Page 52 of Iron Beneath the Snow

“I believe men who lead packs rarely act without intention,” she said. “Whether that intention is simple is another matter.”

It was not an accusation, and it was not a defense—just a statement grounded in experience.

“And you?” Mara asked after a moment. “What do you believe you’re doing here?”

Eira looked back at her reflection.

The darker fabric, the braid, the absence of white—none of it transformed her entirely, but together they shifted the outline of who she appeared to be, as though something rigid had been replaced with something less defined and more adaptable.

“I think,” she said slowly, choosing the words as she went, “that if I’m going to stand here, it won’t be as something that happened to me.”

Mara watched her for a long moment, then gave a single, decisive nod, as though the answer had confirmed something.

“Good,” she said, and turned toward the door. “They’re already in the yard.”

Eira inclined her head slightly. “Then I won’t keep them waiting.”

Mara left without further comment.

The room fell quiet again, but it no longer felt resistant. It wasn’t familiar—not yet—but it had stopped pushing her out.

Eira lifted her hand once more to the mark at her throat.

This time it did not flare.

It simply remained there, present and waiting, as though it were no longer testing its place but holding it.

Whatever existed between her and Soren was only one current among many.

The rest of Ironfang was watching just as closely—measuring, weighing, deciding where she fit within something that had not yet made room for her.

And somewhere beyond these walls, Frostvein would not remain silent forever.

Chapter 14: Rumor

Soren

Rumors always moved faster than patrols.

Soren had learned that long before Eira crossed into Ironfang. What he had not accounted for was how quickly those rumors would shift once they were no longer directed outward, but inward—toward his own hall.

He did not hear it from the warriors first.

He heard it from the kitchens.

By the time his second entered the strategy chamber just before midday, Soren was already studying the border map carved into the stone table, tracing the fault lines where Frostvein influence pressed too tightly against neutral ground.

“Word is spreading,” the wolf said.

Soren did not immediately look up. “Then be precise. What kind of word?”

“That we achieved exactly what we intended.”

“That much is true.”

His second did not share the certainty. There was a pause before he continued, choosing his phrasing more carefully.

“They’re not talking about Frostvein alliances.”