The Well of Ascension: Book Two of Mistborn

“I don’t know,” Vin said. “Once maybe I would have thought you a fool, but … well, that’s kind of what trust is, isn’t it? A willful self-delusion? You have to shut out that voice that whispers about betrayal, and just hope that your friends aren’t going to hurt you.”

“You came for me,” Amaram said, limping to the door, stepping around Reesh’s body. “For saving my life, I spare yours. Five men telling the same story would have been believed, but a single slave will be ignored. The warcamp will be told that you didn’t try to help your fellows—but you didn’t try to stop them, either. You fled and were captured by

“Father,” Renarin said. “For the Old Magic to have affected you, you’d have had to travel to the West and seek it. Wouldn’t you?” “Yes,” he said, ashamed. The empty place in his memories where his wife had once existed had never seemed as obvious to him as it did at that moment.

“Simon, there is more going on here than we know,” Alin said seriously. “That’s why I need you here, with me. I think, whatever happens, that you and I are going to be important.” In his gleaming gold armor, with his golden hair shining in the torchlight, Alin looked every inch a king. And, for once, he was talking to Simon as an equal.