Page 163 of The Shattered Rite
“There’s talk,” he murmured, voice soft as silk unraveling. “Among the guards. Some want out of the crown's shadow. Sabotage. Resistance. Whatever it takes.”
A glance toward her, compassion tilting his tone.
“Maybe Silas stood in their way. Maybe that made him a target.”
She lowered her gaze, her hands pale against the blanket. Blood still stained her nails. She heard herself whisper:
“I keep seeing him in my mind. Reaching for me. Like he still wanted to protect me, even after…”
Her throat closed.
“And the blood…” Her voice cracked. “It was everywhere. It was like when my mother passed. One moment they’re alive. The next… gone. And all that’s left is the blood.”
Malric moved.
Slow. Careful. A shadow in silk.
He knelt before her.
Too close.
Be still,Vaeronth breathed.
And she was.
Through the shimmer of dragon sight, she saw the shift. The crack beneath the mask. A twitch at the corner of Malric’s mouth. The faint glimmer behind his lashes.
Calculation.
“I know loss,” he said softly. “I know what it hollows out of you. What it makes.”
Her throat burned, her vision swimming even through Vaeronth’s sight.
It can’t be him,she told herself.
He wouldn’t come now. Not after Silas. Not like this.
No killer would sit beside her while she broke. No assassin would kneel, touch her, speak softly, unless—
Unless he cared.
Unless all those small glances, those stolen moments she pretended not to notice… were real.
She wanted to believe it.
Needed to believe it.
It was the only reason he could be here now.
And so, Eliryn let herself break.
Her grief wasn’t just for Silas. Not anymore.
It cracked open inside her, uncoiling in violent waves.
She broke for her mother, left broken in a burning cottage.
For herself.
