Page 109 of The Winner's Kiss
“To be fair, you had drugged and bound me.”
“Do you remember how you were punished for that?”
“I don’t see what this has to do with the paint.”
“That’s because you don’t understand your punishment.”
Uneasy, Arin said, “The queen told you to choose my punishment. You never did.”
“That entire audience with my sister was in Dacran, which you didn’t speak or understand at the time—or did you?”
“No.”
“I was your translator. I warned you. I said that you had to hope that I wouldn’t lie.”
“Did you?”
“Let’s say that I translated very loosely.”
“Roshar.”
“At the time it didn’t seem important. What would you care about the finer points of Dacran law? And you didn’t have anything worth taking.”
“What exactly did the queen say?”
“That your life belonged to me.”
Arin, whose life had already belonged to many different people, felt his lungs shrink.
“So yes,” Roshar said, “I had—have—the right to decide your punishment, to kill you if I wish. By our law, I can also seize anything you possess.”
“You’re not in Dacra. Your law holds no weight here.”
“My soldiers would say other wise.”
“What do you want?” Arin’s voice rose. “My house?”
“This isn’t entirely about what I want or don’t want. But if we win this war, you’ll have a prize very much worth wanting.”
Arin saw what he meant. “This country wouldn’t be mine.”
“Oh, Arin. Please.”
Arin fell silent. They’d let the fire go out. Shadows had grown around them.
“Puts my sister in quite an interesting position,” said Roshar. “It was a public announcement. One that she clearly didn’t think through, though I’ll be honest and say that when you fetched up on our shores you didn’t appear worth much. It cost her nothing then to offer me your life. It made for good courtly show. And now what ever is yours is mine. Despite its miserably cold weather, Herran is a pretty prize: rich, fertile. A good buffer between Dacra and the empire. My sister has a few options, depending on how this war plays out. If we win against the empire, we could seize Herran by force, which normally wouldn’t cause a fuss, if it weren’t for the fact that she’d be taking from me what our country considers legally mine. I happen to be popular with my people. Another option: she could ask me to give Herran to her.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Because you and I are friends? How touching. And naive. That’s actually what I like about you. You’re so endearing sometimes.”
“I’d never let you. You’d have to kill me.”
“Yes, little Herrani, I know.” Roshar set aside his pipe. He brushed his hands as if cleaning them, then looked down at their emptiness.
Arin was no longer angry. “You wouldn’t,” he said again, “or you’d never have said any of this to me.”
“I’d like to think that, but we’re talking about the same person who deliberately let his little sister be taken hostage by his enemy. What will you say? That we all make hard choices? Do things we regret? Betray our best selves? Yes, exactly. I have wanted to tell you. I didn’t. Not for months.”
