Page 311 of Salt Between the Wolves

"I want to know that when you leave a room, I will see you return to it."

Something tightened unexpectedly in her chest.

He crossed the room and stopped beside the hearth, putting distance between them again, as though the honesty he had already offered was difficult enough.

For several moments he watched the flames.

"And beyond that..."

The words faltered. Not completely, but just enough for her to notice.

A man who could address armies without hesitation had reached the edge of something he did not know how to say.

Eira waited.

Soren's eyes remained on the fire.

"When I met you, I thought you were another problem."

"I remember."

"You were stubborn."

"I still am."

"Yes."

For the first time that evening, something warmer entered his expression before fading again.

"I spent months telling myself that every decision I made was for Ironfang."

Eira said nothing.

"Most of them were."

The unspoken truth lingered between them—that not all of them had been.

Soren looked down at his hands. The same hands that had held power for years, challenged Vargan, and carried her from White Pass.

When he spoke again, the words came more slowly.

"I want you to have the choice neither of us had."

Eira frowned slightly.

"What do you mean?"

His gaze lifted.

"If you choose Frostvein, I will take you there."

"If you choose Silverwake, I will make certain no one follows you."

"If you choose neither... then neither."

The familiar certainty returned to his voice—not because the answer was easy, but because once a choice belonged to someone else, Soren knew how to protect it.

"And what if I stay?"