Page 17 of Salt Between the Wolves
Eira studied him for another moment before stepping slightly aside from the doorway.
“Come in before you freeze the corridor.”
The attempt at lightness only sharpened the tension between them.
Soren crossed the threshold slowly.
The door closed behind him with a muted sound that suddenly felt much louder than it should have.
Warmth gathered immediately around him — firelight, wool, the faint scent of cedar smoke woven into the room beneath something softer that belonged entirely to her.
The bond tightened hard enough that he nearly exhaled through his teeth.
Eira noticed.
Her expression shifted slightly. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
The answer came too quickly.
Her gaze narrowed a fraction. “You look like you fought half the fortress.”
“I fought Riven.”
The words slipped out before he decided to say them.
A brief pause followed, but it was long enough for Eira's attention to sharpen immediately.
Eira’s attention sharpened immediately. “Why?”
Because he touched you too easily. Because you laughed beside him. Because I nearly put a sword through his throat for no reason I can explain without sounding unstable.
Soren looked away first.
“Training.”
The lie settled badly between them.
Eira watched him in silence for another moment before crossing slowly toward the hearth. Firelight moved along the edges of her skin as she stopped beside it, close enough that warmth softened the cold still clinging to her from the stone corridors outside.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” she said at last.
She did not sound angry. The certainty in her voice was far more difficult to face.
Soren said nothing.
“That isn’t the bond,” she continued quietly. “That’s you.”
The words landed too cleanly.
His restraint felt dangerously thin tonight, worn down by too many weeks of pressure layered one over another without release.
“You think I haven’t noticed?” she asked.
He should have answered carefully.
Instead: “I noticed you stopped minding.”
