Page 24 of Salt Between the Wolves

At least, that was what Soren told himself when he crossed the lower yard and spotted her beside the horses being prepared for the western patrol.

Riders moved steadily between the stables and the supply carts, checking tack, tightening straps, and loading provisions for the journey ahead. The yard carried the familiar rhythm of departure—busy, purposeful, but unhurried.

For a moment, he considered turning back.

Then Eira looked up.

Recognition lit her face almost at once. It wasn't surprise that he saw there, but something warmer, something that made the idea of leaving suddenly far more difficult.

“Soren.”

He stopped.

The simple fact that she spoke his name without hesitation unsettled him more than it should have.

For a few moments, neither of them spoke. Snow drifted lazily through the yard, settling on saddles and dark cloaks before melting away.

“You heard about the patrol,” she said.

It wasn't really a question.

“Yes.”

Silence settled between them again, but unlike the silences that had stretched between them for weeks, this one wasn't strained.

That was precisely the problem.

Eira took a small step closer—not enough to draw attention, but enough for him to notice.

“I thought you might.”

The corner of her mouth softened, and with it came the unmistakable sense of hope that had begun to return to her. The realization settled heavily in Soren's chest. After everything that had happened in her room, after the way they had looked at each other and the distance that had nearly vanished between them, she believed something had changed.

The worst part was that she wasn't wrong.

Something had changed, and he felt it every time he looked at her. The difficulty lay not in denying it, but in admitting what it meant and what it might eventually demand of him.

“You shouldn't be taking this route,” he said.

The warmth faded from her expression almost immediately.

“That's the first thing you're going to say?”

Soren regretted the words as soon as they left him. The concern itself was genuine, but he could hear the evasion beneath it, and judging by the look in her eyes, so could she. Rather than acknowledging what stood between them, he had reached for the safest subject available and hidden behind it.

“I mean it.”

“I know.”

Her answer was quiet enough that he almost missed it.

Eira lowered her gaze briefly before looking back at him. He could see her weighing something internally, deciding whether speaking honestly would accomplish anything at all. For several seconds she seemed caught between caution and hope, and when she finally made her choice, the words landed with far more force than their simplicity suggested.

“I thought things were different.”

The memory of her against the wall surfaced instantly, vivid enough that he could still recall the warmth of her beneath his hands and the way the space between them had seemed to disappear entirely. The recollection arrived with dangerous clarity, carrying emotions he had spent the entire night trying unsuccessfully to suppress.

He forced the thought away before it could take hold.