A sudden chill ran across him, the hairs on his arms standing on end—a distinct shiver halfway between excitement and terror. A woman was channeling.
Rand raised his head and found Elayne frozen in the tent doorway. "Light!" she said. "Rand! What are you doing here? Are you trying to kill me with fright?"
He turned, settling his fingers on the battle maps, taking her in. Now here was life. Flushed cheeks, golden hair with a hint of honey and rose, eyes that burned like a bonfire. Her dress of crimson showed the swell of the children she bore. Light, she was beautiful.
"Rand al’Thor?" Elayne asked. "Are you going to talk to me, or do you wish to ogle me further?"
"If I can’t ogle you, whom can I ogle?" Rand asked.
"Don’t grin at me like that, farmboy", she said. "Sneaking into my tent? Really. What would people say?"
"They’d say that I wanted to see you. Besides, I didn’t sneak in. The guards let me in".
She folded her arms. "They didn’t tell me".
"I asked them not to".
"Then, for all intents and purposes, you were sneaking". Elayne brushed by him. She smelled wonderful. "Honestly, as if Aviendha weren’t enough . . ".
"I didn’t want the regular soldiers to see me", Rand said. "I worried it would disturb your camp. I asked the guards not to mention that I was here". He stepped up to her, resting his hand on her shoulder. "I had to see you again, before . . ".
"You saw me at Merrilor".
"Elayne . . "
"I’m sorry", she said, turning back to him. "I am happy to see you, and I am glad you came. I’m just trying to get into my head how you fit into all of this. How we fit into all of this".
"I don’t know", Rand said. "I’ve never figured it out. I’m sorry".
She sighed, sitting down in the chair beside her desk. "I suppose it is good to find there are some things you can’t fix with a wave of your hand.
"There is much I can’t fix, Elayne". He glanced at the desk, and the maps. "So much".
Don't think about that.
He knelt before her, getting a cocked eyebrow until he placed his hand on her belly—hesitantly, at first. "I didn’t know", he said. "Not until just recently, the night before the meeting. Twins, it is said?"
"Yes".
"So Tam will be a grandfather", Rand said. "And I will be . . ".
How was a man supposed to react to this news? Was it supposed to shake him, upend him? Rand had been given his share of surprises in life. It seemed he could no longer take two steps without the world changing on him.
But this . . . this wasn’t a surprise. He found that deep down, he’d hoped that someday he would be a father. It had happened. That gave him warmth. One thing was going right in the world, even if so many had gone wrong.
Children. His children. He closed his eyes, breathing in, enjoying the thought.
He would never know them. He would leave them fatherless before they were even born. But, then, Janduin had left Rand fatherless—and he had turned out all right. Just a few rough edges, here and there.
"What will you name them?" Rand asked.
"If there is a boy, I’ve been thinking of naming him Rand".
Rand let himself go still as he felt her womb. Was that motion? A kick? "No", Rand said softly. "Please do not name either child after me, Elayne. Let them live their own lives. My shadow will be long enough as it is".
"Very well".
He looked up to meet her eyes, and he found her smiling with fondness. She rested a smooth hand on his cheek. "You will be a fine father".
"Elayne—"
"Not a word of it", she said, raising a finger. "No talk of death, of duty".
"We cannot ignore what will happen".
"We needn’t dwell on it either", she said. "I taught you so much about being a monarch, Rand. I seem to have forgotten one lesson. It is all right to plan for the worst possibilities, but you must not bask in them. You must not fixate on them. A queen must have hope before all else".
"I do hope", Rand said. "I hope for the world, for you, for everyone who must fight. That does not change the fact that I have accepted my own death".
"Enough", she said. "No more talk of this. Tonight, I will have a quiet dinner with the man I love".
Rand sighed, but rose, seating himself in the chair beside hers as she called to the guards at the tent flap for their meal.
"Can we at least discuss tactics?" Rand asked. "I am truly impressed by what you’ve done here. I don’t think I could have done a better job".
"The great captains did most of it".
"I saw your annotations", Rand said. "Bashere and the others are wonderful generals, geniuses even, but they think only of their specific battles. Someone needs to coordinate them, and you are doing that marvelously. You have a head for this".
"No, I don’t", Elayne said. "What I do have is a lifetime spent as the Daughter-Heir of Andor, being trained for wars that might come. Thank General Bryne and my mother for what you see in me. Did you find anything in my notes that you would change?"
"There is more than a hundred and fifty miles between Caemlyn and Braem Wood, where you plan to ambush the Shadow", Rand noted. "That’s risky. What if your forces get overrun before they reach the Wood?"
"Everything depends on them beating the Trollocs to the Wood. Our harrying forces will be using the strongest, fastest mounts available. It will be a grueling race, there’s no question, and the horses will be near death by the time they reach the Wood. But we are hoping that the Trollocs will be the worse for wear by then as well, which should make our job easier".
They talked tactics, and evening became night. Servants arrived with dinner, broth and wild boar. Rand had wished to keep his presence in the camp quiet, but there was nothing for that now that the servants knew.
He settled himself to dine, and let himself flow into the conversation with Elayne. Which battlefield was in the most danger? Which of the great captains should she champion when they disagreed, which they often did? How would this all work with Rand’s army, which still waited for the right ti
