Page 142 of Iron Beneath the Snow

“The western patrol hasn’t rotated yet.”

“It’s accounted for.”

She held his gaze.

“That wasn’t the plan.”

“It is now.”

Around them, preparations continued without interruption.

“You’re shifting too quickly,” she said. “If Frostvein is consolidating, they’ll want us to overextend.”

“I’m not overextending.”

“You’re moving ahead of your own structure.”

“It will hold.”

The certainty in his voice was familiar. Precise. Complete.

She studied him for a moment.

“You don’t need to be the one who goes.”

For the first time, something in his gaze altered, too slight to name.

“I do.”

A faint tightening moved through the thread, not hers and gone before she could place it.

A rider approached at the edge of the space.

“We’re ready.”

Soren inclined his head.

He stepped past her, maintaining enough distance that contact never became inevitable.

For a moment, she thought he might stop.

He did not.

He reached his horse and mounted in one smooth motion.

Eira remained where she was as the riders aligned around him.

Then, just before they moved, his gaze found hers.

The thread shifted faintly.

His gaze held for a fraction longer than necessary.

Then he turned.

The signal came, and the group moved forward as one, the sound of hooves carrying across the courtyard before dissolving beyond the gate.

Ironfang closed around the absence almost immediately.