Page 194 of Salt Between the Wolves

The man's jaw tightened.

"There are."

"What complications?"

Another pause followed, one that lasted far too long.

Soren watched him carefully. The hesitation told him everything, and the words merely confirmed it.

"Frostvein has been active."

Of course. The answer no longer surprised him.

"How active?"

Hakon looked toward the fire, directing his gaze anywhere except at Soren, which was a mistake.

"Messengers."

"To you."

"To everyone."

Soren leaned back as the mark burned with a slow pulse beneath his ribs. He forced himself to ignore it.

"He offered you something."

Hakon remained silent, and that was answer enough.

"What did he offer?"

"Protection."

For a moment nobody spoke. Then Garrick let out a humorless laugh.

Hakon did not appreciate it, and neither did Soren.

Protection, as though Ironfang had suddenly become the threat and decades of alliance meant nothing.

The realization settled heavily inside him, not because it was unexpected, but because it was working. He could see it in the man's eyes: fear, doubt, and calculation. Vargan had planted all three, and they were growing.

"What exactly are you afraid of?"

The question came quietly.

Hakon finally met his gaze.

"War."

The answer was immediate and honest, perhaps the first truly honest thing spoken all afternoon.

"I have farmers."

The lord spread one hand helplessly.

"Families."

"Villages."