Bao stared blankly at the stack of papers heaped in front of him. Around him, two dozen people were talking over each other, every one of them trying to speak louder than the other. The cacophony made his head ache.
It really was adding insult to injury, that he had to sign this…Dragon's Peace.
Lews Therin was dead – again – and Bao had had nothing to do with it. He had not even had the chance to go anywhere near his ancient enemy as he lay dying. His tent had been heavily guarded. Not that Bao would have done anything, of course. Striking down a moribund foe was cowardice. It would not have proved Bao's superior skill.
In any case, Bao found that he did not care as much as he would have imagined, that he was not the one who had dealt the fatal blow. Lews Therin was dead. That was all that mattered. This new age belonged to Bao, and him alone. There would be no competition. Who could possibly rival him now, or overshadow him?
The words danced on the pages as his vision blurred. Bao rubbed his eyes forcefully. He had not slept yet, not since he had returned from the battlefield to the news that Neya was unconscious, her condition uncertain.
He had tried to visit her, but her father would not allow it. Bao had considered moving past the man regardless, but given his last conversation with Neya, Bao doubted that she would forgive any rudeness directed at her father. Not that Bao would have been uncivil, necessarily, but he might have knocked the old man out just to see Neya. In the end, he had thought better of it. Neya needed to rest, and the Healers Bao had questioned had assured him that the baby was fine.
Mandragoran had insisted that Bao should rest, as well, but he could not – would not – sleep until Neya was awake. It was his fault that she had nearly burned herself out. That she had nearly died.
He had had no idea that his wife shared a bond with Taim.
A bond. This had to be the most ridiculous invention of this primitive age. What good could it possibly do? What was the point? Bao was still fuming about it. How dared Taim bond his wife? How dared he keep such a secret from the Chosen? Bao wished he had killed the man when he had the chance – or better yet, that he had never rescued him from the Red Ajah, despite Moridin's orders.
Had Moridin known about the bond? Bao would not put it past the bloody Nae'blis, may he never wake up again.
What were they going to do now, provided that both Neya and Taim awakened? Surely Neya had not negotiated their banishment to Shara in the hopes that Bao and Taim would share her. Surely not. That was inconceivable.
In any case, if Bao had known about that cursed bond, he would have insisted that Taim remain safely behind, or that he sever it – though it was unlikely that either of them would have agreed to that.
Asmodean was a Light-blinded fool. Why had he not said anything, if he knew? How had he not considered the possibility of Taim being killed, how had he not understood the danger it would represent to Neya? Well, the Musician had always been rather dense, and entirely self-centred. It was a good thing that he had burned himself out; it was a fitting punishment for what had almost befallen Neya. Asmodean seemed unconcerned and told everyone who would listen that Neya would Heal him as soon as she was awake, but Bao doubted it. Neya could Heal anything, but in this case there simply was nothing to Heal. Capable as she may be, she could not generate the ability to channel out of thin air. No one could. Not even Shai'tan, or the Creator itself.
There was a sudden hush inside the tent, and Bao peered over his shoulder. Several people had gathered toward the entrance, hiding his view of the person, or people, who had just walked in. Bao considered seizing the Source to heighten his senses and hear what was being said, but it was not necessary. The man who spoke was loud enough to be heard across the battlefield, all the way to the Sharan camp – or what was left of it. "Blood and ashes, what are you doing here? You should be in bed! You need rest, sweetheart." Bao frowned. That voice…it was Neya's father. Was she…? He started to rise from his seat. He wanted to go to her, and he would trample everyone to reach her if need be, but he hesitated. Now that Neya was here, now that he had to face her, Bao realised that he did not know what to tell her. He had treated her quite roughly and unfairly, after she had betrayed…that was, when she had finally made him see sense, as several people had put it.
Bao felt a familiar tingling sensation as one of the women embraced saidar. "You do need to rest, Neya," a female voice said sternly. "I don't know how you did what you did, but you've exhausted yourself almost to the point of no return. You're lucky you didn't burn yourself out," she added briskly. Her tone reminded Bao painfully of Shendla. He wished he had been the one to deliver the fatal blow to Moghedien, but al'Vere had beaten him to it. Bao really had not done much of note during the battle, all things considered. It had been a waste of his abilities, sending him on the field. He should have been put in charge of the armies; Bao felt certain that many disasters would have been averted, if he had led the Light to victory, instead of that improbable upstart Cauthon. There just had not been any time to argue and protest, at the time, and when the fighting at the Sharan camp had finally abated, Tarmon Gai'don was already over, thanks to Lews bloody Therin, who had, once again, stolen Bao's limelight. May the Dragon never be reborn again.
"I just need a minute, Wisdom," Neya murmured. If not for the fact that everyone was now entirely silent, Bao would never have made out her words. The crowd parted to reveal her, and Bao saw her scanning the tent. Her eyes settled on him, but she did not smile when she spotted him. That did not bode well. Neya was always smiling, even when the situation did not particularly warrant it.
She walked in his direction, taking small, careful steps. Bao stood up as she neared the table. Her face was drawn, but she seemed hale. She stopped a few feet away from him, as though she wanted to keep a safe distance between them. Darkness within, it was worse than Bao had imagined. Did she hate him? Despise him? Did she blame him for what had happened, for the way Moghedien had so easily laid waste to most of their army? If so, she would be absolutely correct. He had been distracted. It was his fault.
Then he realised that she may not know the extent of the damage, not yet. Did she know about Shendla, Mintel, Torn, Abrazo? Probably not. Torn's body had been recovered hours after the final assault, surrounded by dozens of dead Trolloc carcasses, and Abe had accidentally burned himself out; he had blasted to bits everyone in a hundred feet radius – himself included, along with his two appointed Aes Sedai. Neya would be crushed when she found out, but it could wait. First, Bao had to make peace with her. If she would allow it.
"You agreed to sign the treaty, Bao," she told him without preamble, her arms crossed protectively over her belly. "What's holding you back?"
The tent was still eerily silent. Everyone seemed captivated by their conversation. "I cannot sign it alone," he replied quietly.
Neya scowled at him. "Why ever not?" Obviously, it was not the answer she had expected.
Bao had a nagging suspicion that he had been mistaken. Neya was not angry with him – she was afraid that he was still angry with her. After everything that had happened, how could she believe that? He had almost lost her, and the baby. And, admittedly, ta'veren or not, she had been right all along. She had saved him.
Bao was tempted to embrace her, to reassure her, but still he hesitated. He did not dare make a wrong move at this point – especially in front of so many people. He had to tread carefully. "Every decision must be made consensually," he reminded her. "That is our law." From the corner of his eye, Bao caught sight of Cadsuane Melaidhrin's keen gaze. They would need to keep an eye on that one. She was likely the most dangerous person in the tent - Bao excepted, of course.
Neya stared at him wide-eyed for a second. "But… I'm not…" she stammered in a puzzled voice. "I mean, I thought… Aren't you going to…" She trailed off. Bao did not say anything; he simply waited for her to find her words. "I assumed you were going to annul the marriage on grounds of treason, and cast me out," she finally managed to say, although she used the Sharan dialect they both understood. The others did not yet know that she was his wife – and the lawful queen of Shara. She must be afraid of their reaction, which made sense, and it did not help that her father was here. "It's legal for you to do that. I checked," she added with false nonchalance.
Bao was taken aback, but he hid it as best as he could. She could not mean that. "Is that what you want?" he asked her flatly, his eyes boring into hers. He had never considered casting her out, not even when she had materialised through that window several hours ago, demanding that he return to the Light. He had been caught off guard, yes, and angry at the interruption, but he would never discard her.
"Is that relevant?" Neya countered. "You don't need my consent to annul it, not on these grounds," she whispered.
The stricken look in her eyes was enough to melt what resentment he may yet hold on to. Throwing caution to the wind, Bao took a step forward but, before he could do anything else, Abell Cauthon wedged himself between the two of them. "Step back, man," he growled.
Before Bao could respond, Neya placed a hand on her father's arm in a soothing gesture. "Da, it's alright." She cleared her throat. "I don't think you've been properly introduced. Bao, this is my father, Abell Cauthon." Bao acknowledged this with a perfunctory nod.
Neya took a deep breath before continuing. "Da, this is Bao, the King of Shara." The way she paused before uttering the next two words reminded Bao of Asmodean's taste for grand theatrics and drama. "My husband."
There was a chorus of incredulous gasps and not a few colourful curses from the other people present following Neya's revelation. Her father stood stock still. "Husband?" Abell repeated slowly, as though he had never heard the word before.
Neya glanced toward said husband. Bao didn't seem to be angry with her, though it was difficult to say; his face gave away nothing. He looked absolutely exhausted, however; that much she could tell. He had finally removed his stupid coin armour and was now wearing a simple linen shirt. He appeared unhurt.
"Yes. I'm sorry," Neya went on. "I wish you could have been there for the wedding, Da. All of you. I didn't think…" She trailed off once more. By that time, she had lost all hope of ever being reunited with her family.
"But… He's… Mat says he's…" Abell seemed to be having a stroke. She couldn't blame him; it was a lot to take in.
"You married one of the Forsaken?" That was Nynaeve. How the Wisdom had changed! Where in the Pit of Doom was her braid? She looked almost naked without it. "What were you thinking?" Suddenly, she put a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening in horror. "Light! Is he the…?" she sputtered, looking at Neya, then at Bao, then at Neya again, fastening her eyes on her belly.
Neya burst out laughing.
Nynaeve looked ready to burst at the offense, but Neya couldn't help it; she had a terrible tendency to laugh in dramatic situations. This was not how she had expected the aftermath of the Last Battle to proceed. Bao took another step toward her, taking advantage of Abell's frozen posture. Neya's father didn't protest, this time; he looked dazed.
When her laughter abated, Neya realised that everyone was staring at her worriedly. They were probably wondering if she'd lost her mind during her spell of unconsciousness. Oh well, she thought wryly. The battle is over, and we won. I can afford to go mad, now.
"You did not answer my question," Bao prompted her softly.
She looked into his green eyes. His face may be expressionless, but his eyes never lied. He was obviously relieved to see her. He was not angry. He may even forgive her, one day.
Neya grinned up at him. "Of course I don't want you to annul the marriage, you woolhead," she told him fondly.
Before Neya registered what was happening, he was kissing her. In front of everyone! Light, in front of her father! It was not a light brush of the lips, either. She was breathless by the time he released her. She let out a small, involuntary giggle, then cleared her throat roughly, avoiding her husband's intense gaze. "Ahem. You wanted me to have a glance at that?" she asked as collectedly as she could, pointing at the pile of documents that were scattered on the table beside them. She did her best to ignore everyone else in the tent. When Bao nodded, she sat down on one of the chairs, and a good thing too. Her knees had been ready to give out.
Nobody had been talking for a long moment now, but as Neya perused the Dragon's Peace, the tent broke out into a cacophony of exclamations and clamours. She let it all wash over her as Bao took place beside her, placing his hand lightly over hers. She gave him a delighted smile before returning her attention to the papers.