Page 129 of Salt Between the Wolves

For several minutes, neither of them spoke, and the silence wasn't uncomfortable so much as intentional, as though Leander saw no reason to fill it with unnecessary conversation.

Eira eventually gave up waiting.

"I assume there's a destination."

"There usually is."

She stared at him as a corner of his mouth twitched.

"You're wondering whether I always answer questions like that."

"I wasn't."

"You were."

"I wasn't."

"You were."

To her irritation, he sounded entirely certain.

Leander pushed open the gate leading toward the stables, and the smell reached them immediately: hay, leather, and horses. The familiar scents settled something inside her without her fully understanding why.

Several stable hands greeted Leander as they passed. He knew every one of them by name, and every one of them seemed perfectly willing to tease him.

One of the older men pointed toward a muddy patch near the entrance.

"Careful."

Leander glanced down.

"Why?"

"Because unlike the rest of us, you're important."

The stable hand received a look of profound disappointment.

"That was terrible."

"I've been saving it all morning."

"Clearly."

The man appeared delighted by the criticism.

Eira watched the exchange with growing disbelief because nobody treated powerful men this way, or at least nobody she had ever known.

They entered the main stable, where warmth immediately replaced the morning chill. Sunlight filtered through the wooden slats high above, illuminating drifting dust and rows of stalls.

Leander continued walking past one horse, then another, and then a third before eventually stopping.

Eira followed his gaze.

Her mare lifted her head from the hay, and the horse's ears immediately turned toward her in recognition and trust. The sight tugged unexpectedly at something deep within her chest.

For a moment neither she nor Leander spoke. The mare stepped forward, and Eira rested a hand against her neck.

"You made good time."