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“‘Giving’ me? Is there a slave’s brand on my forehead of which I’ve been unaware?”
“I did not mean—”
“Oh hush,” Navani said, her voice suddenly fond. Dalinar stifled a sigh; though Navani had matured since their youth, her moods always had changed as quickly as the seasons. In truth, that was part of her allure.
“Did you often step aside for him?” Navani asked.
“Always.”
“Didn’t that grow tiresome?”
“I didn’t think about it much,” Dalinar said. “When I did… yes, I was frustrated. But it was Gavilar. You know how he was. That force of will, that air of natural entitlement. It always seemed to surprise him when someone denied him or when the world itself didn’t do as he wished. He didn’t force me to defer—it was simply how life was.”
Navani nodded in understanding.
“Regardless,” Dalinar said, “I apologize for confusing you. I… well, I had difficulty letting go. I fear that—on occasion—I let too much of my true feelings slip out.”
“Well, I suppose I can forgive that,” she said. “Though you did spend the next two de cades making certain I thought you hated me.”
“I did nothing of the sort!”
“Oh? And how else was I to interpret your coldness? The way you would often leave the room when I arrived?”
“Containing myself,” Dalinar said. “I had made my decision.”
“Well, it looked a lot like hatred,” Navani said. “Though I did wonder several times what you were hiding behind those stony eyes of yours. Of course, then Shshshsh came along.”
As always, when the name of his wife was spoken, it came to him as the sound of softly rushing air, then slipped from his mind immediately. He could not hear, or remember, the name.
“She changed everything,” Navani said. “You truly seemed to love her.”
“I did,” Dalinar said. Surely he had loved her. Hadn’t he? He could remember nothing. “What was she like?” He quickly added, “I mean, in your opinion. How did you see her?”
“Everyone loved Shshshsh,” Navani said. “I tried hard to hate her, but in the end, I could only be mildly jealous.”
“You? Jealous of her? Whatever for?”
“Because,” Navani said. “She fit you so well, never making inappropriate comments, never bullying those around her, always so calm.” Navani smiled. “Thinking back, I really should have been able to hate her. But she was just so nice. Though she wasn’t very… well…”
“What?” Dalinar asked.
“Clever,” Navani said. She blushed, which was rare for her. “I’m sorry, Dalinar, but she just wasn’t. She wasn’t a fool, but… well… not everyone can be cunning. Perhaps that was part of her charm.”
She seemed to think that Dalinar would be offended. “It’s all right,” he said. “Were you surprised that I married her?”
“Who could be surprised? As I said, she was perfect for you.”
“Because we were matched intellectually?” Dalinar said dryly.
“Hardly. But you were matched in temperament. For a time, after I got over trying to hate her, I thought that the four of us could be quite close. But you were so stiff toward me.”
“I could not allow any further… lapses to make you think that I was still interested.” He said the last part awkwardly. After all, wasn’t that what he was doing now? Lapsing?
Navani eyed him. “There you go again.”
“What?”
“Feeling guilty. Dalinar, you are a wonderful, honorable man—but you really are quite prone to self-indulgence.”
Guilt? As self-indulgence? “I never considered it that way before.”
She smiled deeply.
“What?” he asked.
“You really are genuine, aren’t you, Dalinar?”
“I try to be,” he said. He glanced over his shoulder. “Though the nature of our relationship continues to perpetuate a kind of lie.”
“We’ve lied to nobody. Let them think, or guess, what they wish.”
“I suppose you are right.”
“I usually am.” She fell silent for a moment. “Do you regret what we have—”
“No,” Dalinar said sharply, the strength of his objection surprising him. Navani just smiled. “No,” Dalinar continued, more gently. “I do not regret this, Navani. I don’t know how to proceed, but I am not going to let go.”
Navani hesitated beside a growth of tiny, fist-size rockbuds with their vines out like long green tongues. They were grouped almost like a bouquet, growing on a large oval stone placed beside the pathway.
“I suppose it’s too much to ask for you to not feel guilty,” Navani said. “Can’t you let yourself bend, just a little?”
“I’m not certain if I can. Particularly not now. Explaining why would be difficult.”
“Could you try to? For me?”
“I… Well, I’m a man of extremes, Navani. I discovered that when I was a youth. I’ve learned, repeatedly, that the only way to control those extremes is to dedicate my life to something. First it was Gavilar. Now it’s the Codes and the teachings of Nohadon. They’re the means by which I bind myself. Like the enclosure of a fire, meant to contain and control it.”
He took a deep breath. “I’m a weak man, Navani. I really am. If I give myself a few feet of leeway, I burst through all of my prohibitions. The momentum of following the Codes these years after Gavilar’s death is what keeps me strong. If I let a few cracks into that armor, I might return to the man I once was. A man I never want to be again.”
A man who had contemplated murdering his own brother for the throne—and for the woman who had married that brother. But he couldn’t explain that, didn’t dare let Navani know what his desire for her had once almost driven him to do.
On that day, Dalinar had sworn that he would never hold the throne himself. That was one of his restraints. Could he explain how she, without trying, pried at those restraints? How it was difficult to reconcile his long-fermenting love for her with his guilt at finally taking for himself what he’d long ago given up for his brother?
“You are not a weak man, Dalinar,” Navani said.
“I am. But weakness can imitate strength if bound properly, just as cowardice can imitate heroism if given nowhere to flee.”
“But there’s nothing in Gavilar’s book that prohibits us. It’s just tradition that—”
“It feels wrong,” Dalinar said. “But please, don’t worry; I do enough worrying for both of us. I will find a way to make this work; I just ask your understanding. It will take time. When I display frustration, it is not with you, but with the situation.”
“I suppose I can accept that. Assuming you can live with the rumors. They’re starting already.”
“They won’t be the first rumors to plague me,” he said. “I’m starting to worry less about them and more about Elhokar. How will we explain to him?”
“I doubt he’ll notice,” Navani said, snorting softly, resuming her walk. He followed. “He’s so fixated on the Parshendi and, occasionally, the idea that someone in camp is trying to kill him.”
