Page 73 of Iron Beneath the Snow

“It doesn’t.”

She adjusted the branch again, expecting him to move on, the way he usually did—observe, note, leave.

He didn’t. Not immediately.

The pause was brief, but it held just long enough to register before he stepped closer, stopping just outside her reach.

“You weren’t shown.”

“No.”

The pause that followed wasn’t long, but it held.

“You watched.”

She glanced up then.

“Yes.”

Mara passed behind them with a bundle in her arms, her shoulder brushing lightly against Eira’s as she went, the contact brief and unremarked.

Soren’s gaze followed the movement—then returned, not to the work, but to Eira.

Not in passing.

He held there a fraction longer than the observation required, as if confirming something that had already been clear.

“You settle into it quickly.”

Eira set the finished strip aside and reached for another branch.

“I remove what slows it down.”

“To suit yourself,” he said.

She shook her head slightly.

“To keep pace.”

That held his attention longer than the answer required.

Not visibly.

But in the way he didn’t move on.

“And if the pace changes?”

She considered that as she worked, her fingers adjusting the angle of the blade.

“Then I change with it.”

The answer came easily, though not without intent.

Around them, the work continued without interruption—voices low, movement consistent, nothing breaking the pattern they stood within.

“You’re being watched,” he said.

“I know.”