Page 258 of Salt Between the Wolves

The room fell silent again as Eira watched the exchange carefully, noting the absence of uncertainty in the captain's voice and the presence of something far sharper—contempt earned over years, perhaps decades.

"What is it?" Eira asked quietly.

Captain Maren looked directly at her.

"Control," she answered without hesitation. "That man would rather set half the North on fire than lose control of the other half."

No one contradicted her, not even Leander, which somehow made the statement worse.

Another messenger stepped forward.

"There is more."

Leander gestured for him to continue.

The man swallowed.

"Our observers reported movement from Ironfang as well."

For a moment Eira forgot to breathe as the messenger continued.

"Scouts, supply trains, riders carrying orders east and west—not panic, but preparation, and the distinction matters."

Leander lowered his gaze to the map.

"Soren is responding."

The words settled heavily across the chamber, yet nobody sounded surprised or questioned it, because of course he was responding—he was Alpha.

Captain Voss gave a short nod.

"Good."

One of the merchants frowned.

"Good?"

"Would you prefer he wait until Frostvein reaches his gates?"

No one answered as Maren's gaze returned to the map.

"If Vargan marches, Ironfang marches."

The statement sounded less like an opinion and more like a law of nature, as inevitable as storms bringing rain or winter bringing snow—Vargan brought war, and Soren answered.

The room continued discussing supply routes, timing, and distances, but Eira heard very little of it, finding herself instead staring at the marker representing Ironfang, at the mountains beyond it, and at the thin roads winding through the North.

It was not because she feared war—she had grown up among people who prepared for it every winter—and not because of the bond, which for the first time was nowhere in her thoughts.

It was something far simpler and far more frightening.

Soren was moving, not waiting, not searching for her, not trying to change her mind, but preparing in the way an Alpha prepared when conflict became unavoidable.

A councilor traced a route across the map.

"If Ironfang marches immediately, they'll reach White Pass before Frostvein."

Another shook his head.