Page 146 of The Shattered Rite
She stayed.
Because it was all she had left to give.
Because she couldn’t make herself let go.
Interlude 9: Malric
“Obedience is not the absence of love. Sometimes, it’s the weapon love becomes.”—High Marshal Elyen, Letters from the Border War
Malric stood in the shadows of the colonnade.
She didn’t know he was there.
But that didn’t stop him from watching.
Her shape moved ahead, lean and deliberate, shoulders squared against the weight of the king’s words still echoing in the halls behind them. Her hair caught the flickering torchlight like molten copper, loose strands shifting with every step.
His father’s voice pulsed in his mind:remove her tether.
She leaned toward Silas.
Malric’s fingers flexed.
The command wasn’t what drove him forward. He told himself that. Over and over.
This wasn’t obedience.
It wasneed.
Silas didn’t deserve to be the one beside her.
He moved with them, unseen. Like a blade waiting for a reason.
Then—
“I can’t… see.”
Her voice cracked.
Malric froze.
He felt it, physically, like a dagger between his ribs. He knew her voice now, could track every fracture in it.
She hadn’t told him her eyes were that bad.
He hadn’t noticed it.
Silas turned to catch her, steadying her by the arms. His touch lingered, too careful. Too familiar.
Something in Malric burned black.
And he moved.
Not for the king.
For himself.
The knife was already in his hand before he realized it.
