asked, frowning.
“I remembered something from King Gavilar’s biography. It would require you to win a duel in a spectacular way, though. Something amazing, something that would awe the crowd.”
“Fewer boos, then,” Adolin said, scratching at his head.
“I think everyone would appreciate that,” Renarin noted from beside the door.
“Spectacular . . .” Adolin said.
“I’ll explain more tomorrow,” Shallan said.
“What happens tomorrow?”
“You’re feeding me dinner.”
“I am?”
“And taking me on a walk,” she said.
“I am?”
“Yes.”
“I’m a lucky man.” He smiled at her. “All right, then, we can—”
The door slammed open.
Adolin’s bridgeman guards jumped, and Renarin cursed, standing up. Adolin just turned, gently moving Shallan to the side so he could see who was standing beyond. Relis, current dueling champion and Highprince Ruthar’s eldest son.
As expected.
“What,” Relis demanded, stalking into the room, “was that?” He was followed by a small gaggle of other lighteyes, including Brightlady Istow, the highjudge. “You insult me and my house, Kholin.”
Adolin clasped his gauntleted hands behind his back as Relis stalked right up to him, shoving his face into Adolin’s.
“You didn’t like the duel?” Adolin asked casually.
“That was not a duel,” Relis snapped. “You embarrassed my cousin by refusing to fight properly. I demand that this farce be invalidated.”
“I’ve told you, Prince Relis,” Istow said from behind. “Prince Adolin didn’t break any—”
“You want your cousin’s Plate back?” Adolin asked quietly, meeting Relis’s eyes. “Fight me for it.”
“I won’t be goaded by you,” Relis said, tapping the center of Adolin’s breastplate. “I won’t let you pull me into another of your dueling farces.”
“Six Shards, Relis,” Adolin said. “Mine, those of my brother, Eranniv’s Plate, and your cousin’s Plate. I wager them all on a single bout. You and me.”
“You are a dunnard if you think I’ll agree to that,” Relis snapped.
“Too afraid?” Adolin asked.
“You’re beneath me, Kholin. These last two fights prove it. You don’t even know how to duel anymore—all you know are tricks.”
“Then you should be able to beat me easily.”
Relis wavered, shifting from one foot to the other. Finally, he pointed at Adolin again. “You’re a bastard, Kholin. I know you fought my cousin to embarrass my father and myself. I refuse to be goaded.” He turned to leave.
Something spectacular, Adolin thought, glancing at Shallan. Father asked for fanfare. . . .
“If you’re afraid,” Adolin said, looking back to Relis, “you don’t have to duel me alone.”
Relis stopped in place. He looked back. “Are you saying you’ll take me on with anyone else at the same time?”
“I am,” Adolin said. “I’ll fight you and whomever you bring, together.”
“You are a fool,” Relis breathed.
“Yes or no?”
“Two days,” Relis snapped. “Here in the arena.” He looked to the highjudge. “You witness this?”
“I do,” she said.
Relis stormed out. The others trailed after. The highjudge lingered, regarding Adolin. “You realize what you have done.”
“I know the dueling conventions quite well. Yes. I’m aware.”
She sighed, but nodded, walking out.
Peet closed the door, then looked at Adolin, raising an eyebrow. Great. Now he was getting attitude from the bridgemen. Adolin sank back down on the bench. “Will that do for spectacular?” he asked Shallan.
“You really think you can beat two at once?” she asked.
Adolin didn’t reply. Fighting two men at once was hard, particularly if they were both Shardbearers. They could gang up on you, flank you, blindside you. It was far harder than fighting two in a row.
“I don’t know,” he said. “But you wanted spectacular. So I’ll try for spectacular. Now, I hope you actually have a plan.”
Shallan sat down next to him. “What do you know of Highprince Yenev . . . ?”
There came also sixteen of the order of Windrunners, and with them a considerable number of squires, and finding in that place the Skybreakers dividing the innocent from the guilty, there ensued a great debate.
—From Words of Radiance, chapter 28, page 3
Shallan stepped from the carriage into a light rainfall. She wore the white coat and trousers of the darkeyed version of herself that she’d named Veil. Rain sprinkled on the brim of her hat. She’d spent too long talking with Adolin after his duel, and had needed to rush to make it to this appointment, which was happening in the Unclaimed Hills a good hour’s ride out of the warcamps.
But she was here, in costume, on time. Barely. She strode forward, listening to the rain patter on stone around her. She had always liked rainfalls like these. The younger sisters of highstorms, they brought life without the fury. Even the desolate stormlands here west of the warcamps