Chapter Text
…fall to't, yarely,
or we run ourselves aground: bestir, bestir.
— The Tempest, Act I Scene 1
“How did you do it?”
Kaladin, perched on ledge of Shallan’s window, turned at the sound of Adolin’s voice. It was improper for Shallan to have two young men in her rooms, but she had maps and papers spread out several sheets thick over the desk pushed against the far wall, and had refused to leave them. She didn’t look up when Adolin spoke, though the question had been directed to her, and Adolin felt himself smile. He’d decided not to examine too closely why he liked when she ignored him, and simply enjoy it.
“Nobody told you?” asked Kaladin. “Rock, Lopen, Teft?”
“Closed up tighter than a rockbud soon as I asked. All they’d say was that she saved you using some of your ‘Radiant Glow.’” Adolin paused. “I think that one was a pun.”
Fondness flickered over Kaladin’s face, transforming his serious features and making him almost, for once, look his age instead of a man ten years older. “It’s a good idea to have a shy tongue around lighteyes. They’re smarter than you, princeling.”
“Your tongue’s not shy around me,” Adolin said, winking. Kaladin gave an unimpressed grunt, but shifted awkwardly on the stone, and Adolin floundered. It was still new, this…arrangement between the three of them, and to Adolin’s chagrin he was as clumsy with it as a boy of fifteen, tripping over his shoes at his first official court dance.
It was just, he had spent so long being berated and despaired of for his wandering eyes that the fact that he was allowed to look at more than one person now was turning all the rules he’d learned for romantic companionship on their heads. Or. Not all the rules. He still laughed at Shallan’s jokes (of course he did, they were funny, even when he couldn’t understand them) and met Kaladin’s gaze more often than he strictly needed to (Kaladin’s eyes were so compelling, made Adolin feel lightning-struck just looking at them). He teased and flattered and took their arms and wondered how this was possible, that he could get to have them both. Surely it was a dream. This sort of thing never worked out this well for him, and twice?
Whatever he’d done to make the Almighty think he deserved them, he was grateful a thousand times.
He could tell the others felt it, too, though it was easier to tell with Kaladin. When things were…physical, he had the confidence of a solider who had done as most soldiers did, meaningless releases of tension within the ranks. When Shallan spoke to him softly, however, or Adolin tucked one of Kaladin’s unruly locks behind his ear… Adolin knew a frightened man when he saw him. He and Shallan had taken Kaladin aside in the first week and asked if they should stop, and Kaladin had fumbled his way through a request that they didn’t, that he did like the gentleness. He simply wasn’t sure he deserved it.
“I can not do that. The…jokes,” Adolin said. “If it bothers you.”
“It doesn’t. Bother me, I mean.” Kaladin shifted again. “I…I’m just not…I told you, I’m not used to this sort of thing.” He got that look he did every time Shallan kissed his cheek, like he had been handed something precious and spun-sugar fragile, and he was afraid it would break in his hands. It made Adolin want to pull Kaladin into his arms and tell him all the reasons he was wonderful. It made Adolin want to kiss him.
Adolin got up—he’d been sprawled on Shallan’s rug, tossing a sphere into the air and catching it—and walked to the windowsill and Kaladin, gripping briefly at one of his hanging knees. On flat feet Kaladin was only a few inches taller than Adolin, but the ledge put Kaladin head and shoulders above him, and Adolin had to crane his neck to meet his eyes. “It’s that charming glare of yours. Too handsome by half.”
“Idiot,” said Kaladin. He pinched Adolin’s chin and gave him a kiss, soft and fleeting, and tried to pretend he wasn’t blushing afterwards. Adolin ducked his head to hide how sappy his grin had become.
“Human thing, I told you,” Kaladin said to his own left shoulder, and waved his hand at the air there. He never explained what Syl said when she didn’t feel like showing herself, and though Adolin was curious, he didn’t mind. Even a spren should be entitled to her privacy.
Adolin contented himself with a nod and a smile in the direction of Kaladin’s shoulder and let part of his weight rest against him. Even now, Kaladin held tension in his body, like a rope pulled to straining, but it was less than it usually was, and Adolin was glad to see Kaladin relax even a little. He felt Kaladin’s arm curl around his waist, tentative, and Adolin leaned into the touch to encourage it.
“Drat!” Shallan thumped both fists on the map in front of her and shoved back her chair with an earsplitting screech that made both Kaladin and Adolin wince. “Drat, drat, drat!” She hopped up and began pacing back and forth behind her desk, muttering and pulling faces.
Adolin held up a hand. “Shallan? Is something wrong?”
“Oh!” Shallan jumped, as if she’d forgotten Adolin and Kaladin were there, and turned to them with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry I haven’t been much fun. You don’t have to stay. I have to rewrite all of my everything because somebody didn’t scale down her calculations!” She jabbed a finger at the paper-laden desk, curls flying.
“Take a break,” Adolin suggested, twisting his outstretched palm upward so it became an offer. “I know that helps me when I’m having trouble with my stances. Just a little while,” he coaxed, as Shallan’s eyes strayed back to her work. “For me?”
“You’re bad for my discipline,” Shallan said, but she took Adolin’s hand and tucked herself against his other side. She sighed. “You may have a point. My head’s so full I can’t even think. What were you two talking about?”
“Pretty-boy asked me how you saved my life,” Kaladin said, which was lucky, because Adolin hadn’t remembered. It sounded a lot less like idle curiosity coming from him, though, and Adolin wished he’d picked a more innocuous topic, not one that made his stomach clench as he looked between them, Shallan’s smile freezing on her face.
But no, that had been surprise, Adolin realized when Shallan spoke. “I thought you knew already,” she said. “I didn’t know I could, actually, we obviously don’t know a lot about the Radiants, and Pattern never said. Kaladin was hurt,” she said, and made a little, aborted motion, like she wanted to reach across Adolin to touch Kaladin, feel for herself that he was there and whole. Adolin swiped a reassuring thumb across her knuckles.
“Wasn’t bad,” Kaladin said, and frowned when Adolin and Shallan stared at him. “What?”
“You were missing for several hours,” Adolin pointed out.
“You were unconscious and out of Stormlight,” Shallan hissed, and Adolin hadn’t heard that part. He fought down the urge to grab Kaladin’s vest and demand he take better care of himself.
It wasn’t as if Kaladin would listen.
“It turned out fine,” Kaladin said, and not a little petulantly, “I woke up and Shallan was there, and Sigzil started shouting about Radiants, so she must’ve used some sort of surgebinding. Would be storming useful to know what, especially if it can be taught.”
“That’s not what happened,” said Shallan. She bit her lip. “I’m not exactly sure what I did, I was hoping you would be able to figure it out.”
Kaladin crossed his arms. Adolin missed the warmth around his waist. “I was unconscious. As you have so kindly pointed out.”
“But you’re a surgeon.”
“No I’m not,” said Kaladin automatically, and then—impossibly, how did Shallan do that—softened. “Can you describe it?”
Shallan tapped her chin. “I remember it was, you didn’t have any Stormlight left, and you needed it, and I had spheres. And I kept thinking, if only you would use that Stormlight, but you wouldn’t. And I wanted to force you to use the Stormlight, and I guess I…I mean,” she said, squaring her shoulders and adopting a tone that made Adolin think of his childhood teachers in figures, “I took up the Stormlight, and I breathed it into you. Perhaps it had to be processed first, through a person? That implies that the energy in spheres isn’t an immediately usable form, and there’s something about human—Radiant—physiology that changes it.”
“We should find out how, if that’s the case. If it’s a physiological change, than it could affect how the rest of the body works. Field surgery is inexact enough. I’ll ask Renarin, see if he has any ideas. Breathed it into me, you said? Like resuscitation?”
“Actually, yes, though without chest compressions. I should have thought of using those. Though you were breathing, if only barely. You just weren’t breathing in the Stormlight.”
“Usually it’s unconscious. Hm.”
“Unconscious is right.”
“I had it under control!”
“Syl didn’t think so.”
“Don’t use her to prove your points!”
“I’m not proving a point, I’m stating facts!”
“Hey,” Adolin said, before the argument could boil over into real anger, “What’s it like, breathing Stormlight?”
“It gives us the ability to—“
“No,” said Adolin. “What’s it like? What does it feel like?” It was something he had been wondering about since Shallan had breathed Stormlight before him in the portal, the day the Voidbringers had come out of legend. The question made both his partners stop, considering.
It was Kaladin who spoke first. “It feels…good. Right. Like you’re yourself but more. How you should be.” He scowled, but it was a thinking scowl, not a grumbly one. Adolin was getting better at distinguishing between those.
“Like Shardplate?” he asked. Kaladin didn’t look like he was going to resume the sort-of-cuddling anytime soon, so Adolin slowly shuffled closer to rest his head against Kaladin’s chest. Kaladin’s only response was to angle his torso so Adolin had a more comfortable pillow, so Adolin counted the maneuver a success.
“I’ve never—“ Kaladin grunted. “Storms. It’s hard to explain. Shallan?”
Adolin was expecting a list of effects and symptoms, footnotes included, so it took him by surprise when Shallan cocked her head and said, with no preamble, “Have you ever smoked truthberry?”
“No,” said Adolin. “I always figured my father would find out. Have you?” he asked, delighted. The day that Shallan stopped surprising him would be a sorry day indeed; he hoped it never came.
“No,” said Shallan, and blushed. “But I’ve heard fairly detailed accounts of its effects. Stormlight doesn’t feel the same, but there are similarities. It’s more that injuries are healed than pain is deadened, but I imagine the rush of relief doesn’t feel appreciably different. Senses feel sharpened, and with Stormlight, they actually are. There’s a swell of power, of potential, that makes one feel like flying. Kaladin even more than me, I’d imagine!”
Adolin nodded, but he could tell that Shallan saw in his eyes he didn’t understand. She didn’t tease him, though. She teased him a lot, but not for the failure of his mind to grasp something. Never for that.
“You’re being too cognitive. Adolin here’s a physical sort of creature: he only understands if he can hit it with his sword.” By Kaladin’s usual standards, it was practically a drawl. Kaladin had no such restrictions for the topics of mockery, but Adolin found he didn’t mind it, from him. Maybe it was because he knew Kaladin didn’t mean it. Maybe it was because it was good to see Kaladin enjoying something, even if that something was taunting him.
Shallan smiled. “Are you volunteering yourself for a demonstration?”
With his ear pressed against Kaladin’s chest Adolin could feel Kaladin’s pulse speed up, but when he spoke his voice was even. “Are you?”
Shallan lifted her chin extra-high, the way Adolin was learning she did when she was embarrassed but pretending she wasn’t, and stepped neatly around Adolin to grab the back of Kaladin’s neck and haul his face close to hers. His chin almost hit his knees. Adolin started to laugh, and then Shallan breathed in and a wisp of white smoke curled upward from her safepouch (which was— okay— Adolin was going to have to find her some kind of belt purse, because he didn’t know the rules for this but he was pretty sure that was indecent) to her nose and mouth. Her eyes glowed faintly.
Heralds, Adolin was never going to get used to the way either of them did that. He swallowed.
Shallan cupped Kaladin’s jaw and parted her lips to release the Stormlight in a long, slow sigh, pouring it directly into Kaladin’s open mouth. Kaladin sucked it in, staying hunched over even when Shallan drew back; his eyelids fluttered once, twice, and then closed.
He did look drugged, now that Adolin was close enough to tell. The tense lines around his mouth and eyes smoothed over, and there was almost a smile on his lips.
Shallan swooped back in for another go, and this time Kaladin caught her lifted hand and tangled their fingers together, drawing both hands to the center of his chest. They moved in perfect tandem this time, Shallan exhaling at the same time and pace that Kaladin inhaled, as if they were sharing one single breath. The Stormlight that didn’t make it into Kaladin’s mouth blew out around his face, cloudlike, pouring over the angle of his jaw to make a tiny Stormlight water-fall down to his collar. Shallan kissed Kaladin— barely, just a touch of lips against lips— at the end of it, and ducked down to suck back in a tiny bit of the stormlight swirling against his neck.
Adolin thought he might pass out.
“You need to sit down, princeling?” Kaladin asked, but his voice was a low, lazy rumble, and didn’t help at all. Adolin felt a sudden jolt of something that should have been panic, realizing how far in over his head he was, but as Shallan pivoted on her heels to smirk at him he realized it was something else, something that felt good.
Oh, storms.
Was this a thing?
He was never going to live this down.
“Your turn, I think,” Shallan said thoughtfully, and held out her hand; Kaladin wordlessly reached into his pocket and filled her palm with bright new infused spheres. Shallan hummed a tuneless cascade of notes matching the rhythm of the spheres dropping one by one, and then giggled.
Adolin pointed the spheres. “But I can’t— I’m not—“
“We know, dear,” Shallan said, and dragged him down the same way she had dragged Kaladin. Her lips were against his, soft but cold, from the Stormlight, Adolin supposed. He gasped at the shock of them and Shallan used the opening to fill his mouth with Stormlight. He couldn’t breathe it in like she or Kaladin could, but he could feel it, wet like fog. It tasted like her. Or maybe that was just in Adolin’s mind, but if so his mind was convincing enough to fool the rest of him. Adolin tried to make Shallan linger, moving his lips and flicking his tongue gently against hers, but she withdrew and left him straining after her.
Never, ever going to live this down.
Adolin considered that it might be worth it.
Not quite stupid enough to see if breathing Stormlight instead of air would choke someone who wasn’t a Radiant, Adolin let Shallan’s Stormlight (Kaladin’s? Both? There was a thought) out in a thin stream, trying to savor it as long as possible. He was lightheaded when he stopped, though Adolin didn’t think it was from lack of air.
“Does that make sense?” Shallan asked. She was a menace. Adolin was maybe probably going to kiss her. Right now. He told her so.
“All right,” she said, and her laugh faded off into a sigh as he did so. Blindly Adolin reached out towards Kaladin, and was rewarded with the feel of a warm, calloused palm sliding into his.
“My turn, I think,” Kaladin said, mimicking Shallan. Adolin turned his head and Kaladin caught him by the mouth. Adolin’s arm was still around Shallan’s waist, his other hand still gripping Kaladin’s, and he was glad they were all so close because he suspected he’d fall over if he tried to walk right now. Shallan tugged him back around and she and Kaladin passed Adolin back and forth for a time, their kisses becoming more languid but also more filthy. When Adolin was breathing too hard to respond properly (Stormfather, why was it like this, this was just kissing, it was never like this) Kaladin sucked in the last of the Stormlight from the spheres he’d given Shallan and gave it back to her along with an edge of teeth. Adolin could feel himself going cross-eyed trying to watch them both.
“Sometimes you do have good ideas,” Kaladin murmured against Shallan’s mouth, and pulled back with a look of regret. All the spheres had gone dun. He leaned into the window and stretched his arms over his head, rotating them at the shoulders and wrists.
“Only sometimes?” Shallan sniffed, but her eyes were sparkling. “Speaking of, I really do have to get back to those calculations. Navani wants them by this evening…”
“Please don’t talk about my aunt right now,” Adolin begged, and Shallan laughed. She pressed a final kiss to his shoulder, over his uniform— as high as she could reach now that he had straightened back up— before turning and making her way back to the desk. Adolin watched her go with a sense of adoring, doomed helplessness, and looked at Kaladin to see the emotion mirrored in his expression.
“We’re very lucky men,” Adolin said. Kaladin nodded. Then, shaking himself sharply, he gave Adolin his best insolent eyebrow.
“You’re luckier than me,” Kaladin said. “I also have to court you.”
“You wound me,” Adolin said, clasping a hand to his heart, and took the upward twitch at the corner of Kaladin’s mouth as an excuse to take his hand again. Kaladin snorted dismissively and looked back over at Shallan, but he let Adolin come close again and lean his head against his shoulder, and he didn’t let go.