There was no returning to the White Tower as a novice, and she couldn’t wait for negotiations. Not with the Seanchan bold enough to strike the White Tower, not with Rand completely unwatched, not with the world in chaos and the Shadow gathering its forces for the Last Battle. That left her with a difficult decision. She had a fresh army of fifty thousand troops, and the White Tower had suffered an incredible blow. The Aes Sedai would be exhausted, the Tower Guard broken and wounded.
In a few days’ time, the Healings would be finished and the women rested. She didn’t know if Elaida had survived the attack or not, but Egwene had to assume she was still in control. That gave Egwene a very narrow window for action.
She knew what the only right decision was. She didn’t have time to wait for the sisters in the White Tower to make the right decision, she would have to force them to accept her.
She hoped that history would eventually forgive her.
She rose, threw open the flaps of her tent, and stopped dead. A man was sitting on the ground directly in front of her.
Gawyn scrambled to his feet, every bit as handsome as she remembered. He wasn’t beautiful, like his half-brother. Gawyn was more solid, more real. Strikingly, that now made him more attractive to Egwene than Galad. Galad was like a being from beyond reality, a figure of legends and stories. He was like a glass statue to be placed on a table for admiration, but never touched.
Gawyn was different. Handsome, with that brilliant reddish gold hair and those tender eyes. While Galad never worried about anything, Gawyn’s concern made him genuine. As did his ability to make mistakes, unfortunately.
“Egwene,” he said, righting his sword and dusting off his trouser legs. Light! Had he slept there in front of her tent? The sun was already halfway to its zenith. The man should have gone to take some rest!
Egwene squelched her concern and worry for him. It was not time to be a lovesick girl. It was time to be Amyrlin. “Gawyn,” she said, raising a hand, stopping him as he stepped toward her. “I haven’t begun to think about what to do with you. Other matters demand my attention. Has the Hall gathered, as I requested?”
“I think so,” he said, turning to glance toward the center of camp. She could just barely make out the large gathering tent of the Hall through the scrub trees.
“Then I must appear before them,” Egwene said, taking a deep breath. She began to walk forward.
“No,” Gawyn said, stepping in front of her. “Egwene, we need to talk.”
“Later.”
“No, not later, burn it! I’ve waited months. I need to know how we stand. I need to know if you—”
“Stop!” she said.
He froze. She would not be taken in by those eyes, burn him! Not right now. “I said that I hadn’t sorted through my feelings yet,” she said coolly, “and I meant it.”
He set his jaw. “I don’t believe that Aes Sedai calmness, Egwene,” he said. “Not when your eyes are so much more truthful. I’ve sacrificed—”
“You’ve sacrificed?” Egwene interrupted, letting a little anger show. “What about what I sacrificed to rebuild the White Tower? Sacrifices that you undermined by acting against my express wishes? Did Siuan not tell you that I had forbidden a rescue?”
“She did,” he said stiffly. “But we were worried about you!”
“Well, that worry was the sacrifice I demanded, Gawyn,” she said, exasperated. “Don’t you see what a distrust you have shown me? How can I trust you if you will disobey me in order to feel more comfortable?”
Gawyn didn’t look ashamed; he just looked perturbed. That was actually a good sign—as Amyrlin, she needed a man who would speak his mind. In private. But in public she’d need someone who supported her. Couldn’t he see that?
“You love me, Egwene,” he said stubbornly. “I can see it.”
“Egwene the woman loves you,” she said. “But Egwene the Amyrlin is furious with you. Gawyn, if you’d be with me, you have to be with both the woman and the Amyrlin. I would expect you—a man who was trained to be First Prince of the Sword—to understand that distinction.”
Gawyn looked away.
“You don’t believe it, do you?” she asked.
“What?”
“That I’m Amyrlin,” she said. “You don’t accept my title.”
“I’m trying to,” he said as he looked back at her. “But bloody ashes, Egwene. When we parted you were just an Accepted, and that wasn’t so long ago. Now they’ve named you Amyrlin? I don’t know what to think.”
“And you can’t see how your uncertainty undermines anything we could have together?”
“I can change. But you have to help me.”