Page 191 of Salt Between the Wolves

Garrick held his gaze.

"The truth."

A heavy silence settled over the courtyard while several wolves nearby suddenly found urgent reasons to be elsewhere.

"The truth," Soren repeated.

"Yes."

"And what exactly is the truth?"

Garrick folded his arms.

"That I don't know."

The words landed harder than any insult, not because they were disrespectful but because they were honest.

Something inside Soren snapped—not completely and not beyond repair, but enough.

"You don't know?"

His voice had gone quiet, and Garrick immediately recognized the warning in it, though by then it was already too late.

"You asked."

"No."

Soren stepped closer.

"I asked for information."

The courtyard seemed to shrink around them as tension tightened the air.

"I did not ask for uncertainty."

Garrick's expression hardened.

"And I don't have certainty to give you."

Silence followed, filled with the wrong answer, the honest answer, and the answer Soren would once have accepted without hesitation.

Now it only fed the growing pressure behind his ribs, behind his eyes, and beneath the mark.

For one terrible second he wanted to hit something, break something, do anything to release the sudden surge of anger that startled even him.

Garrick noticed it immediately, and Soren knew he had noticed, which only made everything worse.

Eventually he stepped back.

"Find out."

The words came out harsher than he intended.

"Before someone else does."

Then he turned and walked away without waiting for an answer because he no longer trusted himself to hear one.

Sleep came in fragments that rarely lasted more than an hour before pain dragged him awake again. Silence would follow for a time, then exhaustion would pull him back toward sleep, only for the pain to return and shatter it once more. Somewhere after midnight, Soren stopped trying to measure the passing hours.