Page 97 of The Shattered Rite
“Really? I didn’t realize he was so protected.”
“In previous trials, some individuals have thought it best to circumvent the system a bit, go after the source of information rather than wait.”
She looked at him, curious. “You mean questioning the steward?”
He gave a small huff of humorless laughter. “I mean torturing him.”
They shared a quiet beat, Eliryn thinking about all the other chosen to walk these halls before her. She almost couldn’t blame someone for wanting to seek answers any way they could… and she wasn’t sure if that meant she was already changing in ways she couldn’t see. Then-
“I’m glad you made it out,” Silas said. “Not many do. Not whole.”
Her hand tightened on the hilt of her sword as they turned a corner. She wondered if anyone who survived this place leftwhole. Or if surviving simply meant learning how to carry the cracks without letting them show.
“I’m not sure I am whole,” she murmured.
Silas didn’t ask her to explain. Just walked with her, letting the silence do the work of understanding.
They reached the shadowed curve of the corridor where her chamber door stood, dark wood carved with faint, spiraling runes that caught the torchlight like water. Silas stopped a pace before it, hands clasped loosely behind his back.
“I’ll be stationed near the kitchens tonight,” he said, tone easy. “Heard you’ve been down there visiting with us commoners.”
Eliryn raised an eyebrow, half a smile tugging at her mouth. “Word travels fast in this place.”
“Well,” he said, eyes glinting, “when you make a good first impression on the cooks, everyone hears about it.”
“They told you the strange dragonblood interrupted their evening, didn’t they.”
“I never said that.” He paused. “Though I’m not denying it, either.”
She gave a small huff that might’ve been a laugh, the tension in her shoulders loosening just slightly.
“You’ve been kind,” she said after a moment, her voice softer. “More than most.”
Silas shrugged. “Doesn’t cost me anything. And I figure kindness is in short supply with the lot you’ve had to face.”
There was a moment, just a breath, where neither of them spoke. The space between them felt thinner than before, the silence charged—not uncomfortable, but expectant. Eliryn wasn't used to being looked at without judgement. Silas wasn't looking at her like a trial survivor or a mere acquaintance. Not tonight.
Eliryn looked at him fully, and she could feel her eyes brightening in their new unnatural way. “You called medragonrider.”
He blinked. “I did. Meant it fondly, I swear.”
“I know.” She hesitated, then added: “My name is Eliryn.”
Silas straightened slightly. The small tilt of his head held a quiet gravity, the recognition that this wasn’t a name given lightly.
“It's very nice to meet you, Eliryn,” he said.
The torchlight flickered between them, the quiet like a held breath.
She nodded once, then turned to the door. Her palm pressed to the runes, and they flared blue and warm beneath her touch. With a low whisper of wind, the chamber opened.
Before stepping inside, she glanced back. Silas was still there, standing like a quiet watchman in the corridor’s dim curve.
She eased the door shut, and leaned against it for a long moment, listening to the silence. She wasn't ready to call anyone a friend. But Silas… might be the first person who who made her want to.
The chamber welcomed her like the first breath taken after drowning. Warmth and comfort like she had never known.
The scent of juniper and woodsmoke stirred faintly, rising from the hearth that had already lit itself. Beyond, the tub magically steamed, perfumed with something floral and wild, reminding her of the mountains near Lirin’s Edge after a spring rain.
