Page 33 of Iron Beneath the Snow

“That,” Soren said, “is precisely why she matters.”

Below them the fire cracked sharply, sending sparks spiraling upward.

His second watched him carefully.

“You intend to use her presence to widen the fracture inside Frostvein.”

“I intend to use the fracture that already exists,” Soren replied. “Her arrival simply makes it visible.”

“And if the fracture runs both ways?” the wolf asked. “If she unsettles Ironfang instead?”

Soren did not hesitate.

“She won’t.”

His second did not immediately argue, but the doubt in his expression remained.

Soren shifted his weight against the railing and gestured subtly toward the wolves below.

“She arrived here alone, cut off from her father and from the structure that defined her position. That leaves her with very little leverage outside Ironfang.”

“And if she decides not to align with us?”

Soren glanced at him.

“She doesn’t have to. Her presence here is enough.”

The wind outside pressed faintly against the stone walls.

At the base of Soren’s sternum, the mark tightened almost imperceptibly.

A low, intrusive awareness flickered beneath his ribs.

He ignored it.

“She carries the foreign rite visibly?” his second asked.

“Yes,” Soren said. “There was no point in hiding it.”

“Good.”

The wolf nodded once.

“It will unsettle any Frostvein sympathizers who think purity still matters here.”

“That,” Soren said quietly, “is exactly the effect I want.”

Another pause followed.

“And if Vargan attempts reclamation?” his second asked.

Soren considered that question longer.

“Vargan will respond,” he said eventually. “He always does when control slips out of his hands.”

“But?”

“But he will need to decide whether reclaiming her strengthens his position or exposes weakness in the White Law.”