Page 39 of Iron Beneath the Snow

That, too, was a choice.

Soren took his place at the head of the table without acknowledging it, allowing the choice to stand without naming it.

Conversation resumed, though something in it had changed, stretched thinner than before.

One of the older warriors, Bren, watched her without attempting to disguise it.

“You eat meat?” he asked at last.

There was no courtesy in the question. It was a test, offered plainly.

Eira met his gaze without hesitation.

“I was raised in the mountains,” she said. “We did not survive on prayer.”

A few quiet murmurs passed along the table, not quite approval but something close to recognition.

Bren’s mouth twitched.

“Frostvein has always preferred ritual over strength.”

Soren lifted his cup, giving the moment just enough time to breathe before he spoke.

“Frostvein prefers control,” he said, the correction mild but deliberate.

It shifted the direction of the comment without defending it.

Bren gave a low grunt and let the point stand.

Food began to pass more steadily along the table again. Eira accepted a bowl without waiting to be formally served and without performing any of the gestures Frostvein would have expected. She simply began to eat, her movements unremarkable in a way that drew more attention than any display might have.

Soren observed without making it visible.

She did not shrink under their attention.

That mattered.

“You understand,” Bren said after a moment, “that some here lost kin to Frostvein raids.”

Eira did not answer immediately. She finished what she had taken, set her spoon down with care, and only then looked up.

“I understand that Frostvein lost kin to Ironfang raids,” she said.

The tension along the table deepened, not erupting, but settling into something heavier.

Soren did not intervene. He watched how the moment would resolve.

Bren leaned back slightly, studying her more closely now.

“So what are you, then?” he asked. “Frostvein blood sitting under an Ironfang roof?”

Eira held his gaze.

“I am not under Frostvein’s roof,” she said quietly. “And I am not Ironfang blood.”

The words did not rise, but they carried.

A brief silence followed.