Chapter Text
Kaladin had barely closed the door to his quarters before slumping to the floor with his back against the wall. His melancholy thoughts, like so many men on a battlefield, clamored for his attention, demanding salvation but, as had become his custom, he sat in overwrought inaction. He wasn’t enough. Moash had been right. Kaladin was just going to keep hurting. Everyone he loved was going to die and there wasn’t anything Kaladin could do about it. Unable to cry, Kaladin curled on himself feeling an aching hollowness inside, wishing he could simply crumble to dust and be spirited away by the winds like one of those Fused husks. But he couldn’t. He was trapped by the weight of his own gravid existence. There was only one way out and nothing and no one could help with this. It was inevitable, so why bother fighting? It wasn’t like anyone cared—
A knock came at Kaladin’s door and he ignored it, still knuckling his forehead and squeezing his eyes shut against the crushing despair. Then Shallan’s voice—no, that was Veil’s lazy drawl—drifted through the door, “Eh, bridgeboy? You gonna open this door or am I gonna have to make Pattern unlock it?”
What on Roshar could be so urgent that she was bothering him now of all times? His head snapped up and he looked around desperately for Syl hoping he could send her out to speak with Veil instead, but she was nowhere to be found. The room was empty except for a veritable legion of agonyspren, and Veil was about to break into his quarters. Kaladin panicked. He got to his feet, straightened his jacket, and took a deep breath. The agonyspren receded. Whatever it was, he could master himself a little while longer. He had his hand on the knob poised to open it, his feigned composure securely in place, when he saw a flash of light out of the corner of his eye and the door suddenly swung towards him and he jumped out of the way as Pattern burst from the lock. Veil stood there, arms crossed and leaning against the wall, wearing her usual relaxed expression, a traitorous Syl coalescing from a ribbon of light to rest on her shoulder.
“Mind if I come in?” Veil asked, not waiting for a response before she pushed off the wall, sauntered in, and sat on his bed. Kaladin inwardly cursed his lack of proper furnishings; his bed was the only place to sit apart from the floor. Even though she was wearing Veil’s face, it was really Shallan, and Kaladin felt a disquieting trepidation settle on him at the prospect of being alone in a room with her without a chaperone so he made no move to close the door. Instead, he stood awkwardly in the doorway as if he were the guest in his own quarters.
“You going somewhere, bridgeboy?” she asked idly cocking her head at him as she spoke.
“No, but you shouldn’t be here,” Kaladin answered, continuing to stand awkwardly in his doorway, “it is improper for us to be alone without a chaperone.”
“Shallan is a married woman but Pattern can chaperone, if makes you feel better. He used to do it all the time when Adolin and Shallan were courting. Although I should warn you…I am not here to do anything proper with you.”
“No mating!” came an enthusiastic voice from Kaladin’s bedspread making Kaladin’s face heat.
“He says that a lot,” she said smirking with ironic amusment, then lowering her voice, she continued, “but that is exactly why I am here so why don’t you close that door so the rest of Urithiru doesn’t hear me shouting your name as you bed me?” Kaladin froze unable to believe what he was hearing. As he processed the words, he immediately surveyed the hallway but blessedly saw no one so he rounded on her.
“Veil! You shouldn’t say things like that, even in jest.” Kaladin hissed, glaring at her and closing the door. She clearly wanted privacy and to get a rise out of him and he had to admit she was succeeding on both fronts. As he turned to face her, Veil patted the bed next to her, inviting him to sit there. He stiffly obeyed not wanting her to cause another scene or say something as recklessly obscene has she just had. And yet, his mind couldn’t help but wander…yes, Shallan and Adolin were married and, yes, they were good together and, and yes, he was happy for them and yet he would be lying to himself if he said he held no attraction to this woman. Her words had affected him. Even if he had buried it deeply and she wore a different face, the attraction to her had not simply disappeared because he had willed it away or logicked that their combined traumatic mental illnesses may not lead to healthy outcomes. His head and his heart as well as another part of him did not always agree. He scowled. This was a pointless and inappropriate line of thinking, Shallan had taken oaths and he respected them as much as he respected the person to whom she had made them. Adolin was a good friend and a good man so Kaladin felt guilty for letting his unruly thoughts stray as much as they had already. He needed to find out what she needed from him and send her on her way as quickly as possible because he may no longer be fit to command Dalinar’s forces but he certainly commanded the majority of Shadesmar’s agonyspren of late and they would dutifully return. Soon.
As he settled on the bed a respectable distance from her, Veil eyed him intently and shifted next to him so her arms and legs abutted his. Kaladin sat rigidly, acutely aware of where their bodies touched, not even daring to breathe, knowing he should shift away but not quite being able to force himself to do it. His mind and heart started to race unhelpfully as Veil reached out her hand and slid it down his thigh and back up whispering dangerously low, “What makes you think I’m joking, bridgeboy?” she asked, fixing him with an intense stare. “You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. I see how you look at Shallan.” Storms, he couldn’t help that his body responded to her touch and he didn’t quite meet her eyes as her gaze bored into him. Of course he had thought about it. Extensively. But thinking about it and acting upon it were different things. He shoved her hand away and got to his feet, “Veil, this is inappropriate. You should leave before you do something Shallan regrets.”
Or something I regret he thought anxiously, fighting the urge to swallow dryly as he met her eyes. He could feel that his composure was close to cracking. Why did she have to come to him today of all days?
Veil stood, closing the distance between them, determinedly backing him into the wall as he stumbled away from her. Crazy woman. What had gotten into her? She spoke confidently as she drew close to him and his blood heated further. “I’m not leaving, bridgeboy, until I get what I came for. I meant what I said.” All of his military training seemed to flee beneath her predatory gaze as he stupidly allowed himself to be backed against the wall without even a small shove against her in his own defense. Even more foolishly, he had defenselessly affixed his palms to the wall in an effort to restrain himself from touching her, a mistake he would have never made with an ordinary adversary, as it left his face wide-open for an attack. But this attack, a pathetic part of him admitted, he wanted to land, as the woman he had come to love but could not have, advanced on him with a different face. If Veil touched him at all, he deserved a brusque slap for allowing this impropriety to progress as far as it had but he shamefully craved her touch in whatever form it took. It was deplorable but he also wished Shallan had been wearing her own face so that he could be watching Shallan back him against his wall with hunger in her eyes, not Veil.
Time seemed to slow as she pressed her body squarely against his and he hated himself for inopportunely recalling imagined scenarios from over a year ago. Before she had made her decision. Hopeful fancies that could have been but weren’t. Imaginings that had remained well past the time they were welcome or beneficial flashed, half-formed, through his mind. Her looking up from his chest during the height of the highstorm, him cupping her face gently and pressing his lips to hers comfortingly, reassuringly, acceptingly, the intimacy of their words finding a natural physical expression as a tenuous first kiss. Her meeting his eyes across the warcamps and flashing him a dazzling yet encouraging smile accompanied by a quip about him not wearing one of the boots he had made such a fuss about as she departed with Dalinar’s expedition. Her swatting him playfully then falling into him in a fit of laughter on the ship in Shadesmar as they traded clever gibes and puns. Her seeking him out on the wall walk over the destruction and chaos of Thaylen Field and yanking him by the coat into a smoldering embrace, not caring who saw. Wanting him instead of Adolin because… even though Adolin was a good man, was he smart enough to keep up with or even appreciate Shallan’s witty repartee? And how could a man like Adolin ever understand how it felt to be broken like she had been? Like he had been. Like he was. Like they both were. Stop it. Adolin was a good man and his friend. Bitter questions and hypothetical scenarios served no purpose except to torment him further.
But he deserved the torment.
She had chosen Adolin. Of course she had. He wasn’t a screw up like Kaladin was. How could anyone ever want a wretch like him? He had never done a single thing right in his life. He had abandoned his training as a surgeon and disappointed his father, for what? To fight meaningless battles against innocent people. To continue to survive while everyone he loved died around him. He had been able to protect some but even that had been taken from him today and now the wife of his best friend was here and…
He felt the tantalizing warmth of her body pressing into him, and the fact that he knew this was wrong did nothing to subdue the base eagerness of his body. Storms. He hated himself. A low growl escaped him as he turned his head to the side, squeezing his eyes shut in a useless attempt to pretend he did not want this. He could feel her warm breath against his neck and his pulse quickened further. What on Roshar was she doing and why? His heart thumped and his body thrummed with anticipation but he didn’t trust himself to move, talk, or even open his eyes for fear of what he might see or fear of what he might do. His honorable intentions and precautions didn’t seem to matter though. She grabbed the back of his neck and, before he could react, she wrenched him down to crush his mouth against hers. Her lips were warm and soft as she opened her mouth to him but Kaladin’s mind went blank with shock and he froze as Veil moaned a relieved sigh into his mouth. Then, automatically, his body started to respond before his brain could catch up to what was happening. He released the breath he had been holding and yielded to the kiss, returning it. Momentarily letting it overwhelm him while Veil’s fingers tightened in his hair and he groaned weakly against her lips.