“The rains have been dreadful, Berelain,” Faile said. “But I’m not here to talk about them.”
Berelain pursed perfect lips. Light, but the woman was beautiful! Faile felt downright dingy by comparison, her nose too large, her bosom too small. Her voice wasn’t nearly as melodic as Berelain’s. Why had the Creator made people as perfect as Berelain? Was it mockery of the rest of them?
But Perrin didn’t love Berelain. He loved Faile. Remember that.
“Very well,” Berelain said. “I assumed this discussion would come. Let me promise you that the rumors are absolutely false; nothing inappropriate happened between myself and your husband.”
“He has told me that already,” Faile said, “and I trust his word over yours.”
This made Berelain frown. She was a master of political interactions, possessing a skill and subtlety that Faile envied. Despite her youth, Berelain had kept her tiny city-state free from the much larger and powerful Tear. Faile could only guess how much juggling, political double-dealing and sheer cleverness that must have required.
“So why have you come to me?” Berelain asked, sitting down. “If your heart is at ease, then there is no problem.”
“We both know that whether or not you slept with my husband is not an issue here,” Faile said, and Berelain’s eyes widened. “It isn’t what happened, but what is presumed, that angers me.”
“Rumors can be found in any place where people are gathered,” Berelain said. “Particularly where men gossip.”
“Such strong, persistent rumors are unlikely to have happened without encouragement,” Faile said. “Now everyone in the camp—including the refugees sworn to me—assumes that you bedded my husband while I was away. This not only makes me look like a fool, but casts a shadow upon Perrin’s honor. He cannot lead if people take him for the type of man who will run to the arms of another woman the moment his wife is away.”
“Other rulers have overcome such rumors,” Berelain said, “and for many of them, the rumors weren’t unfounded. Monarchies survive infidelity.”
“Perhaps in Illian or Tear,” Faile said, “but Saldaea expects better of its monarchs. As do the people of the Two Rivers. Perrin is not like other rulers. The way his men look at him rips him apart inside.”
“I think you underestimate him,” Berelain said. “He will overcome and he will learn to use rumor for his gain. That will make him stronger as a man and a ruler.”
Faile studied the woman. “You don’t understand him at all, do you?”
Berelain reacted as if she’d been slapped, pulling back. She obviously didn’t like the bluntness of this conversation. That might give Faile some slight advantage.
“I understand men, Lady Faile,” Berelain said coldly. “And your husband is no exception. Since you have decided to be candid, I will return in kind. You were clever to take Aybara when you did, welding Saldaea to the Dragon Reborn, but do not think that he will remain yours without contest.”
Faile took a deep breath. It was time to make her play. “Perrin’s reputation has been severely damaged by what you have done, my Lady First. For my own dishonor, I might have been able to forgive you. But not for his.”
“I don’t see what can be done.”
“I do,” Faile said. “And I’m pretty certain one of us is going to have to die.”
Berelain remained impassive. “Excuse me?”
“In the Borderlands, if a woman finds that another has been bedding her husband, she is given the option of knife combat.” That was true, though the tradition was an old one, rarely observed any longer. “The only way to clear my name is for you and me to fight.”
“What would that prove?”
“If nothing else, if you were dead, it would stop anyone from thinking that you are still sleeping with my husband behind my back.”
“Are you actually threatening me in my own tent?”
“This is not a threat,” Faile said, remaining firm. Light, she hoped this went the right way. “This is a challenge.”
Berelain studied her, eyes calculating. “I will make a public statement. I will publicly chastise my maids for their rumors, and will tell the camp that nothing happened.”
“Do you really think that would stop the rumors? You didn’t object to them before my return; that is seen as proof. And, of course, now you would be expected to act as if nothing happened.”
“You can’t be serious about this…challenge.”
“In regards to my husband’s honor, Berelain, I am always serious.” She met the woman’s eyes, and saw concern there. Berelain didn’t want to fight her. And, of course, Faile didn’t want to fight Berelain, and not just because she wasn’t certain if she could win or not. Though she had always wanted to get revenge on the First for that time when Berelain had taken her knife from her.
“I will make the challenge formally this evening, before the entire camp,” Faile said, keeping her voice even. “You will have one day to respond or leave.”
“I will not be a party to this foolishness.”
“You already are,” Faile said, rising. “This is what you set in motion the moment you let those rumors begin.”
Faile turned to walk from the tent. She had to work hard to hide her nervousness. Had Berelain seen how her brow prickled with sweat? Faile felt as if she walked on the very edge of a sword. Should word of this challenge get to Perrin, he would be furious. She had to hope that—
“Lady Faile,” Berelain said from behind. The First’s voice was edged with concern. “Surely we can come to another accommodation. Do not force this.”
Faile stopped, heart thumping. She turned back. The First looked genuinely worried. Yes, she believed that Faile was bloodthirsty enough to make this challenge.
“I want you out of Perrin’s life, Berelain,” Faile said. “I will have that, one way or another.”
“You wish me to leave?” Berelain asked. “The tasks the Lord Dragon gave me are finished. I suppose I could take my men and march another direction.”
No, Faile didn’t want her to go. The disappearance of her troops would be a blow, in the face of that looming Whitecloak army. And Perrin would have need of the Winged Guard