Page 144 of Iron Beneath the Snow

“Not the ones who come in walking.”

Her attention returned to the table.

“He came through here once before dawn,” she said after a moment. “Not last night. Earlier.”

Eira looked at her.

“When?”

“Not long before you arrived.”

Something in Eira’s attention sharpened.

The woman continued working.

“He said it was a border clash. But I’ve seen enough of those to know the difference.”

“What difference?”

The woman tapped two fingers lightly against her own collarbone.

“He told me a blade had opened it.”

Her hand lowered.

“Steel leaves clean lines. Even when it tears, it follows direction.”

Eira remained still.

“This didn’t.”

The words took a moment to find their place.

“How was it opened?”

The woman’s hands slowed.

“From within.”

Eira’s fingers rose to her own throat.

“A mark?”

The woman looked at her then.

“I assumed you knew.”

For a moment, nothing moved inside Eira at all.

Then memory began to rearrange itself.

The circle.

Heat.

Pressure.

Voices blurred beyond recognition.