And then Elthebar stood resplendant, uttering the words, 'Life before death, strength before weakness, journey before pancakes.”

She hummed to Destruction and opened her eyes. The room was dim, only the tiled floor heating the room, and a small window—admittedly small—opening out into the cold darkness.

Her father stood by the window, hands on hips, looking up at the mountains.

“It’s your father,” she said.

He froze, then turned toward her. “What?”

“You’re not supposed to curse at me, Adolin.”

“Let me—”

He stood up, then walked to the door, where he threw aside the key and pulled it out of his pocket. When he turned, he actually thought about her. Shallan had made a point of speaking to him without peer, and he didn’t dismiss it like a child might dismiss his stupid father.

“Let’s go,” she said, then pulled on a jacket and a hat, then finally stepped out of the light into the darkness.

He burned the old man’s candle with a match. And … when he looked up, the curtains finally dropped, trapping him.

“What were you doing out here?” he demanded, pushing the woman closer and closer, until her hair seemed to stand on end and her eyes had a hollow gaze.

“We went to check on her,” Shallan said, then smiled. “She’s room is furnished, and you can watch the children.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll have my vengeance.”

“I’m not going to have one of my vengeance.”

“You’re not going to have one,” Shallan said. “I know you’re not going to have one, but you’re going to have a feeling for what the consequences are going to be.”

“I’m not sure I’m good at saving face,” Adolin muttered. “I’m not good at saving people. I’m used to the thievery and ravaging of peoples’s belongings. I have some useless darkeyes and torches here, which is handy. But I’m used to being useful, you know.”

“You are what you’re going to have to work for, Adolin.”

“Then maybe you’d do the men a favor and break the law—for them anyway.”

“Such that it is a favor they pay you,” Adolin said. “A contract to work together, to train your swords, and to await the Fused. You are hereby giver and re-iver of tithes due to the Skybreakers.”

Shallan turned about, warming up her cloak, which had been dark for the fire. She’d agreed to have it reeds for the first hour, but that would be it for the first hour. She’d been dancing around the fire, which was pitched at a place with no light in it.

The air was still damp with a few bets of fog. “You want to get up there with them,” Shallan said. “Take to the air and show them what you can do. I don’t feel like we’re breaking any new ground here.”

“We’ll see,” Adolin said, checking his Shield. “I’m not holding it ransomingly, is my son?”

“Consider that,” Shallan said, then danced out of the tent, out the storming gates. She briefly looked back at Adolin, and he could see that she was glowing. She was a fraction of the way to her father’s power.

She burst up toward the air, and—without warning—she yanked her hand back. The light vanished from her hand, and she stumbled to a stop. Her body stopped burning, and her hand started to go dark.

Adolin looked down at his Shield. His was glowing. His men had charged out the doors of the manor, and Adolin’s men had brought up the rear. His men had started down the steps to follow.

“Sylphrena,” he called, “follow me.”

She ran right toward Adolin.