Page 48 of Salt Between the Wolves

"He talked about the sea."

A brief pause stretched between them before she continued.

"The night before. He spent half the evening trying to convince everyone they needed to see it."

A faint shadow crossed Soren's face.

"He told that story often."

The answer hurt more than she expected.

It reminded her that Riven had belonged to this place long before she arrived and that everyone in Ironfang carried memories of him she would never share.

The room grew quiet again while dawn slowly crept across the mountains beyond the walls.

Eventually, Soren broke the silence.

"The attack wasn't random."

Eira closed her eyes.

Of course.

The conversation had finally arrived where it always seemed to go, back to strategy, threats, and consequences—the things that somehow always demanded attention even when grief still sat raw and bleeding between them.

"They knew where the patrol would be."

She remained silent as he continued.

"They wanted a response."

"And they got one."

The words came out flatter than she intended, and she immediately hated how empty they sounded.

A muscle tightened in Soren's jaw, and for several moments neither of them spoke before Eira finally lifted her gaze to meet his.

"They blame me."

It wasn't a question, and the silence that followed lasted just long enough to tell her everything she needed to know.

"Some do."

Something inside her gave way, not dramatically but quietly, like ice cracking beneath deep snow.

She nodded once, as though she had expected the answer all along.

Perhaps she had.

"And you?"

The question lingered between them, unanswered.

Eira held his gaze, refusing to let him look away.

"And you?"

For the first time since entering the room, he looked genuinely tired—not physically exhausted, but worn down by something deeper and far more difficult to bear.