They were all assembled outside the Capital, the entire army, soldiers and channelers alike. Bao intended to make a grand entrance on the battlefield, bringing everyone through the gateway at once, using a full circle.

Neya stood apart from the crowd, not far from where Kalayaan was whispering to Torn, with Abrazo shadowing his every move, as usual. Predictably, Kal had been named leader of the male Ayyad. He was the weakest channeler by far, but he was certainly the strongest character and most sensible of them all. When Torn walked away to join his own part of the army – he was to lead the Freed's foot soldiers – Neya approached Kal and Abe. After all, she might never see them again.

Kal smirked when he saw her approach. "Your Majesty," he said with mock reverence, bowing low.

Neya couldn't help a light chuckle. Sharans really cared nothing for etiquette – not that she minded. "Be careful out there. Look after them," she told him gravely.

"Oh, I will. And you, try not to get into too much trouble while I'm gone. Even if it's just a few hours."

"Of course, you know me. It will be just the right amount of trouble." Neya returned his grin in full, trying to appear more cheerful than she felt.

Kalayaan shook his head ruefully. "You will be a terrible mother."

"Don't say that! As if I wasn't worried enough." The feeling that she would be a worthless mother nagged at her constantly.

Kal waved a hand dismissively. "Don't be silly. You'll be just fine. Besides, you're already a mother, in a way. A fairly decent one, I suppose, although I don't have anyone to measure you up against," he went on with a shrug.

Now she felt like crying. She often did, these days. She turned to Abe. "Make sure Kal doesn't do anything stupid, will you?" The big man bent down to give her a crushing hug.

She returned it with every ounce of strength she could muster, until Kalayaan coughed discreetly. Neya let go to look at him questioningly. "Who else knows about this…plan of yours? Shendla? Taimaka?" he asked her in a low voice.

"It's hardly a plan." It scarcely deserved to be called that at all. It was simple: Abe would open a gateway and, unbeknownst to Bao, Neya would seek Rand, or whomever was in charge of the armies of the Light, and then she would…improvise. She would allow her ta'veren magic to guide her and hope for the best. She couldn't think of anything else to do, at this point, and no one had come forward with a better suggestion "I wish Shendla had provided more help, more advice," Neya went on wistfully, "or, even better, straightforwardly told me what she expected me to do." Burn the woman. Talking to her was like talking to a wall. She spoke only in riddles. "But she will know what to do when the time comes, I'm sure. Taimaka knows to expect...something and to stand ready, but I haven't dared tell anyone else. I can't afford to trust anyone else, not with this."

"Mintel?"

Neya shook her head. "Not even him. I'm afraid he might talk to Bao, thinking to act for my own good – or Bao's. It's really just the three of us. And Torn, I suppose."

Kal nodded briefly. "We'll be ready for you." He gave her a shallow bow. He seemed to mean it, this time. "I'll see you on the other side, ina." With that, he turned to prepare his men for departure, Abe trailing after him.

Neya watched them walk away, feeling sombre and uncharacteristically pessimistic. Light, let them be safe. She put a hand on her belly. She'd already lost Mazrim, she couldn't afford to lose anyone else.

Light, Mazrim. She still couldn't believe he was dead. She'd been so certain that she would know, if anything happened to him, bond or no bond. She hadn't asked Bao for details. What was the point? If he was dead, there was nothing she could do about it. She just hoped that her husband wasn't in any way responsible for Mazrim's demise. She didn't think she could ever forgive him for that – which was precisely why she hadn't enquired. She had to remain focused on the task at hand. There was too much at stake.

Bao and his army of channelers had practiced linking in a full circle for the past few days. It was an impressive display, Neya had to admit. With Sakarnen at his disposal, Bao would be practically invincible. She didn't dare imagine the damage he may wreak on the forces of the Light before she had a chance to do anything. She could only hope that Lews Therin – burn her, Rand! His name is Rand – wouldn't rise up to the challenge of a duel, which was certainly Bao's intention. As long as the Dragon Reborn remained out of his reach, Neya was convinced that Bao would take his time, that he wouldn't do anything rash. He would toy with the Light's commander until his challenge was met. Killing Rand was his objective; everything else was trifling. Until he had Rand's corpse at his feet, the battle would rage on.

Neya would have to act quickly once she was on the other side, but she couldn't leave right away. They had to let Bao demonstrate his might, so that his enemies understood that he would prove much more valuable alive than dead, that he could become a serious asset. Kal would determine when the time to open a gateway for Neya was best. She trusted his judgement.

Bao's power, combined with all the forces of the Light, whatever they may be, would easily put an end to the battle. They would crush the Trollocs and Myrddraal, lay waste to the Black Ajah. Surely the Shadow couldn't have gained many more allies than that. The Seanchan, revolting as their customs may be, must have rallied Rand's side, and most of the Forsaken had been disposed of, it seemed.

The Wyld would even have his moment of glory, as saviour not only of the Sharans, but of the entire world. Rand, if he had any brains left, if he hadn't gone utterly mad, would have no choice but to acknowledge this publicly - provided that the Dragon Reborn survived. Neya could only hope that it would satisfy Bao.

She was so lost in contemplation that she didn't hear Mintel approach. She welcomed him with a warm smile when she noticed him. "I know what you're going to say," she told the old man. "It's only sensible for me to stay behind, I'm the Queen, and the battlefield is no place for a pregnant woman," she said bitterly.

The abrishi surprised her with a hearty chuckle. "Why, I would never. The reason we are not taking you with us is that, were you on that battlefield, you would destroy the enemy before any of us had a chance to act." He beamed at her, and she returned his grin.

"I'm just so worried," Neya admitted. "They're all so young. Galbrait has to be the oldest person around, excluding you."

"Galbrait is much older than me, mala. She's over five hundred years old, I think, and she has led the Ayyad for at least a century." Neya stared at him in disbelief. Five hundred years old? Mintel had previously hinted at Galbrait's old age, but… "That's impossible. Bao said that only the channelers of the Fabled Age lived that long." That was what the Sharans called the Age of Legends.

"Then Bao is wrong. Or perhaps only your…Aes Sedai have shorter life spans, for some reason."

Light! How had she not known that before? Egwene had informed her that Aes Sedai lived longer than non-channelers, but not that long. Taimaka had never mentioned her own age. Was Bao aware of this? Neya would have to investigate when…well, she would investigate if she survived the Last Battle. She couldn't imagine living hundreds of years. The very idea made her feel queasy. Being immortal had definitely not suited Elan. For that matter, most of the Forsaken were…perturbed, at best, if not downright insane.

She shivered. Mintel gave her a pat on the shoulder. "Do not worry, mala. The Wyld will keep everyone safe." He sounded so earnest. Did he know what she had in mind? Neya knew how much faith he had in Bao. Mintel would gladly give his life for Bao's, if it ever came to that. She hoped it wouldn't.

The Wyld himself was walking toward them. He had already donned his armour. It had to be the most bizarre suit of armour Neya had ever seen – not that she had seen many sorts of armours, admittedly. It seemed to be made entirely of shiny coins, so bright and polished that they reflected the fading light of the evening. It looked absolutely ridiculous.

Of course, Bao looked quite fetching in it – he looked good in everything, or nothing – but it seemed utterly unpractical and unnecessarily showy. It was very much unlike Bao to don such a thing, but Shendla had been adamant. It was the armour of the Wyld, kept in pristine condition for millennia in the Citadel. It was amazing that it had survived for so long. Then again, no Sharan would dare touch it for unholy purposes. The Prophecies were possibly the only thing that united everyone, rich or poor, high or low. The armour fitted Bao perfectly; no alteration had been necessary. It truly had been made for him.

"We are almost ready," Bao announced quietly. "Mintel, would you mind keeping an eye on the recruits you brought in? Some of them are quite unruly."

The old man chuckled. "Of course they are, my boy. Most of them are barely older than Cailin, and uncouth villagers besides." Cailin was the youngest female Ayyad, a girl of sixteen, but she was uncommonly strong with weaves of Fire and Earth, which was why Bao insisted on her coming along despite her young age – after assuring both Neya and Galbrait that she would be kept as far back from the first lines as possible. Galbrait was not a particularly likeable woman, but she was sensible and looked out for the women placed in her care.

After Mintel bade her goodbye, promising to keep his good eye on everyone, Bao turned to Neya. "We must leave now." He had a peculiar look on his face, but she couldn't determine what it was. "Try not to start a war while we are gone," he went on with a deadpan expression.

Neya arched an eyebrow. "That sounded suspiciously like an attempt at making a jest."

"I may be a bit rusty."

She grinned at him delightedly. He did have a sense of humour, somewhere deep inside. "That's alright. We can work on that when you get back. It's a skill like any other: you need to hone it and practice it more often."

That earned her a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth. I will make him smile one day, Neya vowed again, as she had at their wedding.

She wasn't entirely certain he could bend down with his armour, so she lifted herself up on small platform of Air to kiss him. Not for the last time, hopefully.

When he was gone, when everyone had left through the monstrous gateway, with blood-curling screams resounding from the battlefield, Neya rode her horse back to the palace in all haste. She had much to do. She wasn't worried about anyone questioning her motives, however. That was one of the perks of being a queen: people rarely stopped to question your orders, no matter how whimsical they appeared.