Page 167 of The Shattered Rite
Then came the pressure of a hand against her cheek. Gentle. Careful. Reverent.
“Eliryn,” a voice murmured, soft as silk. “You’re safe.”
She turned her face slightly into the warmth, craving the comfort instinctively. And when she opened her eyes—blind,unfocused, lost in the swirling darkness—she knew who it was without needing to see.
Malric.
His fingers trailed from her cheek to her hairline, tucking a strand behind her ear. She felt the brush of his lips press against the center of her palm. Not rushed. Not forced. But slow. Devotional.
“I’ll return soon,” he whispered. “Rest.”
She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Her throat closed around the words. She felt him shift beside her, the faint creak of the mattress as his weight lifted. The air stirred when he stood. And when the door clicked shut behind him, the sound echoed like the slamming of a cell.
Then, at last, Vaeronth surged forward.
His presence roared into her mind like fire igniting dry kindling. Not gentle. Not soothing. Furious. Protective. Terrified.
You are wrong to trust him.
Eliryn’s body tensed, but she did not speak.
He silenced me. Bound me. His magic coiled around your mind and mine. He is not what you believe.
Her lips parted, her voice rasping in denial. “No… no. He wouldn’t.”
He did.
“He was trying to help. Maybe his magic… maybe he didn’t know it blocked you out.”
Vaeronth’s fury cracked against the inside of her skull.I sense an old dragon on him, something that should be impossible. And he reeks of death. Something is very wrong with the magic he carries; something is very wrong with him.
“No.” Her breath hitched, tears stinging her useless eyes. “He held me. He—he spoke to me like he understood loss. He cares.”
He watched you shatter and called it comfort.
“I don’t believe you.”
Silence.
Then Vaeronth’s voice came lower. Quieter.
You don’t want to believe me but you should.
Her hands trembled where they lay atop the blankets. She clutched the edges of the fabric, trying to ground herself, but the warmth that had felt like safety now felt like a cage. She remembered the kiss pressed to her palm—the gentle sweep of his thumb across her skin, the brush of his lips.
Malric couldn’t be a monster.
Could he?
Vaeronth lingered in her thoughts like the scent of smoke after a fire.
Open your eyes to him, Eliryn. Before it is too late.
She curled onto her side, pulling the blankets tighter around her body, burying herself in the lie that had felt like safety. Tears burned down her cheeks as heavy emotions claimed her once again.
And outside her door, unseen and waiting, the predator watched.
Eliryn sat in the quiet that followed.
