Alliandre excused herself, leaving Perrin and his wife. She made her way over to where Berelain stood at the edge of the clearing, sipping a cup of tea taken from the pot on the fire. Berelain eyed her.
Alliandre poured herself a cup of tea, then blew on it for a moment. "They are good for one another, Berelain," she said. "I cannot say I'm sorry to see this result."
"Every relationship deserves to be challenged," Berelain replied. "And if she had fallen in Maiden an outcome all too possible he would have needed someone. It is not a great loss to me, however, to take my eyes off Perrin Aybara. I would have liked to make a connection to the Dragon Reborn through him, but there will be other opportunities." She seemed far less frustrated now than she had moments ago. In fact, she seemed to have returned to her calculating self.
Alliandre smile
d. Clever woman. Faile needed to see her rival completely beaten down, so that she would consider the threat passed. This was why Berelain let some of her frustration show, more than she normally would have.
Alliandre sipped her tea. "Marriage seems nothing to you other than a calculation, then? The advantages gained?"
"There's also the joy of the hunt, the thrill of the game."
"And what of love?"
"Love is for those who do not rule," Berelain said. "A woman is worth far more than her ability to make a match, but I must care for Mayene. If we enter the Last Battle without my having secured a husband, that puts the succession in danger. And when Mayene has a succession crisis, Tear is all too quick to assert itself. Romance is an unaffordable distraction I . . ."
She trailed off suddenly, her expression changing. What was going on? Alliandre turned to the side, frowning until she saw the cause.
Galad Damodred had entered the clearing.
He had blood on his white uniform, and he looked exhausted. Yet he stood upright, straight-backed, and his face was clean. He almost seemed too beautiful to be human, with that perfectly masculine face and graceful, lean figure. And those eyes! Like deep, dark pools. He practically seemed to glow.
"I . . . What was I saying?" Berelain asked, eyes on Damodred.
"That there is no place for romance in a leader's life?"
"Yes," Berelain said, sounding distracted. "It's just not reasonable at all."
"Not at all."
"I " Berelain began, but Damodred turned toward them. She cut off as their eyes met.
Alliandre suppressed a smile as Damodred crossed the clearing. He executed another set of perfect bows, one for each of them, though he barely seemed to notice Alliandre.
"My . . . Lady First," he said. "Lord Aybara says that, when he first approached this battle, you pled to him on my behalf."
"Foolishly," Berelain said. "I feared he would attack you."
"If fearing that makes one a fool," Damodred said, "then we two are fools together in it. I was certain that my men would soon fall to Aybara."
She smiled at him. That quickly, she seemed to have forgotten everything she'd been saying previously.
"Would you like some tea?" Damodred said, speaking a little abruptly as he reached for the teacups, which sat on a cloth away from the fire.
"I'm drinking some," she noted.
"Some more then?" he asked, hastily kneeling and pouring a cup. "Er."
He stood up, holding the cup, then seeing that she already had one in her hands.
"There are still bandages to cut," Berelain said. "Perhaps you could help."
"Perhaps," he said. He handed the cup he'd poured over to Alliandte. Berelain her eyes still holding his handed hers over as well, seeming oblivious to what she was doing.
Alliandre smiled deeply now holding three teacups as the two of them walked over to the stack of cloths to be cut. This might turn out well indeed. At the very least, it would get those blasted Whitecloaks out of her kingdom.
She walked back toward Faile and Perrin. As she did so, she slipped the blue silk shirt from the pile of cloth she'd set aside to cut. It really would make a nice sash.