Page 278 of Salt Between the Wolves

The rider spread his hands slightly.

"We don't know, because neither side allows outsiders near the negotiations."

Negotiations, not battle—not yet.

Eira stared at the map, and that was almost worse, because negotiations meant hope, and hope could fail.

The rider continued.

"There have also been incidents."

Her eyes lifted.

"What incidents?"

"Scouts crossing lines, patrols arguing, and a fight three nights ago."

The room went still.

"How many dead?"

"None."

It was a small miracle, though the rider looked unconvinced it would remain one.

"Not yet."

Silence followed, heavy and uncomfortable—the sort of silence created when everyone in a room understood the same thing at the same moment.

The situation was holding, but only barely.

Leander broke it first.

"How long can they stay there?"

The rider's expression darkened.

"Not forever."

"No."

"The weather is turning."

Eira knew what that meant: food, horses, cold, tempers, fear—a thousand small problems that would eventually become one large one.

The rider swallowed.

"People are starting to believe something."

Neither Eira nor Leander spoke.

The man looked directly at her.

"They think both sides are waiting for you."

The words landed harder than anything else he had said, not because they were true, but because they might be.

The room fell silent, and for the first time since leaving the north, Eira could no longer pretend the conflict existed somewhere beyond the horizon.