Page 177 of Salt Between the Wolves

"You've never had one?"

Eira looked toward him.

"No."

The sailor stared as though she had confessed to living underground.

"That's tragic."

"It isn't tragic."

"It absolutely is."

His companions nodded in agreement, which made Eira immediately classify them as traitors.

Leander took another bite and remained completely unhelpful.

The smell reached her again, carrying warm bread, cream, and smoke. Her resolve weakened immediately, which felt like a dangerous development.

Slowly, Eira took a cautious bite.

The pastry was still hot—far too hot, in fact—and she nearly dropped it.

Leander looked entirely unsurprised.

"Careful."

"Why didn't you warn me?"

"Because you wouldn't have believed me."

Unfortunately, that was true.

Eira tried again, this time properly.

The filling was rich and creamy, mixed with smoked fish, onions, herbs, and something she couldn't identify. For a moment she simply stood there, chewing, thinking, and reevaluating several strongly held opinions.

Leander watched her and waited, which was a terrible sign.

Finally she swallowed.

"It's good."

The satisfaction that appeared on his face was deeply annoying.

"I know."

"You were unbearably confident."

"I was correctly confident."

"That's worse."

"It usually is."

The woman in the bakery laughed, the sailors laughed, and even Eira found herself smiling.

Around them, the harbor continued its endless movement as ships arrived and departed while voices drifted across the docks.