Page 102 of The Shattered Rite
His throat worked as he swallowed. “Five years I’ve worn this crest. Watched the crown cull friends. Watched frost and war take family. This place doesn’t care who you were before. Only what’s left of you when it’s finished.”
That silence stretched again—this time heavier, but not cold.
“I don’t know what’ll be left of me after all of this,” Eliryn said softly. “But I’m starting to realize that my destiny is much bigger than I thought.”
Silas looked at her a long moment. Then, a little awkward, a little too earnest: “You seem… stronger than when I first saw you.”
She blinked, caught off guard. “Stronger?”
He nodded. "You seem… more yourself.”
She tilted her head, a slow smile creeping in. “Careful. You keep talking like that, people might think you admire me.”
Silas hesitated just long enough for it to be obvious.
“I… do.”
Eliryn stilled.
Silas’s gaze flicked to the table, sheepish but honest. “I mean, who wouldn’t? You're the Last Dragonrider. It’s not something you expect to see, let alone talk to.”
She swallowed her surprise, her grin turning sly. “So you’ve been admiring me since day one. Good to know.”
His head snapped up, horrified. “That’s not—I mean—not like that—”
She laughed, full and warm. “Silas.”
He flushed deep red, mouth opening but producing no sound at all.
“Relax.” She nudged his elbow gently. “I’ll take the compliment.”
“I didn’t mean to make it weird,” he mumbled.
“I’m the one teasing you. You’re fine.”
Silas let out a breath, but the smile he gave her then was unguarded. Quiet. Real. “You’re different than I expected.”
“Thought you said you never expected a dragonrider.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I know,” she said softly.
Another quiet moment passed between them, steady as the hum of the hearth.
His knuckles brushed hers as he reached for a wedge of bread. She didn't flinch, but she felt the contact like a spark.
When was the last time someone touched her without expectation? Without needing something in return?
Then the kitchen door creaked open, and a gust of wind stirred the herbs above the hearth. The spell broke, gently. Silas looked toward the noise, then back to her.
“You want more stew?”
She stood. “No. That was perfect.”
They carried their bowls to the basin, rinsed and left them stacked neatly on the side.
As they reached the door, Silas hesitated, his voice quieter now. “If the night drags long… you’re welcome to wander back.”
