Page 138 of Iron Beneath the Snow

“You’re different today,” she said, not as a question.

Eira did not answer at once. Her gaze remained on her reflection, not searching for flaws or adjustments, but for whatever Mara had noticed.

At first glance, nothing had changed. The same face. The same composed stillness.

What was missing was the constant readiness beneath it.

She had not noticed its absence until now.

Mara resumed her work, though her touch had grown lighter, more deliberate.

“Did you sleep?” she asked, her tone casual, but not entirely so.

“Yes.”

Mara’s reflection met hers in the mirror for a brief moment, curiosity flickering there before it was smoothed away into something more neutral.

“That’s new.”

A trace of something softer touched Eira’s expression, not quite a smile, but close enough to alter the stillness.

“Yes,” she said.

Her fingers lifted almost without thought, coming to rest lightly at her throat. The warmth that answered did so immediately, not rising or intensifying, but meeting her touch with a calm certainty that did not ask to be examined.

For a moment, she allowed herself to remain there without questioning it.

Behind her, Mara stepped back, adjusting the fall of fabric one last time before letting her hands drop.

“You look rested,” she said lightly.

Eira rose from the chair.

“I am.”

For once, the answer required no qualification.

Mara gathered the remaining pins from the table with small, efficient movements as Eira crossed toward the door.

She paused there only briefly before stepping into the corridor.

The corridors of Ironfang carried the same quiet order as always, movement flowing without interruption as servants, guards, and messengers passed one another with the ease of long familiarity.

The east-wing breach had altered that order. Guards now stood at intersections that had been empty before, and two of the inner passages remained closed while their access was traced.

The steadiness she had woken with remained beneath everything. She did not look for him, and yet the awareness of him existed in the same quiet way the thread now did.

She noticed the shift before she saw him, a slight adjustment in that awareness as she turned into one of the inner passages.

Soren was already in motion, speaking with one of the captains as they crossed the corridor ahead, his focus fixed on the exchange in a way that allowed no distraction.

Eira slowed slightly, not enough to disrupt the flow of movement around her, but enough that the distance between them might close naturally.

The captain inclined his head and continued on, leaving the space between them open.

Soren turned toward her.

“You’ve seen the patrol changes,” he said.