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Kholinar
Kaladin broke off from the group, following Shallan into the kitchen.
“I’ll see if there’s a exit through the alley,” he called back to Adolin and Elhokar, who were sketching a rough map of the area surrounding the tailor’s shop, making sure that they wouldn’t be boxed in if the Voidbringers discovered where they were.
They can fly thought Shallan, I’m pretty sure we’re already boxed in. She was sitting by the window for the best light, the afternoon sun warming her as she sketched frantically, trying to capture the crystalline petals of the corrupted shame spren that she’d just evoked with her fall.
She knew she should feel more embarrassed, but it seemed like they had bigger things to worry about. She felt colder than she should have on this warm afternoon--perhaps it was the signs of destruction already so clear throughout the city, knowing there would be worse to come. Stepping softly, Kaladin walked over to inspect her drawings.
“Show me the others,” he said.
“Hush,” Shallan said, “let me finish this one.” She took a moment to finish the last lines of shading and then obligingly flipped through several pages, showing Kaladin the strange fear spren and glory spren that she’d sketched, finishing with the shame spren.
“I’m trying to see how many spren have been corrupted,” she explained, watching as his face caught the light of the window, creating shadows around his deep set eyes. Had those always been there? Shallan felt her stomach drop as she thought of how stressful the last few weeks must have been for him.
Kaladin nodded, then looked behind him before brushing her hair over her shoulder, running his hand down the length of her red locks. He leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips, then stood and looked around.
“What are you doing?” she asked, frowning at him. This was too dangerous, with Adolin in the next room.
“Research,” he said, frowning slightly as he drew his fingers down across her chin and then to the tightly buttoned collar of her havah.
“What--” Shallan cut off as he slowly unbuttoned the top three buttons of her collar, his work-worn fingers rough against the cloth, a look of determination on his face. He leaned in, brushing his lips against hers and then pushed her collar away from her neck, tracing his finger up her neck, following slowly with his tongue until he reached her ear. “Shallan,” he whispered, as the space around them burst into a flurry of crystalline passion spren, falling softly like snow through the sunlight.
“See,” he said, standing straight and smiling as they watched the star-like spren spin through the air. “You’ll make a scholar of me yet.” Despite the trepidation Shallan felt, she gave Kaladin a grin, hand to her throat.
“Very good” she said, feeling her cheeks flush. “At least these ones appear to be the same, so we know that all spren haven’t been corrupted.”
“Always happy to help,” he said, finally heading for the kitchen door that lead to the alleyway. The spren settled around Shallan, but before they had disappeared, Adolin walked through the door. Kaladin caught his eye nodded to him, saluting and then pushed open the door to the outside, catching Adolin’s eye so that Shallan had the chance to stand and cover the remaining spren with her skirts.
Adolin walked over, gazing behind him with a frown. “Was the bridgeboy giving you problems?”
“He’s like the spren of the Weeping, always making everything all gloomy.”
“But was he…”
“My business, dear Adolin.” She raised her chin defiantly, holding down a blush. They hadn’t talked, not really, since she’d found Janala’s glove in his bed. Storming man for making me feel guilty when he was paying the same piper.
“Elhokar needs you,” Adolin growled, blood rising on his face. “He wants to know if you can get into the palace.” He said it stiffly. Maybe said a small voice in the back of Shallan’s head, maybe you’re both at fault. Yes, he was with Janala but you let him go. Maybe you should think about your future. Maybe… Shallan shook her head to get rid of her thoughts.
“Probably,” said Shallan, “but he’ll need to be a little more specific. Does he need me to get in, and out? Or both?” Adolin shrugged.
“You’ll have to come find out.” Shallan stood, putting her sketchpad under her arm, stepping towards the door, but Adolin reached out and took her wrist, holding her softly, like she might dart away if he moved too quickly. And I might she thought, letting her hand rest in his for the moment.
“I want to start over, Shallan,” he whispered. “Coming to Kholinar, seeing the city like this…” he shook his head, overcome for a moment. “It’s made me realize that the time for childish games are over.”
“The time for childish games is usually during childhood,” Shallan said icily. “Which has been over for years.”
“Storms,” he said, “we’ve both done wrong. But I haven’t spoken to Janala since. I’ve thought about you every day, what we had Shallan, what I threw away. By the Ten Heralds, I feel like I’m being torn apart. And now that you and Kaladin are over--” she kept her face still, but Adolin broke off as he saw the truth in her eyes, taking in her unbuttoned collar with a look of pure pain.
“Storming bridgeboy,” he said, then dropped her hand and stalked from the room, trailed by boiling pools of anger spren. Instead of heading back inside towards Elhokar, he pushed out the kitchen door, into the alleyway where Kaladin had gone.
“Adolin,” Shallan shouted, dropping her sketch pad and rushing after him. “Adolin, stop.” Kaladin must have heard them coming because he was standing in the alleyway, Syl a bright spear in his hand. Shallan didn't recognize his stance, but she saw how easily he stepped into it, unlike her own studied attempts when Adolin had taken the time to practice with her. Adolin’s own shardblade dropped into his hand, beads of water running down the sides, glowing faintly even in the afternoon sun.
The last time they had fought Kaladin had simply stood there, but now he was the one to break his stance first, spinning his Syllance under his arm and rapping it sharply against Adolin’s ribs. Adolin had seen the blow coming and stepped away from it; although the impact sounded painful, Shallan didn’t hear a crack. He hadn’t broken a rib then. Using his momentum from the step, Adolin blocked Kaladin’s follow-up blow with his sword and then tried to step inside Kaladin’s guard.
Kaladin, who she could see had breathed in stormlight danced back and then in, thrusting with his spear point first. Adolin countered again and they continued, feet moving in the dusty alley in an elaborate dance. Shallan had seen both of them fight--she still trembled at the thought of them in the dueling ring against four shardbearers, but she had never seen them fight each other, sword against spear, each at the peak of their prowess. It was like watching a highstorm. It was breathtaking. And it was stupid. They weren’t here in Kholinar to take back the city, not to kill each other.
Shallan sucked in stormlight and breathed out an image of herself, identical down to her tangled hair and still-unbuttoned collar. Shallan stared at the image of herself, at the slight frown on her face, the tired circles under her eyes. Why did she look so much braver than she felt? With a sigh, she pushed the illusion of herself towards the fight, watching as it walked right into the middle of Kaladin and Adolin. Adolin swung, and then almost took off his own ear as he pulled his shardblade up short. Kaladin had his back turned when the illusion walked in between him and Adolin and so he struck it with the butt of his spear, losing his balance as his spear swung through nothing, leaving a trail of stormlight behind it.
Horrified, he turned, only to see Shallan standing down the alley. Shallan let the illusion dissolve in a puff of stormlight and Kaladin nodded, although she’d seen the panic in his eyes when he’d thought he hurt her. Both men turned down the alley to face her, breathing hard, hands still tight on the grips of their weapons.
“I am not going to stand here until one of you kills the other. I am not worth it. No one is.” Kaladin tried to say something and Adolin glared at him but she raised her hand before they could start sparring verbally. Jasnah help me she thought as she tried to stand tall. She wasn’t going to let them fight over her like she was some shardblade to be won. This was her decision, like Jasnah had said. Hers to make, hers to live with. We’ll all live with it, though. Shallan pushed the thought from her mind.
“Why don’t you listen to what I want? I want time. One week. I need to clear my head. I won’t talk to either of you before then, so don’t try.”
Adolin tried to speak and this time Kaladin was the one who glared at him. She stared down the alley at them, arms folded, until they both nodded, their weapons disappearing. Kaladin nodded to her and turned, stalking down the alley the way he’d been going before Adolin had intercepted him. Adolin looked at her, his face unreadable, and then walked past her, back inside to Elhokar. He passed so close that she could smell his sweat and and cologne, but he kept his eyes forward, not meeting hers.
She looked after Kaladin, and then back at the kitchen door Adolin had walked through. She thought, suddenly, of the other day on the fabrial lift, of the betrayal in Adolin’s eyes, of the question that had flashed through her mind: Am I strong enough to break his heart?
Standing alone in the dusty alleyway, stifling a sob with her safehand, Shallan knew that she’d been asking the wrong question. Am I strong enough to break my own?
________________________________________________________________________
Shallan could hear the distant sounds of the city settling for the night as she climbed the last few steps to the dusty attic room at the top of the house, a few homes down from the tailor's shop. They had been using it as a lookout post and she’d volunteered to take a turn, desperate to get away from Adolin’s haunted eyes and Elhokar’s confused looks.
Kaladin was standing by the window when she came up the last stair, glowing faintly in the dark. As he turned, Shallan saw the starlight reflected in his eyes. And the sorrow. It had only been five days. Shallan turned to leave, but Kaladin cut her off, raising a hand in commanding gesture. “I know it’s not time yet. And I have to be back at the wall soon, but I needed to say something.” The silence stretched between them and Shallan felt her heart pounding. There was a finality to Kaladin’s words, even though he hadn't said anything yet.
“Shallan,” he said at last, his voice soft. “I can't do this anymore.”
“Don’t,” she pleaded. He shook his head.
“I can never be enough for you. I will never be enough.” His voice broke, the last words coming out as a whisper.
Shallan laughed. It was a warm, bright sound that broke truth the tension in the room. Kaladin's eyes widened as she crossed the room to him, throwing her arms around him and kissing him fiercely. He froze for a moment before letting himself ease into her embrace.
“Those are the dumbest words I’ve ever heard you say.” She put both of her hands on his face. “How could you even think that?”
“I’m no prince, Shallan. I’m just…” he paused, his hands unconsciously moving to the brands on his forehead.
“What? A slave? A simple spearman?” even as Shallan said the words she breathed out stormlight between them,standing back to create two versions of Kaladin, one thin and ragged, the scars from captivity still fresh. The other image was him as she imagined he’d looked when he’d joined Amaram’s army, still boyish, a slightly rounder face, a thinner build. She put hope into his eyes. Kaladin looked between the two figures, wincing as he looked at both the boy and the slave.
“You are these men,” Shallan whispered, “but that’s not who I see.” She sucked in stormlight, most of what she held in her pouch, and in a sudden blaze of light, Shallan and Kaladin were circled about by a ring of figures, each in a different pose. Shallan walked back to Kaladin as he stared and took his arm, turning him around to the circle to see what she had created. Kaladin in his full uniform, inspecting Bridge Four. Kaladin diving with the Syllance, coat whipping behind him, determination on his face. Laughing with Syl on his shoulder. Kaladin holding a small child--his new brother, as she imagined him. Kaladin lying on his side, hand draped over Shallan’s waist, whispering in her ear, looking for once, as if he were at peace.
“You are enough, Kaladin Stormblessed.” Shallan said, trying to make her voice steady through her tears. She didn’t know when she had started crying. “You are more than enough.”
Kaladin turned and she saw the sorrow on his face. He was weeping, silently, tears falling from his face into Shallan’s hair as he gathered her into his arms. Even as he held her she could tell that he was pulling away.
“Kaladin,” she whispered but he was already drying his eyes.
“Don’t make this harder,” he said. “Don’t ask for what you know I can’t give you.”
“You are what I want.”
“But not who you need. Shallan, look at who you’ve made me.” She looked at the images, all of aspects of Kaladin that she’d experienced over the last months.
“I don’t see it,” she said quietly. “I’ve made you.” He shook his head, exasperated.
“Look at their eyes,” he said quietly. “You’ve made me a lighteyes in every one.”
“That’s not storming important. I would love you no matter what.”
“Oh Shallan,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “If I wasn’t a Knight Radiant, you wouldn’t even know my name.”
“That's not true,” she protested, hearing the lie in her own voice even as she said it.
“I'm a dark-eyed soldier, Shallan. If we got married would you scribe for Bridge Four? I wouldn’t ask you to give up your scholarship, but--” He shook his head. “Would you live in a captain’s quarters? Cook for yourself? You were raised for a different life, the one that Adolin can give you.”
“We could make it work. We’re Knights Radiant.”
“Oh Shallan,” he said drawing her close, kissing the top of her head. “And if I weren’t?” She fell silent, tears still falling down her face. Kaladin tipped her head up and kissed her softly, then he turned and left, leaving Shallan alone in the starlight.
________________________________________________________________________
Adolin took the last few stairs into the attic at a half-run, his head filled with visions of what might have happened to Shallan. She hadn’t come back from guard duty and he had visions of her dead, or dying, or taken by voidbringers--and there she was, curled up on the floor as if she’d been injured. He rushed over but when he pressed his hand to her side, he saw the even rise and fall of her chest and hung his head in relief. Falling asleep on guard duty; well, he didn’t need to tell Elhokar.
“Shallan,” he whispered, hating to wake her. Still asleep, she turned her face, and he saw the tracks of dried tears. He reached out a hand and then hesitated. He didn’t want her to wake up and feel like he’d taken advantage of whatever fresh grief she was wrapped in. He moved, intending to sit against the wall, but instead Shallan opened her eyes, pressing her hands against the floor and looking around a little wildly. When her eyes found his, he knew in an instant that she hadn’t been looking for him.
He realized that he didn’t care. Kneeling next to her, Adolin put out his hand and she took it and he pulled her up. She stumbled, legs stiff and he caught her. He couldn’t help himself and he swung her into his arms. She was so light and she felt so warm. He looked down at her face, but he couldn’t read it in the darkened room. Shallan didn’t say anything, but he could feel her crying into his shirt, he could see the tears leaving bright tracks down her face. He stood for a moment, caught in indecision, and then sat down, cradling her in his arms, brushing the tears from her cheeks. He stroked her hair while she cried, humming a tune he remembered his mother singing to him long ago. Eventually Shallan’s breathing slowed and he realized she’d fallen asleep.
So maybe she didn’t love him the way he loved her. There were worse things; love could grow. For now, if he could just hold her like this, if he could comfort her pain--he could live with that.
Gazing at Shallan sleeping, feeling the steady beating of her heart, Adolin felt himself let go of the hate he’d felt: his hatred for Kaladin, for not being first in Shallan’s heart, for not being strong enough to love Shallan the way she deserved in the first place. He’d never had stormlight in his veins but this sudden, rushing sense of purpose and clarity was what he imagined it felt like.
He felt strong and certain in his love. He couldn’t change Shallan, but he could change himself. He loved her. He would keep loving her, whatever her choice when she woke up, and the day after that.
And that would have to be enough.
Thaylen City
Kaladin streaked through the air, landing on the battlements, feeling an exhaustion in his bones that even the stormlight couldn’t keep at bay. He was still glowing, stormlight rising from his skin in waves. His men surrounded him, anxious after watching him fight, but he turned, feeling a pull in his bones. He knew that she would be there, even amidst the chaos and confusion, and she was, her face turned up to him like a flower to the sun.
She turned her face away.
Urithiru
Shallan awoke in the middle of the night and heard his breathing next to her, deep and steady. Her husband. She smiled at the thought. Things had not started...easily, but they had found joy together in this past year. She felt the small swell of her belly under her nightdress. There was joy yet to come. And if occasionally her heart ached, what of it? She had chosen her regrets.
She couldn’t think of why she’d woken, but restless she stirred and walked to the window. They were lucky to get a room with a balcony, which was covered with frost this time of night. She braved it without stockings, her feet numbing, feeling the wind whip her cheeks to a rosy red almost instantly.
There. In the distance, a group of Windrunners, returning from patrol, and at their head, one brighter than all the rest, falling like a star in the night. She watched until they were out of sight, still as the mountain itself, then returned to her room to crawl into bed.
Adolin shifted, turning to gather her in his arms, pressing his face against her neck, and kissing her. Shallan felt his warmth envelop her and she turned, suddenly hungry for him, kissing him until he was fully awake, eyes wide in the dark.
“I love you,” he said, sliding his hands down to her hips.
“I love you too,” she whispered, knowing it was true.
It would be enough.