noticed, he’d be thought an odd part of the fabric design—assuming, that was, he did as she’d ordered and didn’t move or speak.
“I assume your trip here was an ordeal,” Dalinar said, turning to Shallan. “Shipwrecked in the Frostlands?”
“Yes. Fortunately, I met with a caravan and traveled with them this way. We did encounter bandits, I regret to say, but were rescued by the timely arrival of some soldiers.”
“Soldiers?” Dalinar said, surprised. “From what banner?”
“They did not say,” Shallan replied. “I take it they were formerly of the Shattered Plains.”
“Deserters?”
“I have not asked for specifics, Brightlord,” Shallan said. “But I did promise them clemency for previous crimes, in recognition of their act of nobility. They saved dozens of lives. Everyone in the caravan I joined can vouch for the bravery of these men. I suspect they sought atonement and a chance to start over.”
“I will see that the king seals pardons for them,” Dalinar said. “Prepare a list for me. Hanging soldiers always feels like a waste.”
Shallan relaxed. One item dealt with.
“There is another matter of some delicacy we must discuss, Brightlord,” Shallan said. They both turned toward Adolin, loitering nearby. He smiled.
And he did have a very nice smile.
When Jasnah had first explained the causal to her, Shallan’s interest had been completely abstract. Marriage into a powerful Alethi house? Allies for her brothers? Legitimacy, and a way to continue working with Jasnah for the salvation of the world? These had seemed like wonderful things.
Looking at Adolin’s grin, however, she didn’t consider any of those advantages. Her pains of speaking of Jasnah didn’t fade completely, but she found it much easier to ignore them when looking at him. She found herself blushing.
This, she thought, could be dangerous.
Adolin stepped up to join them, the hum of conversation all around giving them some privacy within the crowd. He had found a cup of orange wine for her somewhere, which he held out. “Shallan Davar?” he asked.
“Um . . .” Was she? Oh, right. She took the wine. “Yes?”
“Adolin Kholin,” he said. “I am sorry to hear of your hardships. We will need to speak to the king of his sister. I can spare you that task, if I might go in your place.”
“Thank you,” Shallan said. “But I would prefer to see him myself.”
“Of course,” Adolin said. “As for our . . . involvement. It did make a lot more sense when you were Jasnah’s ward, didn’t it?”
“Probably.”
“Though, now that you’re here, perhaps we should go for a walk and just see how things feel.”
“I like to walk,” Shallan said. Stupid! Quick, say something witty. “Um. Your hair is nice.”
A part of her—the part trained by Tyn—groaned.
“My hair?” Adolin said, touching it.
“Yes,” Shallan said, trying to get her sluggish brain working again. “Blond hair isn’t often seen in Jah Keved.”
“Some people see it as a mark of my bloodline being impure.”
“Funny. They say the same about me because of my hair.” She smiled at him. That seemed the right move, since he smiled back. Her verbal recovery hadn’t been the deftest of her career, but she couldn’t be doing too poorly, so long as he was smiling.
Dalinar cleared his throat. Shallan blinked. She’d completely forgotten that the highprince was there.
“Adolin,” he said, “fetch me some wine.”
“Father?” Adolin turned to him. “Oh. All right, then.” He walked off. Ash’s eyes, that man was handsome. She turned to Dalinar who, well, wasn’t. Oh, he was distinguished, but his nose had been broken at some point, and his face was a tad unfortunate. The bruises didn’t help either.
In fact, he was downright intimidating.
“I would know more of you,” he said softly, “the precise status of your family, and why you are so eager to be involved with my son.”
“My family is destitute,” Shallan said. Frankness seemed the right approach with this man. “My father is dead, though the people to whom we owe money do not yet know it. I had not considered a union with Adolin until Jasnah suggested it, but I would seize it eagerly, if allowed. Marriage into your house would provide my family with a great deal of protection.”
She still didn’t know what to do about the Soulcaster her brothers owed. One step at a time.
Dalinar grunted. He wouldn’t have expected her to be so direct. “So you have nothing to offer,” he said.
“From what Jasnah said to me of your opinions,” Shallan said, “I did not assume that my monetary or political offerings would be your first consideration. If such