The Way of Kings - By Brandon Sanderson Page 0,434

a growth of tiny, fist-size rockbuds with their vines out like long green tongues. They were grouped almost like a bouquet, growing on a large oval stone placed beside the pathway.

“I suppose it’s too much to ask for you to not feel guilty,” Navani said. “Can’t you let yourself bend, just a little?”

“I’m not certain if I can. Particularly not now. Explaining why would be difficult.”

“Could you try to? For me?”

“I… Well, I’m a man of extremes, Navani. I discovered that when I was a youth. I’ve learned, repeatedly, that the only way to control those extremes is to dedicate my life to something. First it was Gavilar. Now it’s the Codes and the teachings of Nohadon. They’re the means by which I bind myself. Like the enclosure of a fire, meant to contain and control it.”

He took a deep breath. “I’m a weak man, Navani. I really am. If I give myself a few feet of leeway, I burst through all of my prohibitions. The momentum of following the Codes these years after Gavilar’s death is what keeps me strong. If I let a few cracks into that armor, I might return to the man I once was. A man I never want to be again.”

A man who had contemplated murdering his own brother for the throne—and for the woman who had married that brother. But he couldn’t explain that, didn’t dare let Navani know what his desire for her had once almost driven him to do.

On that day, Dalinar had sworn that he would never hold the throne himself. That was one of his restraints. Could he explain how she, without trying, pried at those restraints? How it was difficult to reconcile his long-fermenting love for her with his guilt at finally taking for himself what he’d long ago given up for his brother?

“You are not a weak man, Dalinar,” Navani said.

“I am. But weakness can imitate strength if bound properly, just as cowardice can imitate heroism if given nowhere to flee.”

“But there’s nothing in Gavilar’s book that prohibits us. It’s just tradition that—”

“It feels wrong,” Dalinar said. “But please, don’t worry; I do enough worrying for both of us. I will find a way to make this work; I just ask your understanding. It will take time. When I display frustration, it is not with you, but with the situation.”

“I suppose I can accept that. Assuming you can live with the rumors. They’re starting already.”

“They won’t be the first rumors to plague me,” he said. “I’m starting to worry less about them and more about Elhokar. How will we explain to him?”

“I doubt he’ll notice,” Navani said, snorting softly, resuming her walk. He followed. “He’s so fixated on the Parshendi and, occasionally, the idea that someone in camp is trying to kill him.”

“This might feed into that,” Dalinar said. “He could read a number of conspiracies out of the two of us entering a relationship.”

“Well, he—”

Horns began sounding loudly from below. Dalinar and Navani stopped to listen and identify the call.

“Stormfather,” Dalinar said. “That’s the Tower itself where a chasmfiend has been seen. It’s one of the plateaus Sadeas has been watching.” Dalinar felt a surge of excitement. “Highprinces have failed every time to win a gemheart there. It will be a major victory if he and I can do it together.”

Navani looked troubled. “You’re right about him, Dalinar. We do need him for our cause. But keep him at arm’s length.”

“Wish me the wind’s favor.” He reached toward her, but then stopped himself. What was he going to do? Embrace her here, in public? That would set off the rumors like fire across a pool of oil. He wasn’t ready for that yet. Instead, he bowed to her, then hastened off to answer the call and collect his Shardplate.

It wasn’t until he was halfway down the path that he paused to consider Navani’s choice of words. She had said “We need him” for “our cause.”

What was their cause? He doubted that Navani knew either. But she had already started to think of them as together in their eff orts.

And, he realized, so did he.

The horns called, such a pure and beautiful sound to signify the imminence of battle. It caused a frenzy in the lumberyard. The orders had come down. The Tower was to be assaulted again—the very place where Bridge Four had failed, the place where Kaladin had caused a disaster.

Largest of the plateaus. Most coveted.

Bridgemen ran this way and that for their vests. Carpenters