Page 271 of Salt Between the Wolves

Kael looked away first. "She might not know."

"She knows enough."

"Not this."

"No," Soren said quietly, "not this."

The admission settled between them.

Somewhere far below, a horse screamed and was quickly calmed, and then silence returned.

Kael folded his arms against the cold. "I hate waiting."

"Good."

"Good?"

"It means you still expect something to happen."

Kael gave him a look, but Soren did not smile.

Across the valley, the Frostvein banners moved in the wind, pale shapes against the dark, and for one irrational moment he imagined Eira seeing them—not from here, but from somewhere far away, perhaps Silverwake, in a room by the sea with a desk and an unfinished letter.

He dismissed the thought before it became hope, because hope was useless in a pass full of armed men, yet it remained anyway, small, unwelcome, and alive.

A scout approached from the eastern ridge, snow crusted over his shoulders.

Kael turned first. "Report."

"No movement through the upper trail," the scout said. "Frostvein has posted watchers, but they haven't advanced."

"And the weather?"

"Worse by morning."

Soren nodded. "Double the ridge watch. Rotate them every two hours. No fires above the tree line."

The scout bowed and left.

Kael watched him go, then looked back toward the pass. "Worse by morning."

"Yes."

"So we have tonight."

Soren said nothing.

Both armies had tonight, Vargan had tonight, and Eira, wherever she was, had tonight; after that, the mountain would begin choosing for them.

Soren remained at the edge of the camp until the cold settled into his bones and the fires across the valley blurred through falling snow, while no one attacked and no one left, and between the two armies White Pass waited.

Chapter 32: First Light

Eira

Several days had passed since the storm.

Silverwake moved at its usual pace, indifferent to the concerns of distant kingdoms.