Page 242 of Salt Between the Wolves

"What?"

"You asked whether she was safe," Leander said as the sea crashed against the cliffs below. "I answered."

A dangerous stillness settled over Soren.

"I didn't ride across half the North for riddles."

"And I didn't ask you here to discuss geography."

For several moments neither man spoke while the wind pulled sharply at their cloaks and, far below, another wave shattered itself against black stone.

Finally Soren exhaled through his nose, slowly and deliberately, in a gesture that looked remarkably like patience and felt nothing like it.

"You seem determined to waste both our time."

Leander folded his arms.

"On the contrary," he said, his gaze remaining steady. "I suspect this is the first useful conversation you've had in months."

Soren's jaw tightened.

"Careful."

"Or what?"

The answer arrived so calmly that it nearly became an insult, and for a moment the old familiar irritation surfaced between them, not quite hostility but something older, the kind of friction that existed only between people who knew exactly how far they could push before the other stopped finding it amusing.

Leander was the first to look away, not in surrender but in calculation, as his eyes drifted toward the sea.

"When news travels north from Ironfang, it usually follows a pattern."

Soren said nothing.

"Trade reports, patrol movements, and disputes," Leander continued, his gaze returning to Soren. "For years those reports changed very little, because the North likes predictability."

Soren frowned.

"What does that have to do with Eira?"

"Nothing," Leander answered immediately. "That's the point."

The silence that followed felt heavier than before, and for the first time since arriving, Soren had the uncomfortable sense that the conversation was no longer moving where he wanted it to.

Leander continued.

"In the last few months, every conversation I've had with every leader worth speaking to has eventually reached the same question," he said as the sea roared beneath them. "What is happening in Ironfang?"

Soren's expression hardened.

"Then perhaps they should spend less time gossiping."

A faint smile touched Leander's face before disappearing.

"Perhaps, but unfortunately leaders rarely gossip," he said as the wind caught the edge of his cloak. "They observe, and they have begun to notice things."

Soren remained silent.

Leander took a step closer, not in confrontation but simply unwilling to let the moment pass.