At last, a lightning bolt hurled Rand from the Palace wall, broken, bleeding, and burned, and as his last breath rattled in his throat, he heard a voice whisper, I have won again, Lews Therin. Selene's company was far from burdensome, but near her he could not help thinking things he should not. Neither quarterstaff nor sword would be of much use if the grolm closed with them. Apparently not loud enough for anyone else to hear, though.
She wore a riding dress, too, in blue silk with red loversknots on the bosom. As long as you know you deserved to, she murmured, then you didn't deserve to. Hurin, how is the trail? Fainter than ever, Lord Rand, but still there. He was staring at the floor again.
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