Page 274 of Salt Between the Wolves

"I want facts."

"No," he said quietly. "You want certainty."

The distinction irritated her because it was true, and she looked away again as the sea struck the harbor wall outside in a long, dull rhythm.

Leander rested one hand against the edge of the table.

"There are ways to get facts."

That pulled her attention back immediately.

"What ways?"

"I can send riders north."

The offer arrived so simply that she almost missed its significance, because Leander was not a man who involved himself in northern politics without reason.

"You would do that?"

"You are here."

As explanations went, it was frustratingly short, but it was also enough.

For a moment neither spoke, and then Eira asked how long it would take.

"Five days if they push hard."

Five days, possibly more, perhaps even a week if the weather turned against them—long enough for armies to move, for men to die, for everything to change.

The thought arrived before she could stop it: Soren would not attack first, and her father would not retreat first, because neither of them was built that way.

A muscle tightened in her jaw, and Leander noticed again.

"You already know that."

Eira did not ask how, since he had become annoyingly good at reading her.

"They'll wait," she said.

"Probably."

"Until they can't."

"Probably."

The answer settled heavily between them.

Leander studied her for several seconds before asking, "May I ask something?"

"You usually do regardless."

A corner of his mouth moved.

"Fair."

Then the amusement disappeared.

"If you learn the report is true, what will you do?"