A better coat than the other; still wool, but of a better cut. Her equally sweaty companion, in the dark, plainly cut woolens of a merchant, was a head taller, no older than Nynaeve, with dark tilted eyes, a strongly hooked nose, and a wide mouth. hed her with startlingly blue eyes from a deep, cushioned armchair in front of a marble fireplace where flames danced along long logs. Mat snagged it out of the air without thinking.
Now in exile and believed dead, murdered by the Dragon Reborn, or so many think. He had to be sane. Not for the first time, Perrin wished he could understand it, but a Maiden would give up the spear to marry a toad before teaching their handtalk to a man. I don't care how they're treated! They deserve a dungeon! Perrin's hackles stirred as Rand's eyes lowered from the vaulted ceiling.
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