Dalinar frowned. He didn’t want to take the seat out of principle, but that was prideful. He would sit with this man one last time. Taravangian was one of the few people who truly understood what it felt like to make the choices that Dalinar had. Dalinar pulled over the stool and settled down.

“I would die happily,” Taravangian said, “if I could see that I was wrong. If you won.”

“I don’t think you would. I don’t think you could stand not being the one who saved us.”

“How little you know me, despite it all.”

“You didn’t come to me, or any of us,” Dalinar said. “You say you were extremely smart? You figured out what was going to happen? What was your response? It wasn’t to form a coalition; it wasn’t to refound the Radiants. It was to send out an assassin, then seize the throne of Jah Keved.”

“So I would be in a position to negotiate with Odium.”

“That argument is crem, Taravangian. You didn’t need to murder people—you didn’t need to be king of Jah Keved—to accomplish any of this. You wanted to be an emperor. You made a play for Alethkar too. You sent Szeth to kill me, instead of talking to me.”

“Pardon, Blackthorn, but please remember the man you were when I began this. He would not have listened to me.”

“You’re so smart you can predict who will win a war before it begins, but you couldn’t see that I was changing? You couldn’t see that I’d be more valuable as an ally than as a corpse?”

“I thought you would fall, Dalinar. I predicted you would join Odium, if left alive. Either that or you would fight my every step. Odium thought the same.”

“And you were both wrong,” Dalinar said. “So your grand plan, your masterful ‘vision’ of the future was simply wrong.”

“I … I…” Taravangian rubbed his brow. “I don’t have the intelligence right now to explain it to you. Odium will arrange things so that no matter what choice you make, he will win. Knowing that, I made the difficult decision to save at least one city.”

“I think you saw a chance to be an emperor, and you took it,” Dalinar said. “You wanted power, Taravangian—so you could give it up. You wanted to be the glorious king who sacrificed himself to protect everyone else. You have always seen yourself as the man who must bear the burden of leading.”

“Because it’s true.”

“Because you like it.”

“If so, why did I let go? Why am I captured here?”

“Because you want to be known as the one who saved us.”

“No,” Taravangian said. “It’s because I knew my friends and family could escape if I let you take me. I knew that your wrath would come upon me, not Kharbranth. And as I’m sure you’ve discovered, those who knew what I was doing are no longer involved in the city’s government. If you were to attack Kharbranth, you would attack innocents.”

“I’d never do that.”

“Because you have me. Admit it.”

Storm him, it was true—and it made Dalinar angry enough to draw a single boiling angerspren at his feet. He had no interest in retribution against Kharbranth. They, like the Vedens—like Dalinar himself—had all been pawns in Taravangian’s schemes.

“I know it is difficult to accept,” Taravangian said. “But my goal has never been power. It has always only been about saving whomever I could save.”

“I can’t debate that, as I don’t know your heart, Taravangian,” Dalinar said. “So instead I’ll tell you something I know for certain. It could have gone differently. You could have truly joined with us. Storms … I can imagine a world where you said the oaths. I imagine you as a better leader than I ever could have been. I feel like you were so close.”

“No, my friend,” Taravangian said. “A monarch cannot make such oaths and expect to be able to keep them. He must realize that a greater need might arise at any time.”

“If so, it’s impossible for a king to be a moral man.”

“Or perhaps you can be moral and still break oaths.”

“No,” Dalinar said. “No, oaths are part of what define morality, Taravangian. A good man must strive to accomplish the things he’s committed to do.”

“Spoken like a true son of Tanavast,” Taravangian said, clasping his hands. “And I believe you, Dalinar. I believe you think exactly what you say. You are a man of Honor, raised to it through a life of his religion—which you might be upending, but it retains its grip on your mind.

“I wish I could commend that. Perhaps there was another way out of this. Perhaps there was another solution. But it wouldn’t be found in your oaths, my friend. And it would not involve a coalition of noble leaders. It would involve the sort of business with which you were once so familiar.”

“No,” Dalinar said. “There is a just way to victory. The methods must match the ideal to be obtained.”

Taravangian nodded, as if this were the inevitable response. Dalinar sat back on his seat, and they sat in silence together for a time, watching the tiny ruby. He hated how this had gone, how the argument forced him into the most dogmatic version of his beliefs. He knew there was nuance in every position, yet …

Aligning his methods and his goals was at the very soul of what he’d learned. What he was trying to become. He had to believe there was a way to lead while still being moral.

He stared at that ruby, that glimmer of red light, reminiscent of an Everstorm’s lightning. Dalinar had come here expecting a fight, but was surprised to realize he felt more sorrow than he did anger. He felt Taravangian’s pain, his regret for what had occurred. What they had both lost.

Dalinar finally stood up. “You always said that to be a king was to accept pain.”

“To accept that you must do what others cannot,” Taravangian agreed. “To bear the agonies of the decisions you had to make, so that others may live pure lives. You should know that I have said my goodbyes and intentionally made myself worthless to Odium and my former compatriots. You will not be able to use my life to bargain with anyone.”

“Why tell me this?” Dalinar said. “You would make it worthless to keep you prisoner. Do you want to be executed?”

“I simply want to be clear with you,” Taravangian said. “There is no further reason for me to try to manipulate you, Dalinar. I have achieved what I wanted. You may kill me.”

“No, Taravangian,” Dalinar said. “You have lived your convictions, however misguided they may be. Now I’m going to live mine. And at the end, when I face Odium and win, you will be there. I’ll give you this gift.”

“The pain of knowing I was wrong?”

“You told me earlier that you wished to be proven wrong. If you’re sincere—and this was never about being right or about gaining power—then on that day we can embrace, knowing it is all over. Old friend.”

Taravangian looked at him, and there were tears in his eyes. “To that day, then,” he whispered. “And to that embrace.”

Dalinar nodded and withdrew, collecting Szeth at the door. He paused briefly to tell the guards to bring Taravangian some more light and a comfortable chair.