Page 171 of Salt Between the Wolves

A large map occupied the central table, and Eira approached it instinctively.

The North appeared near the upper corner of the map, reduced to little more than a corner and nothing else.

She stared.

For the first time in her life, Frostvein looked small. So did Ironfang, along with every border she had once imagined important.

Her finger hovered over a coastline stretching far beyond anything she recognized.

"What is this?"

"Southern kingdoms."

She frowned.

"They're that far away?"

"Further."

Her gaze lifted.

"There are more beyond them?"

Leander studied her expression.

For a moment she thought he might laugh, but instead he asked, "You thought the world ended there?"

"No."

After a brief pause, she added, "Perhaps a little."

That earned a brief laugh that was unexpected, warm, and gone almost immediately.

Eira found herself smiling despite herself.

The room suddenly felt larger than before, though perhaps it was she who felt smaller. She wasn't certain.

Leander moved toward another table displaying a collection of carved wooden ships positioned across painted seas.

Currents had been drawn in blue ink, trade routes in red, and storm paths in black.

"You track all of this?"

"We try."

"We?"

"The city."

Eira looked around at the shelves, the records, the charts, and the years of work preserved within them.

"This isn't a room."

"No."

His gaze followed hers.

"It's an argument."