Towers of Midnight (The Wheel of Time 13)

No, Faile didn't want her to go. The disappearance of her troops would be a blow, in the face of that looming Whitecloak army. And Perrin would ave need of the Winged Guard again, Faile suspected.

"No," Faile said. "Leaving will do nothing for the rumors, Berelain."

"It will do as much as killing me would," the woman said dryly. "If we fought, and you somehow managed to kill me, all that would be said is that au discovered your husband's infidelity and became enraged. I fail to see ow that would help your position. It would only encourage the rumors."

"You see my problem, then," Faile said, letting her exasperation show irough. "There seems to be no way to be rid of these rumors."

Berelain studied her. The woman had once promised she would take errin. Had all but vowed it. She seemed to have backed off on that, in art, recently. And her eyes showed hints of worry.

She realizes that she let this go too far, Faile thought, understanding. Of aurse. Berelain hadn't expected Faile to return from Maiden. That was rhy she'd made such a bold move.

Now she realized she'd overextended herself. And she legitimately nought Faile unhinged enough to duel her in public.

"I never wanted this, Berelain," Faile said, walking back into the tent. And neither did Perrin. Your attentions are an annoyance to us both."

"Your husband did little to dissuade me," Berelain said, arms folded. "During your absence, there were points where he directly encouraged me."

"You understand him so little, Berelain." It was amazing how the woman could be so blind while being so clever in other ways.

"So you claim," Berelain said.

"You have two choices right now, Berelain," Faile said, stepping up to her. "You can fight me, and one of us will die. You're right, that wouldn't end the rumors. But it would end your chances at Perrin. Either you'd be dead, or you'd be the woman who killed his wife.

"Your other choice," Faile said, meeting Berelain's eyes, "is to come up with a way to destroy these rumors once and for all. You caused this mess. You will fix it."

And there was her gamble. Faile couldn't think of a way out of the situation, but Berelain was much more accomplished in this regard than she was. So Faile came, prepared to manipulate Berelain into thinking she was ready to do something unreasonable. Then let the woman's impressive political acumen attack the situation.

Would it work?

Faile met Berelain's eyes, and allowed herself to feel her anger. Her outrage at what had happened. She was being beaten, frozen and humiliated by their common enemy. And during that, Berelain had the gall to do something like this?

She held the First's eyes. No, Faile did not have as much political experience as Berelain. But she had something the woman didn't. She loved Perrin. Deeply, truly. She would do anything to keep him from being hurt.

The First studied her. "Very well," she said. "So be it. Be proud of yourself, Faile. It is . . . rare that I take myself off a prize I have long desired."

"You haven't said how we could get rid of the rumors."

"There may be a method," Berelain said. "But it will be distasteful."

Faile raised an eyebrow.

"We will need to be seen as friends," Berelain explained. "Fighting, being at odds, this will fuel the rumors. But if we are seen spending time with one another, it will disarm them. That, mixed with a formal renunciation on my part of the rumors, will likely be enough."

Faile sat down in the chair she had been using earlier. Friends? She detested this woman.

"It would have to be a believable act," Berelain said, rising and walking over to the serving stand at the corner of the tent. She poured herself some chilled wine. "Only that would work."

"You'll find another man, as well," Faile said. "Someone you can give your attentions to, for a time at least. To prove that you are not interested

Berelain raised the cup. "Yes," she said. "I suspect that would help too, if you put on such an act, Faile ni Bashere t'Aybara?"

You believed I was ready to kill you over this, didn't you, Faile thought. “I

promise it."

Berelain paused, winecup halfway to her lips. Then she smiled and rank. "We shall see, then," she said, lowering the cup, "what comes of this.

CHAPTER 19