Page 82 of Salt Between the Wolves

Eira was already crossing the room when she heard it.

The innkeeper's daughter stood waiting outside with a folded piece of parchment in her hand.

"No name," the girl said. "The rider only said it was for the lady staying upstairs."

Eira's pulse quickened as she accepted the letter and closed the door behind her.

For several moments she simply stared at it before finally breaking the seal.

The message was painfully short, but the handwriting was familiar nevertheless, and she recognized it instantly despite the years that had passed.

Tomorrow. Midday.

The old watchtower near Blackwater Hill.

Come alone.

— M.

Eira read the words twice and then a third time.

The message contained no greeting, no questions, and no explanation, yet she could almost feel her sister behind every line—careful, cautious, and afraid that someone else might read it.

A strange mixture of relief and apprehension settled inside her.

Maelin had answered, and that alone felt miraculous.

The rest of the morning passed in restless preparation, and by the time she left the village the sky had cleared completely.

The storm clouds had moved east during the night, leaving behind a pale winter sun and fresh snow glittering across the hills.

The road leading toward Blackwater Hill wound through open countryside where small farms dotted the landscape and stone walls emerged from the snow like weathered scars.

Several times Eira passed travelers heading in the opposite direction, but none paid her any attention.

The further she rode, the quieter the world became, until by late morning the road narrowed and began climbing.

Blackwater Hill rose ahead of her, isolated from the surrounding countryside, while the remains of the old watchtower stood upon its highest point and remained visible long before she reached it.

Time had not been kind to the structure. One wall had collapsed entirely, another leaned at an angle that seemed impossible, and dark stone protruded through snow and winter grass like the bones of something long dead.

The place looked forgotten, which was probably why Maelin had chosen it.

Eira dismounted at the base of the hill and led the mare upward.

The wind strengthened as she climbed, and by the time she reached the ruins her cloak was snapping softly behind her.

No one was there yet, and the realization disappointed her more than it should have.

She moved inside the remains of the tower and waited while the silence gave her far too much room to think.

Years had passed since she had last seen her sister—long enough for faces to change, for children to be born, and for entire lives to unfold.

Eira found herself wondering whether she would recognize Maelin immediately and whether Maelin would recognize her in return.

The thought tightened something beneath her ribs.

She crossed toward the broken edge of the tower and looked out across the hills, where the view stretched for miles over snow-covered fields, dark forests, and thin ribbons of road winding through the countryside.