Words of Radiance

ONE AND A HALF YEARS AGO

Shallan became the perfect daughter.

She kept quiet, particularly in Father’s presence. She spent most days in her room, sitting by the window, reading the same books over and over or sketching the same objects again and again. He had proven several times by this point that he would not touch her if she angered him.

Instead, he would beat others in her name.

The only times she allowed herself to drop the mask was when she was with her brothers, times when her father couldn’t hear. Her three brothers often cajoled her—with an edge of desperation—to tell them stories from her books. For their hearing only, she made jokes, poked fun at Father’s visitors, and invented extravagant tales by the hearth.

Such an insignificant way to fight back. She felt a coward for not doing more. But surely… surely things would get better now. Indeed, as Shallan was involved more by the ardents in accounts, she noted a shrewdness to the way her father stopped being bullied by other lighteyes and started playing them against each other. He impressed her, but frightened her, in how he seized for power. Father’s fortunes changed further when a new marble deposit was discovered on his lands—providing resources to keep up with his promises, bribes, and deals.

Surely that would make him start laughing again. Surely that would drive the darkness from his eyes.

It did not.

* * *

“She is too low for you to marry,” Father said, setting down his mug. “I won’t have it, Balat. You will break off contact with that woman.”

“She belongs to a good family!” Balat said, standing, palms on the table. It was lunch, and so Shallan was expected to be here, rather than remaining shut up in her room. She sat to the side, at her private table. Balat stood facing Father across the high table.

“Father, they’re your vassals!” Balat snapped. “You yourself have invited them to dine with us.”

“My axehounds dine at my feet,” Father said. “I do not allow my sons to court them. House Tavinar is not nearly ambitious enough for us. Now, Sudi Valam, that might be worth considering.”

Balat frowned. “The highprince’s daughter? You can’t be serious. She’s in her fifties!”

“She is single.”

“Because her husband died in a duel! Anyway, the highprince would never approve it.”

“His perception of us will change,” Father said. “We are a wealthy family now, with much influence.”

“Yet still headed by a murderer,” Balat snapped.

Too far! Shallan thought. On Father’s other side, Luesh laced his fingers in front of him. The new house steward had a face like a well-worn glove, leathery and wrinkled in the places most used—notably the frown lines.

Father stood up slowly. This new anger of his, the cold anger, terrified Shallan. “Your new axehound pups,” he said to Balat. “Terrible that they caught a sickness during the latest highstorm. Tragic. It is unfortunate they need to be put down.” He gestured, and one of his new guards—a man Shallan did not know well—stepped outside, pulling his sword from its sheath.

Shallan grew very cold. Even Luesh grew concerned, placing a hand on Father’s arm.

“You bastard,” Balat said, growing pale. “I’ll—”

“You’ll what, Balat?” Father asked, shaking off Luesh’s touch, leaning toward Balat. “Come on. Say it. Will you challenge me? Don’t think I wouldn’t kill you if you did. Wikim may be a pathetic wreck, but he will serve just as well as you for what this house needs.”

“Helaran is back,” Balat said.

Father froze, hands on the table, unmoving.

“I saw him two days ago,” Balat said. “He sent for me, and I rode out to meet him in the city. Helaran—”

“That name is not to be spoken in this house!” Father said. “I mean it, Nan

Balat! Never.”

Balat met his father’s gaze, and Shallan counted ten beats of her thumping heart before Balat broke the stare and looked away.

Father sat down, looking exhausted as Balat stalked out of the room. The hall fell completely silent, Shallan too frightened to speak. Father eventually stood up, shoving his chair back and leaving. Luesh trailed soon after.

That left Shallan alone with the servants. Timidly she stood up, then went after Balat.

He was in the kennel. The guard had worked swiftly. Balat’s new pod of pups lay dead in a pool of violet blood on the stone floor.

She’d encouraged Balat to breed these. He’d been making progress with his demons, over the years. He rarely hurt anything larger than a cremling. Now he sat on a box, looking down at the small corpses, horrified. Painspren cluttered the ground near him.

The metal gate into the kennel rattled as Shallan pushed it open. She raised her safehand to her mouth as she drew closer to the pitiful remains.

“Father’s guards,” Balat said. “It’s like they were waiting for a chance to do something like this. I don’t like the new group he has. That Levrin, with the angry eyes, and Rin… that one frightens me. What ever happened to Ten and Beal? Soldiers that you could joke with. Almost friends…”