Page 126 of Salt Between the Wolves

At some point, Ironfang entered the conversation.

The change was subtle, beginning with a passing remark about a trade route that seemed entirely insignificant, yet Eira felt the shift immediately. The table quieted, not completely but just enough for her to notice.

She saw Aldric glance briefly toward her and noticed Maelin do the same, while Leander alone appeared unaffected. He continued eating as though nothing had changed before asking, after a brief pause:

"And how is Soren?"

The question landed unexpectedly, not because he had asked it but because of the way he had done so. There was no suspicion, no criticism, and no challenge in his voice; he sounded like someone asking after an acquaintance he had not seen in some time.

Eira looked up before she could stop herself.

Leander wasn't looking at her. The question had been directed at Aldric, yet somehow she had the uncomfortable feeling that it was meant for everyone at the table.

Aldric considered the answer.

"Stubborn."

A faint smile touched Leander's mouth.

"That narrows it down considerably."

A few people laughed, the tension eased, and the conversation moved elsewhere.

Even so, Eira found herself thinking about the question long after it had passed. It wasn't what had been asked that lingered in her mind but why, because for the first time since leaving Ironfang she had heard Soren's name spoken without judgment, expectation, or the weight of history attached to it. He had been spoken of simply as a person.

That realization stayed with her through the remainder of the meal.

Eventually the evening began to wind down as the children disappeared first and several of Leander's riders excused themselves soon afterward. The room gradually emptied while chairs scraped against the wooden floors and lantern light flickered across the maps covering the walls.

Eira had just risen from her seat when a voice stopped her.

"Eira."

She turned and saw Leander standing near the end of the table.

For the first time all evening, his attention rested fully on her, and the room around them seemed suddenly quieter—not empty, merely distant.

For a moment neither of them spoke before he finally said:

"Walk with me tomorrow."

Eira blinked, caught off guard by the request.

"Why?"

A corner of his mouth lifted.

"Everyone else has spent the last twenty-four hours telling me who you are."

His gaze remained steady.

"I'd rather hear it from you."

Before she could think of a response, he inclined his head and turned away, making it clear that the conversation was, apparently, over.

Eira remained where she was for several seconds after he left, and for reasons she couldn't quite explain, she found herself looking forward to tomorrow.

Sleep did not come easily that night, though it was not because of fear or uncertainty, especially since Eira had long since become accustomed to uncertainty during her travels.