Page 169 of Salt Between the Wolves

Leander took a sip of wine before replying.

"Apparently I will."

The matter seemed settled, not by him but by everyone else, and to Eira's astonishment no one appeared concerned by that fact.

For the first time that evening, she found herself wondering not who Leander was, but what kind of place could possibly have produced him.

The following morning arrived wrapped in fog.

From her window, Eira could barely see the harbor below, where ships appeared and vanished like ghosts drifting through pale silver mist while their bells carried faintly across the water.

She had just finished breakfast when someone knocked. The sound was familiar now and far less startling than it would have been a week ago.

"Come in."

The door opened, and Leander stepped inside carrying two steaming cups.

Eira immediately narrowed her eyes.

"You brought provisions."

"A precaution."

He offered her one of the cups.

"Against what?"

"Questions."

She accepted it anyway.

The drink smelled rich and bitter, and whatever it was, Silverwake seemed determined to serve it constantly.

Leander glanced toward the window.

"The city disappears when it does this."

"The fog?"

"It likes to remind us who's in charge."

"The sea?"

"The sea is always in charge."

Eira suspected he believed that completely, and the thought made her strangely curious.

Leander took a sip from his cup.

"You were volunteered yesterday."

"I noticed."

"My condolences."

"Thank you."

"Unfortunately, there is nothing I can do."