Page 241 of Salt Between the Wolves

Leander studied him for another moment.

"You've lost weight."

Soren looked out toward the sea.

"I've been occupied."

"So I gathered."

Another silence settled between them, easier than the last, not comfortable and never comfortable, but familiar.

The wind carried the scent of salt between them.

Finally, Leander folded his arms.

"You've been rehearsing what you intend to say to me since you received my letter."

Soren met his eyes.

"And you've been rehearsing your answers."

A faint smile crossed Leander's face.

"No."

It was such a simple answer that Soren frowned.

"I learned a long time ago that conversations with you never follow the version I prepare."

For the first time that morning, Soren laughed, quiet and brief but real, the sound vanishing almost as quickly as it had appeared, carried away by the wind before either of them chose to acknowledge it.

Then Leander's expression grew still.

"So," he said, looking directly at Soren, "ask me the question you've been holding onto for the last four days."

The sea seemed suddenly louder.

Soren didn't answer immediately, his fingers curling once at his side.

When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, too calm.

"Is she safe?"

The question hung between them, carried briefly by the wind before disappearing into the endless noise of the sea.

Leander held his gaze and answered immediately, without hesitation or qualification, with complete certainty.

"Yes."

Something in Soren's chest loosened before he could stop it, though only slightly and only for a moment before the feeling disappeared.

"Where is she?"

Leander's expression did not change.

"No."

Soren stared at him, and for a heartbeat he thought he had misheard.