Page 193 of Salt Between the Wolves

There were no greetings, no smiles, and no visible relief at the sight of Ironfang riders; there was only caution.

One guard disappeared immediately after spotting them, hurrying toward the settlement as though carrying news or perhaps warnings.

Garrick noticed it as well, and his expression darkened, though Soren said nothing.

The gate opened slowly, far more slowly than it should have.

The village beyond looked unchanged, with people moving through the streets, children playing near a well, and smoke rising from chimneys as life continued much as before.

Yet conversations stopped when the riders passed, eyes followed them from every direction, and doors closed often enough to make the message clear.

A woman gathering laundry hurried her children indoors, an old man lowered his gaze, and several merchants watched openly from across the square.

None of them approached, and none offered a greeting.

The feeling settled heavily in Soren's stomach because he had seen it before, though never here.

He had encountered it in other territories that were preparing to choose a side and waiting to see who would emerge victorious.

The realization left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Black Ridge had not betrayed them yet, but fear had arrived before them, and fear was often the first step toward betrayal.

Garrick guided his horse closer again.

"This wasn't like this six months ago."

"No."

The answer came quietly, and for a moment neither man spoke.

Then Soren looked toward the hall of the local lord standing above the village, where two guards waited outside with the unmistakable posture of men who were observing rather than welcoming.

The old irritation returned alongside the pressure behind his eyes, the heat beneath the mark, and the growing certainty that Vargan was already several moves ahead.

For the first time in years, Soren found himself wondering whether he had noticed the game too late.

The lord of Black Ridge kept them waiting, not for long, but long enough to make the delay both noticeable and deliberate.

By the time Soren was finally shown into the hall, the irritation behind his eyes had settled into a steady pulse.

The room itself was modest, with stone walls, a long table, and a fire burning low in the hearth. Nothing had changed since his last visit except the atmosphere.

Lord Hakon rose when they entered. He was a broad man in his fifties who was usually confident and direct, but today he looked tired and nervous. The second observation interested Soren far more.

"Lord Soren."

"Sit."

Hakon blinked as the invitation he had been preparing died immediately.

Soren crossed the room and took a chair without waiting for permission, while Garrick sat beside him. The lord of Black Ridge lowered himself back into his own seat.

An uncomfortable silence followed before Hakon finally broke it.

"You arrived sooner than expected."

"I was told there were complications."