The Way of Kings - By Brandon Sanderson Page 0,397

shame on your family without attacking you—he could have implied, for instance, that you’d been negligent and foolish in not protecting the king, but that you hadn’t been behind the assassination attempt.”

Adolin nodded.

“That still could have started a war,” Danlan said.

“Perhaps,” Toral said. “But you have to admit, Adolin, that the Blackthorn’s reputation is a little less than… impressive of late.”

“And what does that mean?” Adolin snapped.

“Oh, Adolin,” Toral said waving a hand and raising his cup for some more wine. “Don’t be tiresome. You know what I’m saying, and you also know I mean no insult by it. Where is that serving woman?”

“One would think,” Jakamav added, “that after six years out here, we could get a decent winehouse.”

Inkima laughed at that too. She was really getting annoying.

“My father’s reputation is sound,” Adolin said. “Or have you not been paying attention to our victories lately?”

“Achieved with Sadeas’s help,” Jakamav said.

“Achieved nonetheless,” Adolin said. “In the last few months, my father’s saved not only Sadeas’s life, but that of the king himself. He fights boldly. Surely you can see that previous rumors about him were absolutely unfounded.”

“All right, all right,” Toral said. “No need to get upset, Adolin. We can all agree that your father is a wonderful man. But you were the one who complained to us that you wanted to change him.”

Adolin studied his wine. Both of the other men at the table wore the sort of outfits Adolin’s father frowned upon. Short jackets over colorful silk shirts. Toral wore a thin yellow silk scarf at the neck and another around his right wrist. It was quite fashionable, and looked far more comfortable than Adolin’s uniform. Dalinar would have said that the outfits looked silly, but sometimes fashion was silly. Bold, different. There was something invigorating about dressing in a way that interested others, moving with the waves of style. Once, before joining his father at the war, Adolin had loved being able to design a look to match a given day. Now he had only two options: summer uniform coat or winter uniform coat.

The serving maid finally arrived, bringing two carafes of wine, one yellow and one deep blue. Inkima giggled as Jakamav leaned over and whispered something in her ear.

Adolin held up a hand to forestall the maid from filling his cup. “I’m not sure I want to see my father change. Not anymore.”

Toral frowned. “Last week—”

“I know,” Adolin said. “That was before I saw him rescue Sadeas. Every time I start to forget how amazing my father is, he does something to prove me one of the ten fools. It happened when Elhokar was in danger too. It’s like… my father only acts like that when he really cares about something.”

“You imply that he doesn’t really care about the war, Adolin dear,” Danlan said.

“No,” Adolin said. “Just that the lives of Elhokar and Sadeas might be more important than killing Parshendi.”

The others took that for an explanation, moving on toward other topics. But Adolin found himself circling the thought. He felt unsettled lately. Being wrong about Sadeas was one cause; the chance that they might actually be able to prove the visions right or wrong was another.

Adolin felt trapped. He’d pushed his father to confront his own sanity, and now—by what their last conversation had established—he had all but agreed to accept his father’s decision to step down if the visions proved false.

Everyone hates being wrong, Adolin thought. Except my father said he’d rather be wrong, if it would be better for Alethkar. Adolin doubted many lighteyes would rather be proven mad than right.

“Perhaps,” Eshava was saying. “But that doesn’t change all of his foolish restrictions. I wish he would step down.”

Adolin started. “What? What was that?”

Eshava glanced at him. “Nothing. Just seeing if you were attending the conversation, Adolin.”

“No,” Adolin said. “Tell me what you were saying.”

She shrugged, looking at Toral.

Toral leaned forward. “You don’t think the warcamps are ignoring what happens to your father during highstorms, Adolin. Word is that he should abdicate because of it.”

“That would be foolish,” Adolin said firmly. “Considering how much success he’s showing in battle.”

“Stepping down would be far too much of an overreaction,” Danlan agreed. “Though, Adolin, I do wish you could get your father to relax all of these foolish restrictions our camp is under. You and the other Kholin men would be able to truly join society again.”

“I’ve tried,” he said, checking the position of the sun. “Trust me. And, unfortunately, I have a duel