He smiled. Despite his earlier objections his tension was easing. The food smelled good, and his stomach growled, prompting Faile to sit up and take his plate and hand it to him.
He dug in. He tried to keep his manners, but the food was excellent, and it had been a long day. He found himself ripping into the ham with ferocity, though he tried to take care not to drip on the fancy blanket.
Faile ate more slowly, the scent of amusement mixing with that of her soap.
'What?' Perrin asked, wiping his mouth. She was lit only by the candles that the sun was fully down. 'There's much of the wolf in you, my husband.'
He froze, noticing that he'd been licking his fingers. He growled at self wiping them instead on a napkin. As much as he liked wolves, he woudn't invite them to the dinner table with him. 'Too much of the wolf in me,' he said.
'You are what you are, my husband. And I happen to love what you are, so that is well.'
He continued to chew on his cut of the ham. The night was quiet, the servants having retreated far enough away that he couldn't smell or hear them. Likely Faile had left orders that they weren't to be disturbed, and with the trees at the base of the hillside, they wouldn't have to worry about being observed.
'Faile,' he said softy, 'you need to know what I did while you were captive. I did things I worried would turn me into someone you would no longer want. It wasn't only the deal with the Seanchan. There were people in a city, So Habor, that I can't stop thinking of. People that maybe I should have helped. And there was a Shaido, with his hand—'
'I heard about that. It seems that you did what you had to.'
'I'd have gone much farther,' Perrin admitted. 'Hating myself all the way. You spoke of a lord being strong enough to resist letting himself be manipulated. Well, I'll never be that strong. Not if you're taken.'
'We shall have to make certain I don't get taken.'
'It could ruin me, Faile,' he said softly. 'Anything else, I think I could handle. But if you are used against me, nothing will matter. I'd do anything to protect you, Faile. Anything.'
'Perhaps you should wrap me up in soft cloth, then,' she said dryly, and tuck me away in a locked room.' Oddly, her scent was not offended.
'I wouldn't do that,' Perrin said. 'You know I wouldn't. But this means I have a weakness, a terrible one. The type a leader can't have.'
She snorted. 'You think other leaders don't have weaknesses, Perrin? every King or Queen of Saldaea has had their own. Nikiol Dianatkhah was a drunkard, despite being known as one of our greatest kings, and Belairah married and put her husband away four times. Her heart always did lead her to trouble. Jonasim had a son whose gambling ways nearly brought her House to ruin, and Lyonford couldn't keep his temper if challenged. Each and every one was a great monarch. And all had their share of weaknesses.'
Perrin continued to chew on his food, thoughtful.
'In the Borderlands,' Faile said, 'we have a saying. 'A polished sword reflects the truth.' A man can claim to be diligent in his duties, but if his sword isn't polished, you know that he's been idle.
'Well, your sword is bright, my husband. These last few weeks, you keep saying that you led poorly during my captivity. You'd have me believe that you led the entire camp to ruin and dust! But that's not true at all! You kept them focused; you inspired them, maintained a strong presence and kept the air of a lord.'
'Berelain's behind some of that,' he said. 'I half think the woman would have bathed me herself if I'd gone another day without.'
'I'm certain that wouldn't have been good for the rumors,' Faile noted dryly.
'Faile, I—'
'I'll deal with Berelain,' Faile said. Her voice sounded dangerous. 'That's one duty you needn't distract yourself with.'
'But—'
'I'll deal with her,' Faile said, her voice more firm. It was not wise to challenge her when she smelled that way, not unless he wanted to start a full argument. She softened, taking another bite of barley. 'When I said you were like a wolf, my husband, I wasn't talking about the way you eat. I was talking about the way you give your attention. You are driven. Given a problem to solve, no matter how grand, and you will see it done.
'Can't you understand? That's a wonderful trait in a leader—it is exactly what the Two Rivers will need. Assuming, of course, that you have a wife to care for some of the smaller issues.' She frowned. 'I wish you'd spoken to me about the banner before burning it. It will be difficult to raise it again without looking foolish.'
'I don't want to raise it again,' Perrin said. 'That's why I had them burn it.'
'But why?'
He took another bite of his ham, pointedly not watching her. She smelled curious, almost desperately so.
I can't lead them, he thought. Not until I know if I can master the wolf How could he explain? Explain that he feared the way it took control when he fought, when he wanted something too badly?
He would not rid himself of the wolves; they had become too much a part of him. But where would he leave his people, where would he leave Faile, if he lost himself to what was inside of him?
He again remembered a dirty creature, once a man, locked in a cage. There is nothing left in this one that remembers being a man…
'My husband,' Faile said, resting a hand on his arm. 'Please.' She smelled of pain. That twisted his heart about. 'It has to do with those Whitecloaks,' Perrin said.
'What? Perrin, I thought I said—'
'It has to do,' Perrin said firmly, 'with what happened to me the first time I met with them. And what I'd begun to discover in the days before.' Faile frowned. 'I've told you that I killed two Whitecloaks,' he said. 'Before I met you.'
'Yes.'
'Settle back,' he said. 'You need to know the whole story.' And so he told her. Hesitantly at first, but the words soon grew easier. He spoke of Shadar Logoth, and of their group being scattered. Of Egwene letting him take the lead, perhaps the first time he'd been forced to do that.
He'd already told her of his meeting with Elyas. She knew much about Perrin, things that he'd never told anyone else, things he'd never even spoken of with Elyas. She knew about the wolf. She knew that he feared he'd lose himself.
But she didn't know what he felt in battle. She didn't know what it had felt like to kill those Whitecloaks, to taste their blood—either in his own mouth, or through his link with the wolves. She didn't know what it had been like to be consumed by anger, fear and desperation when she'd been taken. These were the things he haltingly explained.
He told her of the frenzy he'd gone into when searching for her in the wolf dream. He spoke of Noam and what he feared would happen to him. And of how it related to how he acted when he fought.
Faile listened, sitting quietly atop the hilltop, arms wrapped around her legs, lit by candlelight. Her scents were subdued. Perhaps he should have held some things back. No woman wanted to know what a beast her husband became when he killed, did she? But now that he was speaking, he wanted to be rid of his secrets. He was tired of them.
Each word spoken made him relax more. It did what the meal—touching though it had been—hadn't been able to. In telling her of his struggles, he felt some of his burden lift.
He finished by speaking of Hopper. He wasn't certain why he'd saved the wolf for last; Hopper was part of much Perrin had told before—the Whitecloaks, the wolf dream. But it felt right to reserve Hopper until the end, so he did.
As he finished, he stared at the flame of one of the candles. Two of them had gone out, leaving others still to flicker. That wasn't dim light to his eyes. He had trouble remembering what the days had been like when his senses had been as weak as an ordinary man's.
Faile leaned against him, wrapping his arm around her. 'Thank you,' she said.
He let out a deep sigh, leaning back against the stump behind him, feeling her warmth.
'I want to tell you about Maiden,' she said.
'You don't have to,' he said. 'Just because I—'
'Hush. I was quiet while you spoke. It's my turn.'
