Dalinar thought on that for a moment. Could the lad have a point? “Have I told you the story of the king carrying the boulder?”

“Yes,” Adolin said.

“I have?”

“Twice. And you made me listen to the passage being read another time.”

“Oh. Well, in that same section, there’s a passage about the nature of forcing people to follow you as opposed to letting them follow you. We do too much forcing in Alethkar. Dueling someone because they claim I’m a coward doesn’t change their beliefs. It might stop them from making the claims, but it doesn’t change hearts. I know I’m right about this. You’ll just have to trust me on this as well.”

Adolin sighed, standing. “Well, an official refutation is better than nothing, I guess. At least you haven’t given up on defending our honor entirely.”

“I never will,” Dalinar said. “I just need to be careful. I cannot afford to divide us any further.” He turned back to his meal, stabbing his last piece of chicken with his knife and shoving it in his mouth.

“I’ll get back to the other island, then,” Adolin said. “I…Wait, is that Aunt Navani?”

Dalinar looked up, surprised to see Navani walking toward them. Dalinar glanced at his plate. His food was gone; he’d eaten the last bit without realizing it.

He sighed, steeling himself, and rose to greet her. “Mathana,” Dalinar said, bowing and using the formal term for an older sister. Navani was only three months his senior, but it was still applicable.

“Dalinar,” she said, a faint smile on her lips. “And dear Adolin.”

Adolin smiled broadly; he rounded the table and hugged his aunt. She rested her clothed safehand on his shoulder, a gesture reserved only for family.

“When did you return?” Adolin asked, releasing her.

“Just this afternoon.”

“And why did you return?” Dalinar asked stiffly. “I was under the impression that you were going to aid the queen in protecting the king’s interests in Alethkar.”

“Oh, Dalinar,” Navani said, voice fond. “So stiff, as always. Adolin, dear, how goes courtship?”

Dalinar snorted. “He continues to change partners like he’s in a dance that involves particularly quick music.”

“Father!” Adolin objected.

“Well, good for you, Adolin,” Navani said. “You’re too young to get tied down. The purpose of youth is to experience variety while it is still interesting.” She glanced at Dalinar. “It isn’t until we get older that we should be forced to be boring.”

“Thank you, Aunt,” Adolin said with a grin. “Excuse me. I need to go tell Renarin that you’ve returned.” He hurried away, leaving Dalinar standing awkwardly across the table from Navani.

“Am I that much of a threat, Dalinar?” Navani asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Dalinar glanced down, realizing that he was still gripping his dining knife—a wide, serrated blade that could double as a weapon in a pinch. He let it clatter to the table, then winced at the noise. All of the confidence he’d felt speaking with Adolin seemed gone in a heartbeat.

Compose yourself! he thought. She’s just family. Every time he spoke with Navani, he felt as if he were facing a predator of the most dangerous breed.

“Mathana,” Dalinar said, realizing they were still standing on opposite sides of the narrow table. “Perhaps we should move to…”

He trailed off as Navani waved to an attending girl who was barely old enough to wear a woman’s sleeve. The child rushed forward, bearing a low stool. Navani pointed to the spot beside her, a spot only a few feet from the table. The child hesitated, but Navani pointed more insistently and the child set the stool down.

Navani sat gracefully, not sitting at the king’s table—which was a masculine dining place—but certainly sitting near enough to be challenging protocol. The serving girl withdrew. At the end of the table, Elhokar noticed his mother’s actions, but said nothing. One did not reprove Navani Kholin, not even if one were king.

“Oh, sit down, Dalinar,” she said, voice growing testy. “We have matters of some moment to discuss.”

Dalinar sighed, but sat. The seats around them were still empty, and both the music and the hum of conversation on the island were loud enough to keep people from overhearing them. Some women had taken to playing flutes, musicspren spinning around them in the air.

“You ask why I returned,” Navani said, voice soft. “Well, I have three reasons. First, I wanted to bring word that the Vedens have perfected their ‘half-shards’ as they call them. They’re claiming the shields can stop blows from a Shardblade.”

Dalinar folded his arms before him on the table. He’d heard rumors of this, though he’d discounted them. Men were always claiming to be close to creating new Shards, yet the promises were never fulfilled. “Have you seen one?”

“No. But I have confirmation from someone I trust. She says they can only take the shape of a shield and don’t lend any of Plate’s other enhancements. But they can block a Shardblade.”

It was a step—a very small step—toward Shardplate. That was disturbing. He wouldn’t believe it himself until he’d seen what these “half-shards” could do. “You could have sent this news via spanreed, Navani.”

“Well, I realized soon after reaching Kholinar that leaving here had been a political mistake. More and more, these warcamps are the true center of our kingdom.”

“Yes,” Dalinar said quietly. “Our absence from our homeland is dangerous.” Hadn’t that been the very argument that had convinced Navani to go home in the first place?

The stately woman waved a dismissive hand. “I have determined that the queen is sufficiently endowed with the requisite skills needed to hold Alethkar. There are schemes and plots—there will always be schemes and plots—but the truly important players inevitably make their way here.”

“Your son continues to see assassins around every corner,” Dalinar said softly.

“And shouldn’t he? After what happened to his father…”

“True, but I fear he carries it to extremes. He mistrusts even his allies.”

Navani folded her hands in her lap, freehand lying atop safehand. “He’s not very good at this, is he?”

Dalinar blinked in shock. “What? Elhokar is a good man! He has more integrity than any other lighteyes in this army.”

“But his rule is weak,” Navani said. “You must admit that.”

“He is king,” Dalinar said firmly, “and my nephew. He has both my sword and my heart, Navani, and I will not hear ill spoken of him, even by his own mother.”

She eyed him. Was she testing his loyalty? Much like her daughter, Navani was a political creature. Intrigue made her blossom like a rockbud in calm wet air. However, unlike Jasnah, Navani was hard to trust. At least with Jasnah one knew where one stood—once again, Dalinar found himself wishing she’d put aside her projects and return to the Shattered Plains.

“I’m not speaking ill of my son, Dalinar,” Navani said. “We both know I am as loyal to him as you are. But I like to know what I’m working with, and that requires a definition. He is seen as weak, and I intend to see him protected. Despite himself, if necessary.”