Even the ground seemed to pound beneath his boots. She had not been Queen then—and was not yet, really, until she was crowned in Caemlyn—but Elayne seemed a pleasant young woman, and pretty, though he was not partial to fair-haired women. Nynaeve jumped, and tried to pull her toward the door, but she stood her ground. At him, not Aram.
Myrelle's hat cast shadows on her face. The Foretelling. In that case, Mother, if you will forgive me, there's a man in Lord Bryne's camp. Let's be gone before we are seen.
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