“I can try,” Venli said, Pleading sounding in her ears. Why Pleading? She hadn’t attuned that.

“Then maybe I could talk to you,” Eshonai said quietly, drooping from fatigue. “Without sounding like I’m trying to lecture. You’d know how I really feel. Mother would understand that I don’t try to run away. I just want to see…”

“You’ll see it someday,” Venli promised. “You’ll see the whole world. Every vibrant color. Every singing wind. Every land and people.”

Eshonai didn’t respond.

“I … I’ve been doing things you might not like,” Venli whispered. “I should tell you. You’ll explain that what I’m doing is wrong though, and you’re always right. That’s part of what I hate about you.”

But her sister had already drifted off. The stiff Shardplate kept her in a seated position, slumped against the wall, breathing softly. Venli climbed to her feet and left.

That night, she went into the storm to hunt stormspren for the first time.

Maybe if I remembered my life, I’d be capable of being confident like I once was. Maybe I’d stop vacillating when even the most simple of decisions is presented to me.

The weather turned energetic by the time Adolin’s trial arrived. The honorspren he passed chatted more, and seemed to have more of a spring to their steps as they flowed toward the forum on the southern plane of Lasting Integrity.

He couldn’t feel the weather, though Blended said it was like a faint drumming in the back of her mind, upbeat and peppy. Indeed, the inkspren seemed chattier.

He felt more nervous than at his first ranked duel—and far less prepared. Legal terms, strategies, even the details of his political training all seemed distant as he walked down the steps to the amphitheater floor. As Blended had feared, the place was packed with honorspren. Many wore uniforms or other formal attire, though some wore loose, flowing outfits that trailed behind them as they walked. These seemed more free-spirited. Perhaps their presence would help the crowd turn to his side.

Blended said that was important. The High Judge—being who he was—would likely listen to the mood of the crowd and judge accordingly. Adolin wished someone had explained to him earlier how fickle his judge would be. That might favor Adolin, fortunately: he could depend on some level of erratic behavior from Kelek, whereas the honorspren were basically all against him from the start.

They didn’t boo as he reached the floor of the forum; they had too much decorum. They hushed instead. He found Shallan seated next to Pattern over on the left side. She pumped her fist toward him, and he had the impression she was Radiant at the moment.

Kelek sat upon a thronelike seat with a bench before it, both built in among the forum’s tiers. The Herald seemed imposing, and Adolin was reminded that—despite the man’s odd behavior—Kelek was thousands of years old. Perhaps he would listen.

“All right, all right,” Kelek said. “Human, get over there on the podium and stand there until this show finishes and we can execute you.”

“Holy One,” an honorspren said from his side. “We do not execute people.”

“What else are you going to do?” Kelek said. “You don’t have prisons, and I doubt he’ll care if you exile him. Hell, half the people in this place would regard escaping your presence to be a reward.”

“We are building a proper holding cell,” the honorspren said, looking toward Adolin. “So he can be kept healthy and on display for years to come.”

Wonderful, Adolin thought, stepping into the place indicated. The consequences of failure, however, had always been far bigger than his own life. The war needed Radiants, and Radiants needed spren. If Adolin failed, it meant leaving thousands of troops to die without proper support.

He needed to stand here, tall and confident, and win this challenge. Somehow.

He turned to face the crowd. According to Blended, today would be the worst of the days. Three witnesses against him. Tomorrow he’d get to have his say.

“Very well,” Kelek said. “I suppose you need to give trial terms, Sekeir?”

The bearded honorspren stood up. “Indeed, Honored One.”

“Make it fast,” Kelek said.

Adolin took a moment of enjoyment from the affronted way Sekeir received that injunction. The honorspren had likely planned a lengthy speech.

“As you wish, Honored One,” Sekeir said. “Today, we enter a trial as demanded by this human, Adolin Kholin, to determine if he can bear the sins of the Recreance—where men killed their spren. Since this event happened, which no one disputes, then we must simply prove that we are wise to stay away from all humans as a result.”

“Right, then,” Kelek said. “Human, this works for you?”

“Not exactly, Honored One,” Adolin said, using the opening statement Blended had helped him prepare. “I did not agree to be tried for my ancestors. I agreed to be tried for myself. I told the honorspren I personally bear no blame for what humans did in the past. Because of that, I contend that the honorspren are acting dishonorably by ignoring my people’s pleas for help.”

Kelek rubbed his forehead. “So we’re arguing over even the definitions? This doesn’t bode well.”

“There is no argument,” Sekeir said. “Honored One, he says he wishes to bear no sins of his ancestors, and we should instead prove why he specifically can’t be trusted. But the Recreance is a large portion of why we cannot trust his kind! We set the terms when he entered: He would have to stand trial for all humankind. He can dissemble if he wishes, but he did enter our fortress, and therefore agreed to our terms.”

Kelek grunted. “That makes sense. Human, you’re going to have to stand trial as he wishes. That said, I’ll keep your arguments in mind when I finally judge.”

“I suppose I must agree,” Adolin said. Blended had warned him not to push too hard here.

“So … trial by witness, right?” Kelek said. “I’m to listen to the arguments presented, then decide. Either the honorspren are being selfish, denying honor, and I should command them to go to the battlefield. Or I decide they’ve been wise, that humans are not worthy of trust—and we throw this man in a prison as an example?”

“Yes, Honored One,” Sekeir said.

“Great,” Kelek said. “I assume you had no lack of volunteers, Sekeir. Who is first?”

“Amuna,” said the honorspren. “Come, and bear your witness.”

The audience whispered quietly as a female spren rose from her spot on the front row. She wore a warrior’s pleated skirt and a stiff shirt. She was slender and willowy, and when she stepped she was as graceful as a leaf in the wind. Adolin recognized her; this was the spren to whom he’d been forced to surrender Maya on their first day in Lasting Integrity. He’d occasionally seen Amuna again during his daily visits to Maya.

The two honorspren sitting beside her bore ragged clothing and scratched-out eyes like Maya’s. On a glowing honorspren’s face, the scratches made a stark contrast.

“You all know me,” said the spren in the pleated skirt, “so I will speak for the benefit of Highprince Adolin. I am Amuna, and my duty is to care for the deadeyes in Lasting Integrity. We take their care very seriously.”