actively scanning her emotions, because a sense of awareness had bloomed in his mind. Somewhat reluctantly, he'd let down the barriers that concealed his own emotions. Neya must have sensed that something was wrong with him. Well, more so than usual, anyway. She'd sent positive thoughts, but he could tell that her feelings toward him had changed. She loved him, but… He was under the impression that this emotion was not entirely directed at him, either.
He'd cut the connection after letting her have a brief analysis of his mind. He couldn't afford for her to rummage in there for too long. What if she realised what he was doing?
Light, she would never forgive him.
Logain felt restless. The pain from that last session had not quite faded yet, and he had a violent headache. He was cold and feverish.
He heard a muffled conversation outside his cell. Toveine was talking to one of the Asha'man, though Logain couldn't tell which one.
His bond to the Red had…died, after she was Turned. Then it had roared back to life. It was…different now. Corrupt. Poisonous, wrong. It made him queasy.
It was nothing compared to actually seeing Toveine, however. That had shocked him to his very core. She had been the one to unlock his cell and, as Coteren had been maliciously delighted to point out, she'd been the one shielding him. What was even worse was the look in her eyes – the absence of light, the lack of reaction when he'd called her name. She'd sneered at him, called him an impotent swine, a pathetic simpleton. Where that came from, Logain had no idea. Was it what Toveine really thought of him, but had had the decency to keep to herself before she was Turned? When she was still a human being? Or was her essence gone altogether, her soul disintegrated and replaced by this poor imitation? Was it a mere generic, villainous remark? Logain couldn't tell. Despite their bond, he had never…well, bonded with Toveine. He knew practically nothing of the woman. He'd had no illusion that she liked him, but he thought that she'd come to respect him, at least. Perhaps he'd been wrong. Not that it mattered now.
Seeing that Toveine was lost to him, he'd sought out Gabrelle. He'd sent reassurance, though he knew it was pointless. She had to know what was happening, or at least that he was being tortured. She knew he'd failed. There was nothing to be done about it. He'd strictly forbidden her to attempt anything, should he be arrested.
He hadn't trusted her enough. Toveine had paid the price of that mistake.
Logain doubted he would live long to regret it. How long could he endure? Keep hold of his sanity? Resist Taim and his minions? He was strung out already.
At least I'm being fed now, Logain thought derisively. Coteren had given Taim a quizzical look when the M'Hael had ordered a proper meal to be brought down to his cell every day, which led Logain to wonder if he was being given special treatment for some reason. More likely, Taim was simply afraid that Logain would die before being successfully Turned. That would certainly annoy Ishamael.
Still, no matter how enjoyable the idea of annoying the Forsaken, Logain was not quite ready to yield yet.
Bao came back to her seventeen days later, leaping out of a gateway and clutching the Sceptre. Apparently, he had abandoned everyone in the courtyard and opened another gateway just inside the bedroom a moment later – at least that's what Kal told Neya the next day.
Bao was smiling. Grinning, really. Neya had been so startled that she'd almost choked on her weak tea.
Bao had dismissed Nyamukuta – whom Neya had been trying to bribe into allowing her to have a proper cup of tea, for once – with an approximate wave of his hand and then had practically flung Neya on the bed, throwing caution to the wind without a second thought.
Neya watched him sleep for a while that night, wondering what would happen next. He would be crowned soon, and then he would begin gathering his forces in earnest, preparing for the Last Battle, she assumed. Not many of the male Ayyad could channel, but apparently there would be enough of them to form a full circle. It could be mainly constituted of female channelers without breaking the link, although a more balanced number of each gender would have provided an even more powerful circle. With Sakarnen, however, Neya didn't think it would matter. Unless Rand decided to attack Bao with the Choedan Kal, he would likely be overwhelmed, if it came to a duel between the two of them. She wasn't certain that the channelers of the Light knew how to form a circle, let alone a full one. Such a thing would require that the Asha'man and Aes Sedai cooperate and work together, and the very idea was laughable. Neya wondered if Rand had somehow managed to unite every Western nation under his rule. It seemed improbable, no matter how strongly ta'veren he might be.
She had taken the opportunity of Bao's absence to attempt to befriend, or at least become acquainted to, some of the female Ayyad. She hadn't expected anything from Galbrait, despite having saved the woman's life, and indeed only received a contemptuous stare for her trouble. She'd had more success with the young woman Bao had entrusted with the rehabilitation of the former slaves. She had been appointed just a few weeks ago. Her name was Taimaka, and she was also a Healer, the best amongst the Ayyad. They had been exchanging ideas and experimenting with weaves for the past two weeks - whenever Neya was indeed able to channel. Nyamukuta had warned her that she might have trouble embracing saidar, during the first few months of her pregnancy.
Neya became aware that Bao was looking at her and smiled at him. He smiled back, and her heart leaped in her chest. It wasn't fair. When the Last Battle began, she knew she would have to abandon him. She wasn't that far gone that she wouldn't at least try to fight for the Light, although she doubted they'd want her there, after everything she'd done. In any case, her relationship with the Forsaken was doomed, no matter how she looked at it. He would repudiate her for betraying him, and he would die, whatever the issue of the battle. There could be no happy ending for them.
Her smile wavered slightly, but Bao didn't appear to notice. "You're a mess," Neya said teasingly. He really was, and not just from what they'd been doing all night. There were deep gashes on his back and thighs, and she suspected a few cracked ribs as well. He was covered in bruises. Why hadn't he asked someone to Heal him? "What did you do, wrestle a bear?"
"A jumara, actually," he replied modestly. "A full-fledged one."
She stared at him blankly for a second as she tried to remember what the word meant. "A Worm?" she asked incredulously when it finally hit her. Bao nodded. "Are you bloody insane? You could have gotten yourself killed! Peace, man, don't you have any regard for your own skin?"
"I am here, am I not? In one piece, as promised." More or less, Neya was tempted to say. "And I brought back the prize, just as I said I would." He looked unusually smug.
Neya sighed. "Shall I Heal you? Or would you like to keep the scars as keepsakes, to remember the Worm by?" she asked wryly.
"By all means," he answered indifferently.
She embraced saidar, placed a hand on his arm and made it all disappear, save for the small scar on his nose. It was something to remember her by. "I don't know how you do that."
"It is not too difficult, as long as you do not use the Power and know where to strike. You just have to cut the beast to pieces until it is dead."
"Oh yes, it's a piece of cake," Neya said, rolling her eyes. "That's not what I meant, though." He frowned slightly. "I remember when my Da cracked a rib some years ago. For weeks he could barely move. He said it hurt to even breathe. So how do you manage to do…well, anything, really? You do feel the pain, don't you?"
"Of course I do. I simply do not allow it to come between me and whatever task I am undertaking. Not unless I want it to," Bao amended.
She chuckled softly. "I don't suppose you would give birth in my stead, by any chance?"
He seemed to think it over for a time, as if seriously considering it. "No, I would not," he said eventually. "That is not something I would ever want to experience."
"Well, you're not likely to," she pointed out. "Why not, though?"
"The pain would be too excruciating, even for me."
She stared at him incredulously. "Blood and ashes! If even you couldn't take it… That's very comforting, thank you."
"I had not realised you were so worried about it. You know that women have been giving birth since the dawn of time, do you not? Most of them survive the ordeal, some more than once. They even manage to be happy about it, afterward."
Was he being sarcastic? Neya couldn't tell for certain. "Again, not particularly reassuring." She snuggled closer to him. "And what if you're away when it happens? I can't do this on my own."
"Tarmon Gai'don will be upon us much sooner than that. But you will not be alone, even if I am not present. I will make sure of that."
She was not relieved in the slightest, but she put the matter aside for the time being. "I believe you said something about being enthroned when you came back from the Hearttomb?"
"Yes, as soon as possible," he replied.
"We should make it a proper celebration. You're officially the Wyld now, and you're the king. That calls for festivities. It will raise everyone's spirits, in light of the battle to come."
"I suppose we could do that," he said cautiously. "How soon do you think we could arrange it?"
"A week, two at most. I suppose Shendla will take care of the ritual ceremony. Taimaka will help with the rest, and Kal, too, if I ask nicely. Where are the boys, anyway? Did you take them back to the camp?" she asked as she got out of bed. It would be a stretch, but they could make it work. She had already made some preparations while Bao was away, at his request.
"No, but I told them they could open a gateway there if they wanted."
Neya put on some clothes and walked to the balcony that overlooked the gardens. Mid-spring was the best season to enjoy the view, as most of the flowers were in bloom. She had spent a lot of time down there in the past two weeks, enjoying her weak tea with Taimaka and Nyamukuta. The good thing about Sharans was that they rarely indulged in drinking wine or any sort of liquor. Well, at least it was a good thing at the moment, since those beverages were incompatible with her present condition. Bao followed her on the balcony and stood behind her, hands on her waist. "If we are going to celebrate…" he murmured in her ear.
"We certainly are," she cut in happily. She couldn't remember the last time she'd celebrated anything.
"…perhaps we should take the opportunity to be married at the same time."
Neya didn't speak for a long moment. Her mind was utterly blank. It couldn't seem to process the words. Blood and ashes! Did he just propose?
"Neya?" Bao prompted her, somewhat hesitantly. When she didn't answer, he turned her around gently. She couldn't even look at him. She buried her face in his chest, shaking helplessly. "What is the matter?" he asked with a faint trace of concern.
"You have no idea how much I'm struggling not to break down in hysterical giggles right now," she finally managed to whisper.
He sighed irritably. "I was being serious," he said, seriously indeed.
"I know. You're always serious." Inhaling deeply, she took a tiny step back to look up at him. Light, he was so beautiful. "Why do you want to marry me?" she whispered.
"If I die during the Last Battle, I want to make sure this land is left in good hands," he replied quietly.
Always the practical one, she thought wryly. "And if you live?"
His scowl deepened. "What do you mean?"
"Shendla said you needed me until the Last Battle. What if you live past it? You won't need me then. And I would be a ruler in my own right, if we were married, wouldn't I?" Neya placed a hand on her belly. "And what about the baby?"
"You misunderstand me," he said softly. It was her turn to frown. "I want to marry you, and not only for the practicalities it entails. And I thought I made it clear that I would look after the child as if it were my own." He gazed at her intently. He never said anything he didn't mean, but did it really matter, in any case? Whatever happened during the Last Battle, he would die; either the other side would execute him for his crimes or kill him in battle, or the world would end and everyone would die.
With that in mind, it seemed irrelevant whether they were married or not when it happened. If that was what he wanted, she would do it. Besides, Neya realised that she wanted it, too.
The idea of marriage had never appealed to Bao. It still did not. Attaching oneself to one woman, sharing her bed night after night, until either spouse died… Once they made it official, he could never be with anyone else. His honour would be at stake, and Bao was and always had been an honourable man.
Although, he had to admit, if it had to be done... Neya was not the worst woman to marry.
Beware the wayward queen, Moridin had told him – a stray line from the Prophecies of the Shadow that, the Nae'blis was for some reason convinced, referred to Neya. That was what had given Bao the idea of marriage in the first place. But who should beware? The Light, or the Shadow? Of course Neya appeared to serve the Light, but why would she agree to marry him if she intended to rebel against him? She wouldn't betray him, surely. She didn't have it in her.
All he had to do was to make sure that Neya was and remained loyal to him. How difficult could it be? Shendla had already assured him that she was his, that she loved him, and Shendla would never lie to him.
Moridin was fussing over nothing. Bao was increasingly certain of that.
He had D'jedt, and he had Neya, the wild card of the Prophecies; two major assets. Not to mention the resources to form a full circle and a vast army under his command. And the element of surprise – unless he was badly mistaken, no one knew where he had established himself, save Moridin.
Victory was all but assured.
Lews Therin was as good as dead, but Bao would make it last. A quick, painless death was more than the Dragon deserved.