Morgase closed her mouth slowly. It was very hard not to sigh. A few tendrils of smoke rose lazily in the moonlight where the job had not been well done. She and Elayne had not reached the point of adopting each other as first-sisters yet, but she was sure they would, now.
Convulsively he hurled the Dragon Scepter. Aram was peering at Colavaere, his lips pursed in dark thought; the man would do anything for Faile. The Wise Ones loped forward as easily as if on level ground. Light, he tried so hard to be iron, to be what he thought the Dragon Reborn must, but it cut him when somebody died because of him, Colavaere probably no less than Pel.
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