Page 260 of Salt Between the Wolves

Eira stepped aside, and Leander entered just far enough to allow her to close the door, without sitting or making himself comfortable, simply looking at the desk, at the parchment, and then back at her.

His gaze rested briefly on the single name written there, but he said nothing about it, and for that she was grateful.

"The council will send riders before dawn," he said.

"To whom?"

"Several people—harbor commanders, outpost captains, and a few old friends who dislike being called allies until war makes the word convenient."

Despite herself, Eira almost smiled.

Leander watched her carefully.

"You heard more than I intended you to hear."

"I heard what everyone in that room heard."

"No," he said, his voice gentle but not soft. "You heard it differently."

Eira turned toward the window, where the sea beyond it was restless and dark.

"Did you come to tell me I should not worry?"

"No."

"Good."

"I have never found that advice useful."

Silence settled between them as Eira folded her arms, though not from cold.

"Will he win?"

Leander did not ask who she meant, and that was answer enough.

After a moment, he said, "Soren is difficult to kill."

Her throat tightened.

"That is not the same thing."

"No."

The honesty landed harder than reassurance would have.

Leander moved to stand beside her, leaving enough distance that she did not feel crowded.

"Vargan is not careless," he said. "He won't move without believing the field favors him."

"And Soren?"

"Soren won't wait for the field to favor him."

Eira looked at him then.

Leander's expression remained unreadable, but there was something measured in his eyes—not pressure or judgment, but observation.

"He will meet him," she said.