Page 14 of Salt Between the Wolves

Riven felt it too.

Soren saw the exact moment confusion finally overtook concentration in his expression. It was neither fear nor anger, but something far more unsettling.

What the hell is happening?

The realization should have stopped him.

Instead, something darker tightened beneath his ribs as Riven stumbled back another step and barely managed to recover his footing. All Soren could suddenly see was Eira standing beside him in the stables, laughing softly while Riven leaned a little too close.

The memory struck hard enough to distort the next movement.

He attacked again, moving faster than he intended.

Riven barely managed to block before the force of the blow knocked him completely off balance. One knee slammed into the packed earth, and the training sword slipped in his grip.

Soren advanced anyway.

A murmur of surprise moved through the ring.

Kael immediately pushed away from the post.

"Soren."

The warning carried clearly across the yard, sharp enough to cut through the growing tension, but Soren barely heard it.

Riven looked up from the ground, breathing harder now, genuine disbelief replacing the humor he had carried into the sparring match.

"What the hell—"

The next strike stopped inches from impact.

Soren froze as the full weight of what had almost happened crashed into him.

For one terrible second, he understood with complete clarity that he had not intended to stop.

Silence settled across the training grounds, heavy and unnatural, carrying the unmistakable weight of something everyone present understood should never have happened.

Soren stepped back abruptly.

The sword felt wrong in his hand now, heavier than it should have been, as though it belonged to someone else.

Riven rose slowly, his gaze never leaving Soren's face. The confusion remained, but now it was joined by concern and something dangerously close to suspicion.

Around them, no one moved.

Even the wind crossing the yard seemed to have quieted.

A brief glance around the ring confirmed what Soren already knew. The same realization was written across every face.

Something is wrong with him. The thought landed coldly.

Without another word, he hurled the practice blade aside. It struck the ground near the weapon rack and splintered along one edge before coming to rest.

Then he turned and walked out of the training yard before anyone could stop him.

The cold struck him the moment he stepped into the open corridor beyond the walls, but it did nothing to ease the pressure still tightening beneath his ribs.

Behind him, conversation slowly returned in low, uncertain voices.