Nynaeve stood there, glowering, her lips growing tighter and tighter. He chased Nerim away and dressed himself, eating the last of the bread and cheese from the night before while he did, then went to check on Olver. In public. She would not have admitted it under torture, but the heat made her afraid.
It was Rand's turn to blush, and scrub a hand through his hair. But if I may suggest. She tilted her eyes up to Min. In his circumstances, Lan was hardly an easy present to hand anyone, but bond or no bond, he belonged to Nynaeve more than he ever would to Myrelle.
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