Page 257 of Salt Between the Wolves

Leander stood at the far end of the long table, maps covering nearly every available surface, while messengers lingered near the walls and several naval officers she recognized from previous meetings were present as well, including Captain Maren Voss.

The woman noticed her first, her grey eyes narrowing briefly before she nodded toward an empty space near the wall in a gesture that was not welcoming, merely accepting.

Leander followed the movement and looked up.

"Eira."

The room quieted slightly.

"You may as well come in," he said. "It appears half the city already knows what we're discussing."

A few restrained smiles appeared around the table as Eira crossed the room and took the offered place, immediately sensing that something was wrong—not tense, but urgent.

One glance at the maps confirmed it: the northern territories, the mountain passes, Ironfang, Frostvein.

Her stomach tightened.

"What happened?" she asked.

One of the messengers answered first.

"Reports from the northern roads."

Another pushed a sealed document across the table.

"Additional confirmations from merchants arriving this morning."

Leander opened the letter, and his expression did not improve.

"Frostvein is moving."

Silence followed, not surprised but expected, which somehow made it worse.

"How much?" someone asked.

"Enough."

Captain Maren folded her arms.

"That's a useless answer."

"It is the only honest one."

She clicked her tongue in irritation.

"Vargan never gathers forces without purpose."

"No," Leander replied calmly. "He doesn't."

The captain leaned forward.

"If he's marching south, then we stop pretending this is a border dispute."

Several heads nodded, though one councilor shifted uneasily.

"We still don't know his objective."

"We know his objective," Maren replied. "We simply dislike it."