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The door slammed open so hard, Kaladin jumped in his seat. His hand flew out to a weapon that wasn’t there before he registered the thunderous visitor. Shallan stormed inside his study, eyes red and furious like he’d never seen before.
“What’s wron—“
“Were you going to tell me?” Shallan snapped, voice high and barely controlled.
“What?” Kaladin asked.
“Were you going to tell me?” she repeated, fists clenched at her sides.
“I- about what? Shallan, what is this about?” Kaladin said, confused and worried.
“You killed my fucking brother, Kal.”
Kaladin flinched at both the words and the vitriol in her voice. His eyes widened as he stood up, facing her in shock.
“You killed my brother, and that’s not even the worst part. I thought you didn’t know—I was going to never tell you! Little did I know—“ Shallan’s words dripped with humourless mocking “—not only did you know, you never— you were never—“
“Shallan, I’m sorry—“
“Sorry doesn’t bring him back!”
Kaladin took a step back from the force of her voice, bumping into his desk. His pen rolled off and fell. Shallan stomped closer to him and Kaladin forced himself to not cringe away, because her anger was exactly what he deserved.
“I didn’t know, when I ki—“ Kaladin’s breath hitched as his heart picked speed in panic. “When I was on the field. He was going to— he already killed my—“
“Of course you didn’t know! You hadn’t even met me back then. But were you going to tell me?” Shallan said, voice dropping dangerously low.
”I was. . .” He couldn’t finish. Truth was that he’d known he had to. But it wasn’t something he’d wanted to do any time soon. He was going to, yes. But when?
”You weren’t! You were never going to!” Shallan screamed, tears streaming out of her eyes as she banged her fists on his chest out of frustration.
Kaladin arms came close to his chest defensively as he stared at her and felt— shame curdling his stomach. He knew the answer. Shallan knew that he knew. It was something he knew he needed to do, but it was— this was exactly what he was afraid would happen and—
“I didn’t know that you. . .” He trailed off, unable to make a pitiful excuse. He deserved this, the full force of her anger.
“What?” Shallan snapped furiously. When Kaladin didn’t respond, she went on: “You didn’t know that I knew? I told you when my brother died! Then you announced to the entire world that Amaram stole his blade from you and you thought I didn’t figure out the rest? I just thought you didn’t know he was my brother!”
Kaladin opened his mouth but nothing came out. He bit back a gasp of shock. He hadn’t even thought about that. At the time just— so much had happened that he didn’t even realise. He thought he’d have to confess the news to Shallan. He wanted to drown in the massive pool of angerspren at her feet.
“I didn’t— storms, Shallan, I didn’t think—“
“Stop talking!”
The hit connected before he even registered it. And that was odd, because Kaladin’s instincts were on high alert but he just hadn’t expected Shallan to hurt him physically until his head snapped to the side and he was staring with wide eyes at the far wall instead of her enraged face.
And for a moment, the sting on his cheek connected with something—someone else in his mind. Cruel eyes, whip in hand, punishment for talking back.
“Yes, brightne—“
Kaladin stopped himself too late. Pulling himself physically back into the present. But Shallan had frozen at his words, face draining of colour. She took a step back unsteadily, hand flying to her mouth.
“I’m— Kal, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.” Her voice had gone suddenly quiet and horrified, a sharp contrast to the edge of hate that sliced Kaladin earlier worse than the slap. “I didn’t even think— I’ve never hit someone like this before. . . like— like my fath—“
Shallan went very, very still, eyes going immediately unfocused.
“Shal?” Kaladin whispered, nerves still fraught and disoriented from the highstorm of emotions.
Shallan’s breath hitched, then picked up again more rapidly. Her eyes fell back on him, at the side of his face her palm had connected with. She’d been wearing the ring Adolin had given her, and while Kaladin knew it wasn’t deliberate the way some of his past owners were, the metal flared a long line of pain he thought must have been visible.
Shallan’s breaths became more audible. She reached out to him shakily. Kaladin flinched again without meaning to, stumbling back on his desk. Shallan retracted her hand like it had been burned and a wounded, animalistic noise escaped her throat as she herself stumbled backwards. She was shaking like a leaf, eyes darting all over Kaladin.
Hyperventilation, Kaladin noted distantly. She’s having a panic attack.
He stood up straight again on trembling legs, trying to get a hold of both himself and her. “Shallan, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say—“ his voice came out weak and wavering.
He took a step forward but Shallan took an identical one back, shaking her head frantically as she wrapped her arms around herself, still gasping for breath.
Kaladin’s throat tightened, heart galloping as the sounds of her choked off breaths warped in his ears and the sting on his cheek still screamed terror even though he knew this was Shallan.
And she needed the surgeon, not the slave right now. She needed someone to calm her down and Kaladin couldn’t look in her eyes and—
Adolin came running in so fast, he nearly collided with the open door frame, one hand catching himself against it. Kaladin’s eyes went from Shallan to him, and he felt an array of several emotions at once, sickeningly quick. Relief, at the right person Kaladin could trust to handle the situation. Guilt and shame, at knowing this was his fault. Panic, because Shallan was crying because of him and Adolin would be just as furious at Kaladin for that.
Kaladin’s vision swam, ears ringing as he huffed frantically to get his mind under control. He couldn’t— all his fault—
Adolin took in the sight of the two of them and his heart lurched to his throat. He walked in purposefully, trying to look calm and non-threatening. He approached Shallan first and nearly gasped at the number of agonyspren gathered near both her and Kaladin. While Shallan was shaking and crying, Kaladin had simply frozen with his hands braced on his desk, pale-faced and wide-eyed like an animal of prey.
Adolin didn’t touch Shallan immediately but he stepped in between her and Kal, and tried to steer her to sitting. She looked like she needed much more immediate attention, while Kal’s eyes just tracked them silently. It took ten minutes of talking and reassuring her gently with whispered words before her breaths became slower, closer to something resembling normal.
Ten minutes in between which Adolin kept glancing back at Kal’s stricken face to make sure he was alright. He wasn’t, but he was there and he didn’t look like he was getting worse. And only when Shallan went quiet and Kal slid down shakily and sat right there on the floor against the table did Adolin get up from where he was kneeling against Shal’s knees.
He touched Shallan’s face. “Shh, I’m here. Pattern called for me when he saw you getting upset. I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.” He heard Pattern’s comforting hum from her dress in reply, even he sounded worried.
Shallan shook her head to dismiss his apology. He squeezed her hand. “It’s alright, you’re alright. You’re with me,” he whispered for the umpteenth time to her. “Will you be okay?”
Shallan was still trembling, but she nodded and wiped her wet face. She gave a guilty glance to Kaladin, who wasn’t meeting her eyes, staring at the floor. Adolin turned his attention to Kal.
“Hey, Kal.”
Kaladin didn’t look up. His shoulders tensed at just being addressed. Adolin kneeled next to him. He was also trembling, but much more subtly.
“Kal, please, look at me,” Adolin whispered, much more helplessly. Because Kaladin’s wasn’t panicking like Shallan, he was choosing not to respond.
“Talk to me, bridgeboy. Please.”
Kaladin did look up eventually, and Adolin held back a grimace at the redness of his cheek, darker at a spot in the centre. He reached out towards it slowly with a worried frown, but Kaladin leaned back, not letting him touch his face as he winced like he was expecting another hit.
Adolin’s heart clenched painfully but he dropped his hand and brought them up in a surrender instead, hoping the sight of his empty hands in plain sight would bring Kaladin at ease. Kaladin looked like he was guilty for cringing away when he saw them.
“I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to hit you,” Shallan’s voice came from behind, sounding choked and regretful.
Kaladin just looked at her, closed his eyes and nodded numbly. “Are you okay?” he asked, word slow and voice rough like sandpaper.
Shallan nodded.
“Are you okay?” Adolin asked, turning back to him.
Kaladin frowned in confusion like he didn’t know why the question was directed at him. “I’m sorry,” he muttered instead of answering, tilting his head down again.
Adolin noted he was still incredibly tense, breaths carefully controlled.
“Apology accepted,” Shallan replied roughly.
Kaladin looked back up at her in shock. Shallan shrugged awkwardly.
“Feels weird to move on so quickly after the tantrum I threw, but. . . I wouldn’t know how to speak about this either if I were you,” she said quietly, fidgeting with a thread on Kaladin’s bedsheet idly. “You can’t just casually say, ‘hey Shallan, I killed your brother that you were hoping would come back to save you, by the way. But I didn’t know he was your brother and also he killed my men and—‘“ her breath hitched again, interrupting her poor imitation of Kaladin’s voice, and she closed her eyes, more tears falling but this time silent as she inhaled deeply.
Kaladin stared at a spot between them, frowning. “If it’s any consolation,” he said slowly, “I’ve had cause for regretting not letting him kill Amaram for years now.”
Shallan’s expression tightened with guilt. “Yes, I know.”
She stood up and kneeled closer next to Adolin, but her presence made Kaladin press more firmly against the table, and he didn’t let her touch him either. Shallan looked just as guilty as Kaladin did at his reaction.
“I think you two need some time away from each other,” Adolin noted gently.
Kaladin covered a flinch that both of them noticed anyway, but nodded numbly. Shallan sat back on her knees as well. “Don’t get me wrong. You do need to talk about this. But maybe. . . later.” He shared a look between both of them, only satisfied when they both nodded and looked into his eyes.
Adolin hesitated. Despite what he said, he didn’t think either Kaladin or Shallan were in any state to be left alone. And he couldn’t give his attention to them individually.
“Kal, are you. . . okay with me and Shallan being in the same room as you?”
Kaladin winced at having to be asked. He opened his mouth with a nod to affirm, but his breath caught and eyes squeezed shut. He brought his knees up and pressed his face between them, breathing deeply as his shoulders trembled. Adolin shared a helpless look with Shallan and tried to touch Kal’s arm.
But Syl materialised in front of them, form bigger than usual and wrapped her arms around Kal’s shoulders protectively, shaking her head at them.
Storms, that answered his question. Shallan stood up.
“Don’t leave,” Kaladin croaked, voice muffled against his legs.
They both stopped. Kaladin took a deep breath, as if it hurt to speak the next part and lifted his head.
“Don’t. . . come closer.”
“Okay, okay.” Adolin nodded, immediately backing up.
He stood up and took Shallan’s hand, sitting her on the bed and pouring a glass of water from a jug on Kal’s bedside. He handed it to her with a smile, wiping her tears gently. Physical touch always seemed to soothe Shallan, but it appeared to have the opposite effect on Kaladin.
He took a handful of spheres from his pouch and offered them to Kaladin. “Hey, here, take some in.” Adolin tapped his own cheek to indicate the red spot on Kal’s.
Kaladin looked away. “Don’t need it,” he said gruffly.
Adolin frowned, retreating his hand. “Do you need me to put something on it? I have ointment.”
He ignored the tightening of Shallan’s hands on her knees. Her guilt was something he’d deal with later.
Kaladin shrugged. “It’ll go away.”
“At least get up on a chair or join us on the bed,” Shallan said, patting the seat beside her.
“I’m fine,” Kaladin said immediately. “I- you two can keep talking.”
It sounded like an offer, but Adolin thought it was more of a request. Though Kaladin seemed embarrassed at asking.
Adolin just sat down beside Shallan and started asking her for reassurances quietly that she really was okay. Eventually, the conversation drifted and Adolin noted Kaladin’s shoulders relaxing gradually as they kept speaking, and even Shallan started slipping in small smiles occasionally. Adolin could see Kal’s lips moving in conversation with Syl sometimes, but he mostly listened to Adolin speak about everything and nothing in particular. The latest coat trims in fashion, the new addition of free-spirited horse named Lara in the stables, the time Renarin and he stole the expensive wine from the Kholinar kitchens to gift to Yokska.
At one point, Kaladin rubbed a hand over his face, sighed and got up wearily. They didn’t comment as he silently walked up to them, shifting on his feet awkwardly as he looked at Shallan. Adolin and Shallan scooted over to make room for Kal, who sighed again but sat down in between them. Adolin bumped his shoulder against his, and after a moment’s hesitation, Kaladin bumped his against Shallan.
“I am sorry he killed your squad,” Shallan said, voice quiet. “I don’t even know what he was doing on that battlefield. I’m trying to find out.”
Kaladin nodded, staring at the floor. “I should have told you.”
Adolin squeezed his knee supportively and stood up, not leaving the room but giving them some semblance of privacy as he nosed around Kal’s drawers. Kaladin let him, but raised a brow.
“Yeah, you should have. I thought I couldn’t tell you, because it’d make you feel needlessly guilty. When I found out you already knew. . .” Shallan trailed off.
Kaladin’s drawers were mostly empty, with some papers and reeds. The top one had two unassuming rocks for some reason. Adolin found the pouch of medical supplies that he was looking for, and sure enough, the small tub of ointment.
He sat back down besides Kal when the other man stayed quiet for too long, and offered him the ointment because he thought Kaladin still wouldn’t want Adolin to touch his face.
But Shallan plucked the jar from Adolin’s fingers, and Kaladin let her as she rubbed a small amount on her fingers and gently—achingly gently—wiped a generous amount on Kal’s cheek.
That sight was what finally calmed Adolin’s nerves. He hadn’t realised how tense he had been himself—though he’d projected calm and gentleness. Kal turned his face towards Shallan to let her reach him more easily, but his hand sought out Adolin as if he needed to make sure it was him sitting beside him.
Adolin took it in his own, and squeezed.
Kaladin closed his eyes and squeezed back.