to Parshendi territory.”
“I’m sure you can protect me.”
He looked at her, expectant.
“What?” Shallan asked.
“I’m waiting for a wisecrack.”
“I was serious,” Shallan said. “With you there, I’m certain the Parshendi wouldn’t dare get close.”
Adolin smiled.
“I mean,” she said, “the stench alone—”
“I suspect I’m never going to live down telling you about that.”
“Never,” Shallan agreed. “You were honest, detailed, and engaging. Those aren’t the sorts of things I let myself forget about a man.”
His smile broadened. Storms, those eyes . . .
Careful, Shallan told herself. Careful! Kabsal took you in easily. Don’t repeat that.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Adolin said. “The Parshendi might not be an issue in the near future.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “It’s not widely known, though we’ve told the highprinces. Father is going to be meeting with some of the Parshendi leaders tomorrow. It could end up starting a peace negotiation.”
“That’s fantastic!”
“Yeah,” Adolin said. “I’m not hopeful. The assassin . . . anyway, we’ll see what happens tomorrow, though I’ll have to do this between the other work Father has for me.”
“The duels,” Shallan said, leaning in. “What is going on there, Adolin?”
He seemed hesitant.
“Whatever is going on in the camps now,” she said, speaking more softly, “Jasnah didn’t know about it. I feel woefully ignorant about politics here, Adolin. Your father and Highprince Sadeas had a falling-out, I’ve gathered. The king has changed the nature of these plateau runs, and everyone is talking about how you’re dueling now. But from what I’ve been able to gather, you never stopped dueling.”
“It’s different,” he said. “Now I’m dueling to win.”
“And you didn’t before?”
“No, then I dueled to punish.” He glanced about, then met her eyes. “It began when my father started seeing visions . . .”
He continued. He poured out a surprising story, one with far greater detail than she’d anticipated. A story of betrayal, and of hope. Visions of the past. A unified Alethkar, prepared to weather a coming storm.
She didn’t know what to make of it all, though she gathered that Adolin was telling her of it because he knew the rumors in camp. She’d heard of Dalinar’s fits, of course, and had an inkling of what Sadeas had done. When Adolin mentioned that his father wanted the Knights Radiant to return, Shallan felt a chill. She glanced about for Pattern—he’d be close—but couldn’t find him.
The meat of the story, at least in Adolin’s estimation, was the betrayal by Sadeas. The young prince’s eyes grew dark, face flushed, as he talked of being abandoned on the Plains, surrounded by enemies. He seemed embarrassed when he spoke of salvation by a lowly bridge crew.
He’s actually confiding in me, Shallan thought, feeling a thrill. She rested her freehand on his arm as he spoke, an innocent gesture, but it seemed to spur him forward as he quietly explained Dalinar’s plan. She wasn’t certain he should be sharing all of this with her. They barely knew one another. But speaking of it seemed to lift a weight from Adolin’s back, and he grew more relaxed.
“I guess,” Adolin said, “that’s the end of it. I’m supposed to win Shardblades off the others, taking away their bite, embarrassing them. But I don’t know if it will work.”
“Why not?” Shallan asked.
“The ones who agree to duel me aren’t important enough,” he said, forming a fist. “If I win too much from them, the real targets—the highprinces—will get scared of me and refuse duels. I need matches that are more high profile. No, what I need is to duel Sadeas. Pound that grinning face of his into the stones and take back my father’s Blade. He’s too oily, though. We’ll never get him to agree.”
She found herself wishing desperately to do something, anything, to help. She felt herself melting at the intense concern in those eyes, the passion.
Remember Kabsal . . . she reminded herself again.
Well, Adolin wasn’t likely to try to assassinate her—but then, that didn’t mean she should let her brain turn to curry paste around him. She cleared her throat, tearing her eyes away from his and looking down at her sketch.
“Bother,” she said. “I’ve left you upset. I’m not very good at this wooing thing.”
“Could have fooled me . . .” Adolin said, resting his hand on her arm.
Shallan covered another blush by ducking her head and digging into her satchel. “You,” she said, “need to know what your cousin was working on before she died.”
“Another volume in her father’s biography?”
“No,” Shallan said, getting out a sheet of paper. “Adolin, Jasnah thought