“You’ll give away my disguise!” she snapped at him.
He stopped, his pattern slowing.
“You must know what Wit said,” Pattern replied. “He is so wise. He seems to like you and hate everyone else. Ha ha. He made fun of me. It was very funny. I am like a chicken. Ha ha.”
Formless closed her eyes and sighed.
“He said to tell you that we trust you,” Pattern said. “And love you. He said I should tell you that you deserve trust and love. And you do. I’m sorry I’ve been lying. For a very long time. I’m so sorry. I didn’t think you could handle it.”
“Shallan couldn’t,” she said. “Go to the room and wait. I’ll deal with you later.”
She strode away, and fortunately he didn’t follow. It was time to become the woman she’d been building toward ever since she left her home to steal from Jasnah. Formless could finally join the Ghostbloods. She didn’t care about Shallan’s past. Let it sleep. She could be like Veil, who didn’t have to worry about such things.
You’re pretending to be like me, Veil thought. But Wit is right. You deserve to be loved, Shallan. You do.
The High Judge’s quarters were all the way at the top of the plane, near the battlements. It was difficult to ignore the strange geometry up here, past the parks and the trees, because the sky was so close. She wanted to spend time drawing it, but of course she wasn’t like that anymore. She needed to find all this disorienting and strange. Like Veil.
It helped to focus on the target: a small building near the corner of the wall. She passed several honorspren, but not many. She waved to those who waved to her, but mostly strode forward with a sense of purpose.
Once Formless arrived, she loitered near the house, glancing around until she could be reasonably certain no one was looking. That was difficult, with multiple planes to watch. At least the plan was simple. Step up to the door. Soulcast the doorknob into smoke to get past the lock. Sneak in and make her way to the back room, which was the High Judge’s study. Knife him before he could react, then take his place for the trial.
This was her last step. This was the end.
I … Radiant said, her voice distant. I killed Ialai.
Formless froze in place.
I saw … Radiant whispered, that you were about to do it. That you had poison secreted in your satchel. So I stepped in. To protect you. So you … didn’t have to do it. To prevent … what is happening to you now … Shallan …
She squeezed her eyes shut. No. No, she wouldn’t back down. She had to do this. To end it. To end the wavering.
She opened her eyes, strode up to the door, and grabbed the knob with her freehand. It vanished beneath her touch. Soulcasting really was easier on this side. The knob barely cared that she asked it to change.
She pushed open the door. The room inside was packed. Pieces of furniture stacked atop one another. Rolled tapestries. Knickknacks and mementos, like a small glass chicken on the windowsill and a pile of dusty letters on a table.
Formless shut the door with a quiet motion. The windows provided enough light to see by, and she could see the glow of candlelight beneath the room’s other door, the one that led into the High Judge’s study. Kelek was here. She revealed Mraize’s knife, then stepped forward.
As she did so, she felt a coldness—like a sharp breeze. Stormlight left her in a rush. Formless paused, then glanced over her shoulder.
Veil stood behind her.
“I know why you’re doing this, Shallan,” Veil said. “There’s no fourth persona. Not yet. You’ve given yourself another name, so you can tuck away the pain. You take that step though, and it will be real.”
“This is who I want to be,” Formless said. “Let me go.”
“You’re running again,” Veil said. “You think you don’t deserve Adolin, or your place as a Radiant. You’re terrified that if your friends knew what you truly were, they’d turn away from you. Leave you. So you’re going to leave them first.
“That’s why you kept spending time with the Ghostbloods. That’s why you’re here. You see this as an out from your life. You figure if you become the despicable person the darkness whispers that you have been, then it will all be decided. No going back. Decision’s made.”
Formless … Formless …
Was just Shallan.
And Shallan wanted to do this. She wanted to show them what she truly was. So it would be over.
“I can’t be Shallan,” she whispered. “Shallan is weak.”
Shallan put her hands to her eyes and trembled. Veil felt her emotions in a sudden wave of pain, frustration, shame, and confusion. It made her shake as well.
“Who is a better swimmer?” Veil whispered. “It’s the sailor who has swum his entire life, even if he encounters rough seas that challenge him. Who is the stronger man? It is the man who must pull himself by his arms. And that swordsman with one arm … He was probably the best in raw skill. He couldn’t win because of his disadvantages, but he wasn’t weaker than the others.”
Shallan stilled.
“Adolin is right,” Veil said. “He’s always been right about you. Tell me. Who is the strongest of mind? The woman whose emotions are always on her side? Or the woman whose own thoughts betray her? You have fought this fight every day of your life, Shallan. And you are not weak.”
“Aren’t I?” Shallan demanded, spinning. “I killed my own father! I strangled him with my own hands!”
The words cut deep, like a spike through the heart. Veil winced visibly. But that cut to the heart somehow let warmth bleed out, flowing through her. “You have borne that truth for a year and a half, Shallan,” Veil said, stepping forward. “You kept going. You were strong enough. You made the oath.”
“And Mother?” Shallan snapped. “Do you remember the feel of the Blade forming in our hands for the first time, Veil? I do. Do you remember the horror I felt at the strike, which I never meant to make?”
Her mother, with stark red hair—a length of metal in her chest as her beautiful green eyes turned to coal. Burning out of her face. Shallan’s voice, screaming at what she’d done. Screaming, begging to take it back. Wishing she were dead. Wishing … Wishing …
Another spike to the heart. More warmth bleeding out, blood flowing with thunderous heartbeats. Veil always felt so cold, but today she felt warm. Warm with pain. Warm with life.
“You can bear it,” Veil whispered. She stepped forward, eye-to-eye with Shallan. “You can remember it. Our weakness doesn’t make us weak. Our weakness makes us strong. For we had to carry it all these years.”
“No,” Shallan said, her voice growing soft. “No. I can’t…”
“You can,” Veil whispered. “I’ve protected you all these years, but it’s time for me to leave. It’s time for me to be done.”
“I can’t,” Shallan said. “I’m too weak!”
“I don’t think you are. Take the memories.” Veil reached out her hand. “Take them back, Shallan.”
Shallan wavered. Formless had vanished like a puff of smoke, revealing all her lies. And there was Veil’s hand. Inviting. Offering to prove that Shallan was strong.