The Way of Kings - By Brandon Sanderson Page 0,467

again, hand on the back of her head, feeling her hair. He wished for the Plate to be gone, to not be separated from her by the metal.

But the time for that had not yet come. Reluctantly, he released her, turning to the side, where Renarin and Adolin were watching them uncomfortably. His soldiers were looking up at Sadeas’s army, gathering on the ridge.

I can’t let this come to bloodshed, Dalinar thought, reaching down and putting his hand into the fallen gauntlet. The straps tightened, connecting to the rest of the armor. But I’m also not going to slink back to my camp without confronting him. He at least had to know the purpose of the betrayal. All had been going so well.

Besides, there was the matter of his promise to the bridgemen. Dalinar walked up the slope, bloodstained blue cloak flapping behind him. Adolin clanked up next to him on one side, Navani keeping pace on the other. Renarin followed, Dalinar’s remaining sixteen hundred troops marching up as well.

“Father…” Adolin said, looking at the hostile troops.

“Don’t summon your Blade. This will not come to blows.”

“Sadeas abandoned you, didn’t he?” Navani asked quietly, eyes alight with anger.

“He didn’t just abandon us,” Adolin spat. “He set us up, then betrayed us.”

“We survived,” Dalinar said firmly. The way ahead was becoming clearer. He knew what he needed to do. “He won’t attack us here, but he might try to provoke us. Keep your sword as mist, Adolin, and don’t let our troops make any mistakes.”

The soldiers in green parted reluctantly, holding spears. Hostile. To the side, Kaladin and his bridgemen walked near the front of Dalinar’s force.

Adolin didn’t summon his Blade, though he regarded Sadeas’s troops around them with contempt. Dalinar’s soldiers couldn’t have felt easy about being surrounded by enemies once again, but they followed him onto the staging field. Sadeas stood ahead. The treacherous highprince waited with arms folded, still wearing his Shardplate, curly black hair blowing in the breeze. Someone had burned an enormous thath glyph on the stones here, and Sadeas stood at its center.

Justice. There was something magnificently appropriate about Sadeas standing there, treading upon justice.

“Dalinar,” Sadeas exclaimed, “old friend! It appears that I overestimated the odds against you. I apologize for retreating when you were still in danger, but the safety of my men came first. I’m certain you understand.”

Dalinar stopped a short distance from Sadeas. The two faced each other, collected armies tense. A cold breeze whipped at a canopy behind Sadeas.

“Of course,” Dalinar said, his voice even. “You did what you had to do.”

Sadeas relaxed visibly, though several of Dalinar’s soldiers muttered at that. Adolin silenced them with pointed glances.

Dalinar turned, waving Adolin and his men backward. Navani gave him a raised eyebrow, but retreated with the others when he urged her. Dalinar looked back at Sadeas, and the man—looking curious—waved his own attendants back.

Dalinar walked up to the edge of the thath glyph, and Sadeas stepped forward until only inches separated them. They were matched in height. Standing this close, Dalinar thought he could see tension—and anger—in Sadeas’s eyes. Dalinar’s survival had ruined months of planning.

“I need to know why,” Dalinar asked, too quietly for any but Sadeas to hear.

“Because of my oath, old friend.”

“What?” Dalinar asked, hands forming fists.

“We swore something together, years ago.” Sadeas sighed, losing his flippancy and speaking openly. “Protect Elhokar. Protect this kingdom.”

“That’s what I was doing! We had the same purpose. And we were fighting together, Sadeas. It was working.”

“Yes,” Sadeas said. “But I’m confident I can beat the Parshendi on my own now. Everything we’ve done together, I can manage by splitting my army into two—one to race on ahead, a larger force to follow. I had to take this chance to remove you. Dalinar, can’t you see? Gavilar died because of his weakness. I wanted to attack the Parshendi from the start, conquer them. He insisted on a treaty, which led to his death. Now you’re starting to act just like him. Those same ideas, the same ways of speaking. Through you they begin to infect Elhokar. He dresses like you. He talks of the Codes to me, and of how perhaps we should enforce them through all the warcamps. He’s beginning to think of retreating.”

“And so you’d have me think this an act of honor?” Dalinar growled.

“Not at all,” Sadeas said, chuckling. “I have struggled for years to become Elhokar’s most trusted advisor—but there was always you, distracting him, holding his ear despite my