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Navani Kholin wished she hated men. Wished that she had it in her to slap Gavilar across the face for being condesceding. She longed to be able to shatter a glass of wine over Dalinar's head and tell him to get over himself and at least try to be a decent father to his two sons.
They relied on her, but didn't seem to notice, or appreciate the genuine effort she was making as she asked them abou their day or battle plans. They didn't grasp how deep their sharp dismissals cut her.
On the night of the feast celebrating the signing of the peace treaty with the Parshendi, Navani walked in a fog to her study, seeking to retreive her notebook and jot down the ideas and equations swirling around in her head about a new fabrial design. When she opened the door, she saw Gavilar and immediately retreated.
She should've knocked first, even though it was her study. She kenw Gavilar hated to be interrupted especially when he was in one of his "meetings." She muttered an apology, and edged past him to get to her notebook.
Oh, and there was that other matter she needed to talk about with him. He was probably busy with more important things, but this would probably be the only time she saw him today, maybe all week, so she needed to take advantage of the opportunity. Just as she was about to approach him to ask about the important natter, she spied what was open on her desk that he had commandeered, a sheet of notes in Gvailar's handwriting (she hadn't actually seen his handwriting before, but since it was made up of messy letters that tried to be neated by straight lines, it was saffe to deduce that it belonged to Gavilar.)
Even worse than the notes were the book. That Gavilar had been actively reading.
A man. Reading.
Slowly Navani didn't have a purpose anymore. Gavilar didn't need her to read to him. It was as if that night, her usefullness to him, and his usefullness to her just stpped holding them together, stopped being a ffeasibe reason for marriage. Still, even this, which should belong only to women had been taken from her. Navani felt more than just sad. She also felt, confused, lonely, angry, but she couldn't express any of it, because tears or angry words would just give them more levergae to use agains her. But it wasn't something she should have to tell them. They should be able to understand how their actions suffocated her so so much. She understood that if she stepped on an ant, it was smushed, never to get back up again. But they never noticed the squelching noises under their feet, or the blood that splattered onto their toes. They didn't react at all to her pain, and that was what truly broke her.
Jasnah wouldn't put up with this. Jasnah would explain to them how inferior they were without ever loosing the poise expected of an alethi lighteyes. Jasnah's antics would give Navani gray hair before her ime, but at least Jasnah has enough will to refuse a loveless marriage.
Jasnah had a will to protect herself at all costs, and thta was the best a parent could truly he for in their child.
Navani felt an emotion which could almost be considered envy, and was disgusted by herself. Was she really as much a flawed mother as she was a failure as a wife and Queen? At the end of the day, Navani didn't have the same fighting spirit that Jasnah had. Navani couldn't punch back, so she got pushed around, and fell on the concrete, knees scraped open revealing raw, crimson flesh.
But after dusting the dirt off, she climbed right back to her feet and continued . . .
. . . loving.