Chapter 9 Fire to Ice
Lan had no time to protest when a woman in a black cat mask pulled him onto the floor. Once there he could do nothing but begin the steps to the music.
The woman he danced with was gracious and light in his arms; the way Nynaeve had felt when they had danced. The colour of her hair was the same shade as his beloved's and felt soft when it brushed the hand around her waist. If he stared over her head, which barely reached his chest, he could pretend she was his mashiar. But she was not. No one could be. The woman would have thinner lips or a higher voice. She would not have Nynaeve's fiery eyes. No, he could pretend.
Yana gazed up at her partner. He was even more handsome close up. She could feel his muscles through his coat and shirt and his grace was that of a swordsman. His inky black hair played on his shoulders and she longed to run her hands through it and feel it's silkiness. Even the grey streaks at his temples added to his charm. All she could see of his face were his cold blue eyes, which gazed over her head. Had they met before, outside her dreams? She had been traumatised when the Black Ajah had rescued but how could she have forgotten the man that made her heart beat faster. How could love be erased? Oh how she longed to hear his voice.
"Tell me, sir, what is your name?"
Lan was jerked out of his daydream with a voice that came from his memory. The voice he longed to hear again. It was exact, perfect yet it came from the woman in front of him. Startled he looked down into her eyes, visible behind her mask. Brown eyes he knew so well met his blue, burning into them, smouldering with intelligence and life.
Fire to ice.
"Nynaeve?"
Yana stopped moving when he said the name. It was familiar yet so strange but it felt… right. She gazed into his blue eyes that seemed to freeze her to the spot. She wrenched her eyes away, staggered backward, ignoring the other dancers.
Lan stepped forwards as she backed away. Nynaeve was alive and here but, judging by her wide-eyed stare, she didn't know who he was. Before he could say anything she turned and ran through the crowd. He followed in pursuit yet somehow he lost her in the people as if she had disappeared into the ground. No he WOULD find her; he could not lose her again.
Lan had no time to protest when a woman in a black cat mask pulled him onto the floor. Once there he could do nothing but begin the steps to the music.
The woman he danced with was gracious and light in his arms; the way Nynaeve had felt when they had danced. The colour of her hair was the same shade as his beloved's and felt soft when it brushed the hand around her waist. If he stared over her head, which barely reached his chest, he could pretend she was his mashiar. But she was not. No one could be. The woman would have thinner lips or a higher voice. She would not have Nynaeve's fiery eyes. No, he could pretend.
Yana gazed up at her partner. He was even more handsome close up. She could feel his muscles through his coat and shirt and his grace was that of a swordsman. His inky black hair played on his shoulders and she longed to run her hands through it and feel it's silkiness. Even the grey streaks at his temples added to his charm. All she could see of his face were his cold blue eyes, which gazed over her head. Had they met before, outside her dreams? She had been traumatised when the Black Ajah had rescued but how could she have forgotten the man that made her heart beat faster. How could love be erased? Oh how she longed to hear his voice.
"Tell me, sir, what is your name?"
Lan was jerked out of his daydream with a voice that came from his memory. The voice he longed to hear again. It was exact, perfect yet it came from the woman in front of him. Startled he looked down into her eyes, visible behind her mask. Brown eyes he knew so well met his blue, burning into them, smouldering with intelligence and life.
Fire to ice.
"Nynaeve?"
Yana stopped moving when he said the name. It was familiar yet so strange but it felt… right. She gazed into his blue eyes that seemed to freeze her to the spot. She wrenched her eyes away, staggered backward, ignoring the other dancers.
Lan stepped forwards as she backed away. Nynaeve was alive and here but, judging by her wide-eyed stare, she didn't know who he was. Before he could say anything she turned and ran through the crowd. He followed in pursuit yet somehow he lost her in the people as if she had disappeared into the ground. No he WOULD find her; he could not lose her again.