Her dark brows and darker eyes were a sharp contrast to the multitude of pale honey braids brushing her shoulders, but the combination was not uncommon in Tarabon. Cuendillar. A man channeling; my mother used to frighten me with that, when I was little. But he could not look there, where other eyes than his might see.
She hated the fact that she could never sneak up on him, however softly she stepped. What dagger? Liandrin asked. She had been afraid that it would. Nynaeve felt cold to her bones.
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