Page 240 of Salt Between the Wolves

He could be in the city before nightfall, and whether Leander would understand or not mattered very little to him at the moment.

A gull wheeled overhead, its cry swallowed almost immediately by the wind, and then another sound reached him—measured footsteps that were neither hurried nor cautious, but simply certain.

Soren didn't turn.

"There was a time," he said without looking back, "when you were capable of arriving before me."

A quiet chuckle answered him.

"There was also a time when you possessed something resembling patience."

Soren closed his eyes for the briefest moment, thinking that some things, it seemed, refused to change.

Soren turned at last.

Leander stood a few paces behind him, one hand resting lightly on the weathered stone wall of the tower. The sea wind pulled at his dark cloak, though he seemed as unmoved by it as by the silence stretching between them.

For a long moment, neither man spoke, until Leander broke it first.

"You look worse."

Soren glanced down at the bandage beneath his cloak before meeting his friend's gaze again.

"I've been told I wear injuries well."

"I wasn't referring to your shoulder."

The answer came so evenly that it almost sounded casual, almost.

Soren let out a quiet breath that might once have become a laugh.

"I was beginning to miss your talent for insults."

"I had to make certain you were still capable of recognizing them."

For the first time since arriving, the corner of Soren's mouth lifted, though only briefly before the expression disappeared as quickly as it had come.

Leander noticed, as he noticed everything.

"You rode alone."

"I preferred it."

"I didn't ask whether you preferred it."

Soren's jaw tightened.

"No."

Leander nodded once, accepting the answer without comment as his gaze drifted toward the horse standing several yards away.

"Tired."

"He carried me here."

"So did mine."

The conversation sounded aimless, almost absurdly ordinary, yet beneath every sentence lay the quiet assessment of two men who had known each other long enough to notice what remained unsaid.