slapping him on the shoulder. “A lighteyed lady can’t be attractive?”
“No.” It was as simple as that.
“You are a strange one, sir,” Yake said.
Eventually, Ivis called for Yake and Teft to stop idling and return to practice. She didn’t call for Kaladin. He seemed to intimidate many of the ardents.
Yake jogged back, but Teft lingered for a moment, then nodded toward the girl, Shallan. “You think we have to worry about her? Foreign woman about whom we know very little, sent in to suddenly be Adolin’s betrothed. Sure would make a good assassin.”
“Damnation,” Kaladin said. “I should have seen that. Good eye, Teft.”
Teft shrugged modestly, then jogged back to his training.
He’d assumed the woman was an opportunist, but could she actually be an assassin? Kaladin picked up his practice sword and wandered toward her, passing Renarin, who was training in some of the same stances that Kaladin’s men were practicing.
As Kaladin walked toward Shallan, Adolin clanked up beside him in Shardplate.
“What is she doing here?” Kaladin asked.
“Come to watch me while I spar, presumably,” Adolin said. “I usually have to kick them out.”
“Them?”
“You know. Girls who want to gawk at me while I fight. I wouldn’t mind, but if we allowed it, they’d clog the entire grounds every time I came. Nobody would be able to get any sparring done.”
Kaladin raised an eyebrow at him.
“What?” Adolin asked. “You don’t get women coming to watch while you spar, bridgeboy? Little darkeyed ladies, missing seven teeth and afraid of bathing . . .”
Kaladin looked away from Adolin, drawing his lips to a line. Next time, he thought, I let the assassin have this one.
Adolin chuckled for a moment, though his laughter trailed off awkwardly. “Anyway,” he continued, “she probably has a better reason to be here than others, considering our relationship. We’ll still have to kick her out. Can’t set a bad precedent.”
“You really let this happen?” Kaladin asked. “A betrothal to a woman you’d never met?”
Adolin shrugged armored shoulders. “Things always go so well at first, and then . . . they fall apart on me. I can never figure out where I go wrong. I thought, maybe if there were something more formal in place . . .”
He scowled, as if remembering who he was talking to, and tromped forward at a faster pace to get away from Kaladin. Adolin reached Shallan, who—humming to herself—passed him right by without looking. Adolin raised a hand, mouth opened to speak, as he turned and watched her walk farther across the courtyard. Her eyes were on Nall, head ardent of the practice grounds. Shallan bowed to her in reverence.
Adolin scowled, turning to jog after Shallan, passing Kaladin, who smirked at him.
“Come to watch you, I see,” Kaladin said. “Completely fascinated by you, obviously.”
“Shut up,” Adolin growled.
Kaladin strolled after Adolin, reaching Shallan and Nall in the middle of a conversation.
“. . . visual records of these suits are pathetic, Sister Nall,” Shallan was saying, handing Nall a bound leather portfolio. “We need new sketches. Though much of my time will be spent clerking for Brightlord Sebarial, I would like a few projects of my own during my time at the Shattered Plains. With your blessing, I wish to proceed.”
“Your talent is admirable,” Nall said, flipping through pages. “Art is your Calling?”
“Natural History, Sister Nall, though sketching is a priority for me in that line of study as well.”
“As well it should be.” The ardent turned another page. “You have my blessing, dear child. Tell me, which devotary do you call your own?”
“That is . . . a subject of some consternation on my part,” Shallan said, taking the portfolio back. “Oh! Adolin. I didn’t notice you there. My, but you do loom when you wear that armor, don’t you?”
“You’re letting her stay?” Adolin asked Nall.
“She wishes to update the royal record of Shardplate and Shardblades in the warcamps with new sketches,” Nall said. “This seems wise. The king’s current accounting of the Shards includes many rough sketches, but few detailed drawings.”
“So you’re going to need me to pose for you?” Adolin asked, turning to Shallan.
“Actually, the sketches of your Plate are quite complete,” Shallan said, “thanks to your mother. I’ll focus first on the King’s Plate and Blades, which nobody has thought to sketch in any detail.”
“Just stay out of the way of the men sparring, child,” Nall said as someone called for her. She walked off.
“Look,” Adolin said, turning to Shallan. “I can see what you’re up to.”
“Five foot six inches,” Shallan said.