Page 295 of Salt Between the Wolves

Neither of them raised their voice, yet the words landed anyway, and for the first time something shifted behind her father's eyes, not anger but recognition, perhaps even disappointment.

"Is that what you think this is?"

Eira laughed, though the sound was short and without humor.

"I think that's exactly what this is."

The wind moved through the pass, and somewhere in the distance a horse snorted, yet neither of them looked away.

"You left because you were angry."

"I left because I was tired."

That earned a pause, small but real.

"I see."

"No," she replied, the answer arriving sharper than she intended. "You don't."

For the first time since she arrived, the old frustration surfaced, not the recent one tied to White Pass or the armies, but something much older that she had carried long before Soren, long before Ironfang, and long before the bond.

"You always say that."

Vargan's expression remained calm.

"Say what?"

"That you understand," she said, shaking her head. "You decide what I think, you decide what I need, and you decide what I'm willing to sacrifice."

The air seemed suddenly colder, and around them White Pass had gone very still.

Vargan regarded her quietly before asking the question she had not expected.

"When did you become so unhappy?"

The words hit harder than they should have because they were sincere, which was the worst part, as he meant every one of them.

Eira stared at him, and for the first time since arriving she understood something: they were not having the same conversation, not even close, because she was speaking about choice while Vargan was speaking about loss, and somehow that made everything more difficult rather than easier.

For a moment Eira found herself without an answer, not because the question was difficult, but because it was wrong in a way that left nowhere obvious to strike back.

Vargan watched her quietly, waiting without pressing or demanding, as though he genuinely wanted to know, and that realization irritated her more than anger would have.

"I wasn't unhappy."

His expression changed slightly, in the sort of way most people would never notice, though Eira always had.

"You just left."

"There is a difference."

"Is there?"

The question landed softly, which somehow made it worse.

Eira exhaled slowly.

"If I leave Frostvein, it doesn't mean I hate it."