Mistborn #02 The Well of Ascension

probably have to get a new pastry chef—either that, or have desserts ordered in. She's rather particular about her pastries."
    "Allrianne Cett is the daughter of Lord Cett," Elend explained as Vin—ignoring the chairs—sat on the edge of a planter beside his chair, laying a hand on his arm. "Apparently, she and Breeze are something of an item."
    "Excuse me?" Breeze huffed.
    Vin, however, wrinkled her nose. "That's disgusting, Breeze. You're old. She's young."
    "There was no relationship," Breeze snapped. "Besides, I'm not that old—nor is she that young."
    "She sounded like she was about twelve," Vin said.
    Breeze rolled his eyes. "Allrianne was a child of the country court—a little innocent, a little spoiled—but she hardly deserves to be spoken of in that manner. She's actually quite witty, in the right circumstances."
    "So, was there anything between you?" Vin pressed.
    "Of course not," Breeze said. "Well, not really. Nothing real, though it could have been taken the wrong way. Was taken the wrong way, actually, once her father discovered. . .Anyway, who are you to talk, Vin? I seem to remember a certain young girl pining for an old Kelsier a few years back."
    Elend perked up at this.
    Vin flushed. "I never pined over Kelsier."
    "Not even at the beginning?" Breeze asked. "Come now, a dashing man like him? He saved you from being beaten by your old crewleader, took you in. . ."
    "You're a sick man," Vin declared, folding her arms. "Kelsier was like a father to me."
    "Eventually, perhaps," Breeze said, "but—"
    Elend held up a hand. "Enough," he said. "This line of discussion is useless."
    Breeze snorted, but fell silent. Tindwyl is right , Elend thought. They will listen to me if I act like I expect them to .
    "We have to decide what to do," Elend said.
    "The daughter of the man threatening us could be a very powerful bargaining chip," Dockson said.
    "You mean take her hostage?" Vin said, eyes narrowing.
    Dockson shrugged. "Someone has to state the obvious, Vin."
    "Not really a hostage," Ham said. "She came to us, after all. Simply letting her stay could have the same effect as taking her hostage."
    "That would risk antagonizing Cett," Elend said. "Our original plan was to make him think we're his ally."
    "We could give her back, then," Dockson said. "That could get us a long way in the negotiations."
    "And her request?" Breeze asked. "The girl wasn't happy in her father's camp. Shouldn't we at least consider her wishes?"
    All eyes turned toward Elend. He paused. Just a few weeks ago, they would have kept on arguing. It seemed strange that they should so quickly begin to look to him for decisions.
    Who was he? A man who had haphazardly ended up on the throne? A poor replacement for their brilliant leader? An idealist who hadn't considered the dangers his philosophies would bring? A fool? A child? An impostor?
    The best they had.
    "She stays," Elend said. "For now. Perhaps we'll be forced to return her eventually, but this will make a useful distraction for Cett's army. Let them sweat for a bit. It will only buy us more time."
    The crewmembers nodded, and Breeze looked relieved.
    I'll do what I can, make the decisions as I see they must be made , Elend thought.
    Then accept the consequences .

He could trade words with the finest of philosophers, and had an impressive memory. Nearly as good, even, as my own. Yet, he was not argumentative .

22
    CHAOS AND STABILITY, THE MIST was both. Upon the land there was an empire, within that empire were a dozen shattered kingdoms, within those kingdoms were cities, towns, villages, plantations. And above them all, within them all, around them all, was the mist. It was more constant than the sun, for it could not be hidden by clouds. It was more powerful than the storms, for it would outlast any weather's fury. It was always there. Changing, but eternal.
    Day was an impatient sigh, awaiting the night. When the darkness did come, however, Vin found that the mists did not calm her as they once had.
    Nothing seemed certain anymore. Once the night had been her refuge; now she found herself glancing behind, watching for ghostly outlines. Once Elend had been her peace, but he was changing. Once she had been able to protect the things she loved—but she was growing more and more afraid that the forces moving against Luthadel were beyond her capacity to stop.
    Nothing frightened her more than her own impotence. During her childhood she had taken it for granted that she