Page 62 of The Shattered Rite
Malric knew it was a leash.
And it owned him.
But tonight, as he followed the silent halls toward the king’s sanctum, every step heavier than the last… Malric realized something unsettling.
He didn’t want to give his report.
He didn’t want to speak her name.
Because for the first time, he wasn’t sure if he was reporting on a target.
Or a secret.
A secret he wasn’t ready to share.
He should have gone straight to the sovereign.
Instead, Malric slowed at the fork where the lower hall bled into the king’s ascent. He lingered, steps quiet, but breath slightly uneven.
The stone here pulsed faintly—wards woven centuries deep. Each step forward would carry him closer to the king.
He didn’t move.
Eliryn’s voice hovered in the back of his mind.
Curious. Direct. She hadn’t flinched from him. She should have.
Malric pressed his gloved thumb against the edge of the cursed ring, a reflex as much as habit. The metal throbbed faintly, pulsing once, like a heartbeat that wasn’t his.
He forced himself to breathe.
Hesitation wasn’t allowed.
And yet... all he could think was:
She smiled at me.
His pace slowed.
And for the first time in his life, Malric wondered what it might feel like… to disobey.
He opened his eyes to the space around him, pulling himself from his thoughts.
Everything here was stone. Dark and cold.
This was the edge of the sovereign’s sanctum. A place where thoughts were not supposed to wander.
Malric waited, forcing every thought from his mind until only the ring’s pulse remained.
And then he took one step forward.
Another.
But not as quickly as he once would have.
Not as easily.
Because when he spoke to the sovereign tonight, Malric knew:
