Page 161 of The Shattered Rite
Garic blinked, caught off guard by the weight of those words.
“I trust you,” she said again, voice hoarse. “And I need you to know… I don’t want the crown. I don’t want a throne. I don’t want power over anyone. I just… I just want to survive. For my mother. For everyone who didn’t.”
Her throat clenched. Her hands trembled, though she kept them clasped tight.
“I’ll help you win,” she said finally, voice low. “If it comes to it. I’ll make sure it’s you.”
Garic said nothing at first. He didn’t argue. He didn’t deflect.
Instead, he reached for her hand.
When his fingers wrapped around hers, it wasn’t a gesture of strategy or comfort.
It was a promise.
“Then we survive,” he said quietly. “Together.”
The words settled into her like an ember, small but solid.
She nodded once, and the knot in her chest loosened.
Garic held her hand for another quiet moment. Then he rose, steady as stone.
“I’ll check on Whitvale,” he said, voice gentle now. “Make sure the truce hasn’t evaporated.”
Eliryn almost smiled. “Good luck.”
At the door, he paused.
“You’re stronger than you think, Eliryn.”
And then he was gone.
Leaving her alone again.
But this time, not quite hollow.
She exhaled slowly and leaned back, letting the tension bleed out of her shoulders.
A single breath passed.
Then—another knock.
She didn’t move. She assumed Garic had returned. “Come in.”
She didn’t see the door open of course. But she felt the faint shift of air, the soft creak of the door hinges. The whisper of boots on stone.
Her breath hitched, remembering how vulnerable she was without her sight.
Vaeronth?Her voice in the bond was frayed, thin as cracked glass.
Someone’s here. I think it’s Garic. Can you help—
Focus.His voice came like steady hands on her shoulders.Breathe. Ground yourself. Let me in fully.
I’m trying—
Let go of the fear. Feel only me. I need clarity to give you my eyes.
