Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive #4) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,497

must pull himself by his arms. And that swordsman with one arm … He was probably the best in raw skill. He couldn’t win because of his disadvantages, but he wasn’t weaker than the others.”

Shallan stilled.

“Adolin is right,” Veil said. “He’s always been right about you. Tell me. Who is the strongest of mind? The woman whose emotions are always on her side? Or the woman whose own thoughts betray her? You have fought this fight every day of your life, Shallan. And you are not weak.”

“Aren’t I?” Shallan demanded, spinning. “I killed my own father! I strangled him with my own hands!”

The words cut deep, like a spike through the heart. Veil winced visibly. But that cut to the heart somehow let warmth bleed out, flowing through her. “You have borne that truth for a year and a half, Shallan,” Veil said, stepping forward. “You kept going. You were strong enough. You made the oath.”

“And Mother?” Shallan snapped. “Do you remember the feel of the Blade forming in our hands for the first time, Veil? I do. Do you remember the horror I felt at the strike, which I never meant to make?”

Her mother, with stark red hair—a length of metal in her chest as her beautiful green eyes turned to coal. Burning out of her face. Shallan’s voice, screaming at what she’d done. Screaming, begging to take it back. Wishing she were dead. Wishing … Wishing …

Another spike to the heart. More warmth bleeding out, blood flowing with thunderous heartbeats. Veil always felt so cold, but today she felt warm. Warm with pain. Warm with life.

“You can bear it,” Veil whispered. She stepped forward, eye-to-eye with Shallan. “You can remember it. Our weakness doesn’t make us weak. Our weakness makes us strong. For we had to carry it all these years.”

“No,” Shallan said, her voice growing soft. “No. I can’t…”

“You can,” Veil whispered. “I’ve protected you all these years, but it’s time for me to leave. It’s time for me to be done.”

“I can’t,” Shallan said. “I’m too weak!”

“I don’t think you are. Take the memories.” Veil reached out her hand. “Take them back, Shallan.”

Shallan wavered. Formless had vanished like a puff of smoke, revealing all her lies. And there was Veil’s hand. Inviting. Offering to prove that Shallan was strong.

Shallan took her hand.

Memories flooded her. Playing in the gardens as a child, meeting a Cryptic. A beautiful, spiraling spren that dimpled the stone. Wonderful times, spent hidden among the foliage in their special place. The Cryptic encouraged her to become strong enough to help her family, to stand against the terrible darkness spreading through it.

Such a blessed time, full of hope, and joy, and truths spoken easily with the solemnity and wonder of a child. That companion had been a true friend to an isolated child, a girl who suffered parents who constantly fought over her future.

Her spren. A spren who could talk. A spren she could confide in. A companion.

And that companion had not been Pattern. It had been a different Cryptic. One who … One who …

Shallan fell to her knees, arms wrapped around herself, trembling. “Oh storms … Oh, God of Oaths…”

She felt a hand on her shoulder. “It’s all right, Shallan,” Veil whispered. “It’s all right.”

“I know what you are,” Shallan whispered. “You’re the blankness upon my memories. The part of me that looks away. The part of my mind that protects me from my past.”

“Of course I am,” Veil said. “I’m your veil, Shallan.” She squeezed Shallan’s shoulder, then turned toward the closed door. Had Kelek heard them talking … or … had they even spoken out loud?

Shallan surged to her feet. No. It hurt too much. Didn’t it make more sense to become what Mraize wanted? Adolin would hate her for what she did. Dalinar would hate her. Shallan represented the very thing they all said they would never do. The thing they blamed for all of their problems. The thing that had doomed humankind.

She … she was worthless. She reached for the doorknob.

You can bear it, Radiant whispered.

No. She could become Formless and join the Ghostbloods wholeheartedly. Become the woman she’d created for herself, the strong spy who lived a double life without it bothering her. She could be confident and collected and painless and perfect.

Strength before weakness, Radiant said.

Not a woman who had … who had …

Be strong.

Shallan turned, breathing out, and Stormlight exploded from her like her life’s own blood. It painted the room before her, coloring it,