Page 38 of The Shattered Rite (The Sightless Prophecy Trilogy #1)

Eliryn raised a hand to shield her eyes. It didn’t help much—her vision already dimmed things substantially—but the pieces she saw were enough. Even the shapes he carved into the sky made her breath catch.

She sank onto a sun-warmed stone, unwrapped one of Marta’s hand pies, and watched him wheel and spiral above her like a myth come alive.

She was halfway through chewing her last bite when a voice, quiet but certain, broke through the air behind her.

"I thought I might find you here."

Her body went still.

She turned—slowly.

Malric stood at the edge of the rise. His cloak stirred in the breeze. Sunlight carved bronze and shadow across the angles of his face, and it was his expression that rooted her. It was composed. Too careful. Eyes locked entirely on her.

His voice broke the quiet. "I take it this isn’t an official trial rite?"

Eliryn blinked, startled. Then smirked, wiping honey from her mouth. "No. And if you’re here to reprimand me for improper use of highland terrain, I’m throwing this pie at you."

A brow arched. His mouth quirked—a half-smile, quick and dry. "I’ll take my chances. Your aim doesn’t look deadly from here."

She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. "What are you doing out here?"

Malric’s gaze lifted, tracking Vaeronth’s slow, deliberate spirals overhead. Even half-shrouded by haze, Vaeronth’s presence dominated the sky.

When Malric spoke again, his voice was quieter. "It’s not every day you see a legend take to the skies. I wanted to see it for myself."

She watched him carefully. "And is it worth seeing?"

His gaze returned to her. Sharp. Restless. "It is."

Then, after a pause: "I hate not knowing the shape of something dangerous."

That made her laugh—quiet, worn, but real. "Is that what we are to you? A threat?"

His expression didn’t shift, but something in his eyes did. A hesitation. A quiet gravity.

"I think you’re a woman trying not to fall apart while the world tries to split you open."

The words hit her like a blade beneath her ribs. Gentle, but precise.

She turned her face away, unable to meet that honesty. Her voice was low. "You’re not wrong. But you’re not exactly a soft place to land, either. You’ve got the look of someone who’s watched too many people bleed."

A beat.

"I’ve watched more than just bleeding," Malric said softly. His voice didn’t stretch for drama. It simply settled. Plain and cold. "I’ve seen what comes before it. And after. The silence. The choices."

As his words settled, Vaeronth’s voice stirred lazily but alert within her mind.

He’s watching you too closely, the dragon said, his tone low but unimpressed. Should I burn him?

Without thinking, Eliryn responded aloud. "Not yet."

Malric blinked, thrown for half a second. "...Not yet what?"

She flushed, realizing. "Vaeronth, my dragon. He’s just—being himself."

Pity, Vaeronth mused, smug in her mind. I need the practice.

Eliryn cleared her throat, glancing skyward. "He’s feeling dramatic."

Malric studied her a moment longer, then nodded once. "Smart dragon." He didn’t press.

She tilted her head, wary but trying not to show it. “What are you really doing here, Malric?”

His gaze flicked to Vaeronth overhead. When he answered, his voice had thinned to something quieter, something harder.

“I wanted to see him.”

She blinked. “And?”

A pause.

“Well… I’d be lying if I said I was only here for the dragon.”

That landed heavier than she expected.

“You’ve been watching me,” she said slowly, testing the waters.

His gaze didn’t shift. “Since your village” A beat. “But I thought I had already made that clear.”

“Because someone ordered you to?” she pressed.

His expression shifted. Not guilt. Not shame. Something darker.

“What did you expect?” he said softly. “You’re the last dragonrider. Of course someone wants you watched.”

Her throat tightened. “So you really are just a royal spy.”

Malric stepped closer. The movement was deliberate. Controlled.

“You know I’m more than that.”

She swallowed, but didn’t back away. “Then tell me what you are.”

“No,” he said flatly. Then, a pause. “Unless you make me.”

She arched a brow, playing despite the unease prickling her skin. “What, should I threaten you?”

A flicker of something sharp crossed his face. “You could try.”

Silence stretched.

“Are you an assassin?” she asked, quiet.

When he smiled, it wasn’t cruel. It was tired. “What do you think?”

She hesitated. Then said what felt like the truth.

“I think you're more than what you're forced to do.”

His breath left him softly. “Then maybe you understand me better than most.”

Eliryn found herself watching his mouth as he spoke, his voice cutting soft and deliberate. His honesty felt like a blade offered hilt-first. But still a blade.

“So someone high up sent their assassin to watch me,” she said, voice steady despite the chill coiling beneath her ribs.

Malric’s gaze didn’t flinch. “I was sent to watch you. Yes.”

Eliryn’s throat tightened. “Because of the whole dragon thing.”

A slight nod. “You’re the last. That makes you valuable. Dangerous.”

Her voice cooled. “So just another mission, then. Another problem to track.”

“I thought so.”

She caught the shift in his tone. “Thought?”

Malric’s jaw flexed. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, almost reluctantly:

“You weren’t supposed to be… this.”

Her brows furrowed. “This?”

He looked at her then—truly looked. And his voice came quieter. Raw.

“Someone I didn’t want to stop watching.”

The words hung between them, heavier than threats.

Vaeronth stirred warily in her mind. He is dangerous.

Eliryn forced herself to keep her tone light, despite the hollow expanding in her chest. “That’s intense.”

Malric’s smile flickered, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Isn’t it?”

She hesitated, caught between instinct and intrigue. “Why tell me any of this?”

“Because you asked.”

She swallowed. “And you’re just that honest?”

“I’m worse than honest, Eliryn.” His voice was low now. “I’m tired.”

She blinked at that. Of all the answers she expected, exhaustion wasn’t one.

“I’ve spent too long in shadows watching people become monsters. Watching good things turn bad.” His gaze sharpened. “But you—”

He stopped. His fists flexed at his sides, a rare crack in his composure.

She watched him carefully. “But me…?”

“I don’t know what you are yet.”

“And that bothers you.”

“It consumes me.”

The honesty of it stole the air from her lungs.

“You don’t even know me,” she whispered.

“I’ve watched enough to want to.”

For a moment, neither of them breathed.

Then she tried for a smirk, though her voice caught slightly. “Maybe you just like the idea of something new. Something unknown.”

His reply was softer. “I know exactly what I like.”

Vaeronth growled softly, unsettled.

Eliryn flicked her gaze skyward. “Careful. You’re going to get yourself incinerated.”

Malric’s gaze didn’t waver. “I think I’d burn gladly.”

That rattled her more than she wanted to admit. She tried to recover. “You’re worse at flirting than you are at spying.”

“I’m not flirting.”

That stopped her.

“I’m telling you I don’t know how to stop watching you.”

The wind stirred between them, cold and sharp.

“I should be afraid of you,” she whispered.

Malric’s voice was softer now, the edge of something broken buried beneath the silk. “Then why aren’t you?”

She didn’t have an answer.

Vaeronth’s presence coiled, tense but silent.

Eliryn drew a slow breath, trying to gather herself, but her words cracked anyway. “Because you told me the truth.”

“You think that protects you?”

She met his eyes, steady now. “It makes you dangerous. But it doesn’t make you my enemy.”

Malric tilted his head slightly, expression unreadable. But something in his gaze flickered. A fracture.

“And you,” she added, “aren’t sure if you want to be.”

He didn’t deny it.

Instead, after a long silence, his voice came low and strange.

“You’re the first person who’s looked at me like I’m anything but a blade.”

Her throat tightened.

“And you’re the first one who hasn’t looked at me like I’m cursed.”

He smiled faintly. Not sharp. Not cold.

Just sad.

A long silence stretched.

She met his gaze. "Who do you work for, Malric? Whose assassin are you?"

His silence held like a blade.

"You know I can’t answer that," he said softly.

"Why not?"

"Because then you’d know who I might be sent to kill next." His expression flickered. "And I’m trying very hard not to make you run."

She breathed a quiet laugh. "That’s your strategy? Vague menace and terrible charm?"

"I prefer ‘disarming honesty.’"

She smiled. Small. Real. "It’s working."

For a heartbeat, neither of them spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable.

It felt suspended. Like the air itself was waiting.

Eliryn wasn’t sure what unsettled her more: the fact that he meant it, or the fact that some part of her believed him.

His gaze didn’t waver, steady as if he’d already decided something about her that she couldn’t see yet.

And for the first time in days, she wasn’t thinking about trials or pain or the weight of her own fear. She was thinking about him.

Her voice was almost hesitant. "Eliryn."

"What?"

"That’s my name. Figured you should know."

Something shifted behind his eyes. Not surprise. Recognition.

"Eliryn," he said. He tasted it. "Fitting."

"Why?"

He smiled. Soft and unreadable. "Strong. Sharp. Hard to forget."

She swallowed. The sound of her name in his mouth did something strange to her chest.

"I don’t know what to make of you," she confessed.

"That’s fair. I’m still trying to decide what to make of myself."

She huffed a quiet laugh. Then sighed. The weight of the moment pressing down again.

Malric’s voice was lower now. "If things were different..."

"But they’re not," she whispered.

He nodded once.

Then added softly, "Try not to let the kingdom chew you up before you get the chance to piss off the right people."

She raised a brow. "Any in particular?"

His smile tilted sly. "Let’s just say... those with crowns tend to bruise the easiest."

She rolled her eyes. But her mouth betrayed her. She smiled.

For a moment longer, they stood in silence. Vaeronth’s silhouette cutting the sky above them. Then Eliryn stepped back.

"I should give my dragon some sky to himself."

Malric didn’t stop her. But as she turned, his voice followed.

"You’re not what I expected, Eliryn."

She paused. Looked back.

"Neither are you, Malric."

Then she walked away.

Vaeronth’s wings beat once above her. Protective. Sure.

And not far behind, Malric stood alone, watching the sky like it had stolen something from him.