Page 135 of The Shattered Rite
He should do as his father commanded. Cull her allies. Break her down. Make her fear becoming more.
Instead… he wanted her to keep seeing him the way she had on the cliffside.
Like he wasn’t just a weapon.
Malric sat heavily on the edge of his bed, jaw clenched, teeth grinding.
She’s a threat.
He knew that.
And yet, she was the only person in years who made him feel like more than the blade his father had forged.
She doesn’t know what I am.
That thought helped. A little. But not enough.
Malric stared at the wall until the torch burned low.
And in the silence, a darker thought whispered beneath his skin:
If he couldn’t have her…
Maybe having her fear would be enough.
Either way, she’d belong to him.
He was already too far gone not to want that.
Not to need it.
Not to take it, if she didn’t offer.
His fingers flexed, aching for the hilt of his blade.
One day, she would learn exactly what he was.
And he wasn’t sure whether he wanted her to run from him.
Or into his arms.
This time, he didn’t resist the hunger crawling beneath his skin.
He let it burn.
And welcomed the ruin it promised.
Chapter 20: The Edge of Knowing
"To ask what lies beneath the surface is to risk what holds you afloat."—Sayren of the Shattered Isle, philosopher-exile
The walk back through the orchards felt longer than before.
Each step pulled at the ache in her heels, the raw skin stinging, but she kept going. She told herself it was the wind slowing her, or the weight of Vaeronth’s presence circling lazily overhead. But deep down, she knew better.
Her mind was too full.
She kept seeing Malric’s face. The way he stood so still, too careful, like something dangerous loosely caged. His words echoed:It consumes me.
