Page 232 of Salt Between the Wolves

"You're beginning to see the problem."

The observation irritated her, largely because it was true.

"He never trusted anyone?"

Leander considered the question before slowly shaking his head.

"No. He trusted people well enough. He simply trusted himself more."

The answer settled between them with surprising weight. Somehow it explained far more about Soren than a dozen dramatic stories ever could.

The staircase narrowed slightly as they climbed higher, and wind whistled softly through gaps in the stone.

For several moments, Eira remained quiet. Then, before she could decide whether asking was wise, she said,

"You care about him."

Leander slowed just enough to glance back at her. For a brief moment, something old and genuine softened his expression.

"Yes."

There was no hesitation in the answer, no embarrassment, and no attempt to hide the truth.

"He has been my friend for a very long time."

The simplicity of the admission carried more weight than a longer explanation would have.

Leander resumed climbing.

"When people speak about Soren now, they speak about the alpha," he said, his voice echoing softly within the tower. "The war leader. The man who never bends."

He glanced toward her.

"Very few remember the young wolf who arrived in Ironfang with no claim, no title, and no reason for anyone to follow him."

A long silence followed, the kind that settles after something important has been said.

Eira stared at the worn stone beneath her feet and, for the first time, found herself wondering not what Soren had become, but what he had once been.

The staircase continued upward as stone gradually gave way to weathered wood, while the wind grew stronger with every turn they climbed.

Neither of them spoke for a while, and Eira found herself thinking about sixteen-year-old Soren. The image refused to settle properly in her mind because every version she imagined still somehow looked like the man she knew, only younger, yet just as serious, stubborn, and impossible.

A quiet laugh escaped her, prompting Leander to glance back over his shoulder.

"What?"

"I was trying to imagine him at sixteen."

"And?"

"He still looks annoyed."

To her surprise, Leander laughed, and the sound was genuine.

"That sounds accurate."

Eira smiled despite herself, and for several more steps the mood remained lighter than before.