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She also glances at Raven, at this, with a slightly narrowed gaze.

"It is not as though I did not tell them," she informs him.

Raven does not stick his tongue out at her.

She should be pleased.

He does, however, lift his foot and poke at her, mouth quirked in an almost wry smile.

"Possibly one day you will tell me things, too, yes?"

He doesn't bat his lashes, either.

Much.

...He's fluttering his eyelashes.

There are so many reasons Lan is not making any expression at all right now.

And now, of course, would be the time Nynaeve comes back with the tea.

She pauses briefly on the threshold, eyebrows hitting her hairline.

Then, very carefully, she lowers the tray onto a table, then stands, one hand tugging at her braid.

"If you are quite finished flirting, I do believe the tea is ready."

Her narrow-eyed glare is fixed firmly on Raven and Moiraine.

He is, it would appear, aiming for an ear-boxing of epic proportions.

Moiraine may be next.

Moiraine's eyes widen abruptly, at this.

"It is not like--"

She sounds almost half-strangled, just for a moment, then stops speaking and takes a breath.

"I believe that you have mistaken what you have seen, Nynaeve," she continues, calmly, even as she becomes aware of her dressing gown and Raven's presence in a chair in her bedchamber when they entered. She resists the impulse to sigh.

"This is simply Raven's way, when it comes to certain people, of whom I am one."

She glances at Raven.

"Is it not so?"

There is, however, no doubt in her tone.

Raven grins at her, bright and affectionate.

He might also poke her again with his foot.

"It is the benefit of siblings, I am thinking, yes?"

Benefit is, at the moment, perhaps too strong a word.

It is a pity.

...Siblings.

Right.

It's Lan's eyebrows that rise, this time.

(If Raven is a Damodred from Cairhien, Lan is an Aiel.)

"Siblings."

Nynaeve's tone is flat, and she tugs even harder on her hair.

"You and tha--"

She cuts herself off, almost ruthlessly.

"With Raven."

Her eyes narrow even more, mouth pressing into a tight line.

"Are you quite mad?"

Moiraine's chin rises an inch as she meets Nynaeve's gaze with a flat, level one of her own.

"I am not, as it happens. You may regard it as a sort of informal adoption, if you prefer; it is how I myself best understand it, in any case."

Raven laughs.

"She is, I think, not so much the mad one."

Then he shrugs again.

"And I am mostly not overly picky with words, so."

In some universe that is possibly a helpful answer.

Someone should inform Raven that if he has to take lessons in clear speaking from an Aes Sedai, he has problems.

"mm," says Lan, just as helpfully.

This revelation alters several things, and nothing.

Nynaeve's mouth tightens, and she finishes preparing the tea in silence, carefully handing out full cups.

"Well, then. As long as you know what you're doing."

She does not look convinced, but on Moiraine's head be it.

Bloody stubborn woman.

She accepts her cup and curves her fingers around the porcelain shell, drawing in the warmth.

"I very often do," she murmurs.

If Nynaeve sets the teapot down very hard in the middle of that comment, it's probably just that her arm was tired.

"Hmmph."

But she settles next to Lan quietly enough, narrowed eyes fixed firmly on the Aes Sedai.

Determinedly, she takes a sip of tea.

Raven snorts, burying his face in his own cup of tea.

He might also fish a few cookies out of his pocket.

What? He is hungry!

Seeing no reason to pursue the question of siblings just now, Lan studies Moiraine instead, over a sip of tea.

"It went well, then."

It sounds like a statement; it's a question.

She studies the surface of her tea for a long moment before she looks up and meets his keen blue gaze.

"It went as well as it could."

A pause.

"Believe me, it could have been far worse."

Nynaeve's fingers tighten on her teacup but, fortunately for everyone involved, she does not throw it at Moiraine's head.

"Could it have been."

Her voice is very level, though her eyes continue to be narrowed almost balefully.

"You will be explaining that further, I trust."

Ear-boxing in Moiraine's future looks likelier by the minute.

This, of course, is the point at which Raven yawns.

And yawns.

It is really rather impressive, to some points of view.

Then he stretches, nose wrinkling.

"I have, I think, not slept for some few days, now."

He turns to Moiraine, head tilted.

"You will, perhaps, not so much mind if I am borrowing your bed?"

And then, without waiting for an answer, he stands and heads into her bedroom.

Surely it is a trick of the light that he looks a great deal shorter just before the door clicks shut.

Surely.

Lan doesn't know Raven all that well, really, but he knows him more than enough to be well aware that Raven enjoys causing a stir.

Which is the main reason of several why he shows no particular signs of even having heard that question.

Instead, "That would seem to be a blessing."

Lan, use Aes Sedai phrasing on an Aes Sedai? Perish the thought.

Nynaeve stiffens a bit as Raven stands to leave, and she does not relax much after the door closes.

She's still waiting for an explanation from Moiraine, in truth.

Her clutch at her teacup is all that prevents her from tugging her braid half out of her head.

"So it would, at that."

Moiraine sighs, very deeply, and then glances from one to the other of them.

"Tarmon Gai'don, on a smaller scale," she says, simply. "But no less important, for all that it involved only a few."

Lan's head snaps up.

He says not a word, but jaw is tight, and his eyes blaze.

"Tarmon Gai'don."

Her voice is flat.

"Tarmon Gai'don, on whatever scale, and you went alone?"

She'll never convince Nynaeve she is not mad, now.

"You're as bad as Rand bloody al'Thor!"

Moiraine's eyes narrow.

"It is not as though I was precisely expecting it," she informs them, a little tightly.