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Dalinar gathers his sons in the sitting room of his complex over a new hearth-fabrial and tells them, plainly and without preamble, what he has decided. He intends to abdicate the princedom to Adolin within the week. He believes the visions may be an inherited disease of the mind, like the one Gavilar showed in his last years, and he will not let the Kholin name be dragged down with him.

*This is insane*, Adolin says — having spent months arguing exactly the opposite and now confronted with what asking for it has cost him. *That is appropriate, as — it appears — I am as well*, his father answers. Adolin paces the rug and protests. Renarin sides with him gently, almost wonderingly: their father has been the kingdom's spine since the king died, and pulling it out now leaves nothing standing. For the first time the elder son argues openly, with embarrassment in his voice, that he NEEDS his father not to step down. He is not yet the highprince anyone needs him to be.

Navani arrives at the door later in the evening, alone, in court silks she did not need to put on, and presses the same point in private. Dalinar tells her he cannot keep ignoring his own code and his own ethics and call himself the man who wrote them; he becomes worse than the highprinces he has condemned — a hypocrite. *Please*, he says, when she will not let it go. *Just go. Do not taunt me today.* She leaves without another word, and the door clicks shut behind her with a precision that hurts more than a slam would have. He sits down in the chair, closes his eyes, and asks the Almighty — silently, with no hope of an answer — to please just let him know what to do.