Chapter 13 Sisters
Eira
The rider reached the base of the hill and slowed, and for a moment neither of them moved.
The distance between them had narrowed enough for Eira to distinguish details now—the dark cloak, the pale braid resting over one shoulder, and the careful way the woman guided her horse across the uneven ground.
Then the rider dismounted, moving slowly and with more care than Eira remembered.
Only then did she notice the slight curve beneath the cloak and the way one hand briefly settled against her side before she began climbing.
Eira stared as the realization arrived a heartbeat later.
Her sister was pregnant.
The thought struck with unexpected force. They had been apart for years, and somehow Eira had never imagined this version of her sister—not as a wife, not as a mother, and certainly not carrying another child.
Maelin climbed the final stretch of the hill alone.
The wind tugged at her cloak as she approached the ruins, and for one terrible moment Eira found herself wondering whether she would recognize her at all.
The answer came immediately, because of course she would.
Time had changed her. Age had softened some features and sharpened others, and the girl Eira remembered had become a woman. Fine lines touched the corners of her eyes, and her face carried a maturity that hadn't been there before.
Yet none of it mattered.
She still looked like Maelin, she still moved like Maelin, and somehow that made the years between them feel both impossibly long and painfully short.
Eira took a step forward.
Maelin did not. Instead, she stopped just inside the ruins and turned, letting her gaze sweep across the surrounding hills, the road below, the tree line, and the slope behind the tower as she checked every direction and every possible approach to make certain they were alone.
Only when she seemed satisfied did she finally look at Eira.
The sight stole the breath from Eira's lungs, not because of how much her sister had changed, but because of the expression on her face.
Relief, fear, and disbelief were all tangled together there.
For several seconds neither spoke, and the silence felt strangely fragile, as though either of them might break it the wrong way.
Maelin's eyes moved over her slowly, taking in the travel-worn cloak, the bruises that remained visible despite the passing days, the exhaustion, the thinner face, and the longer hair—every sign of the road and every sign of what it had cost to reach this place.
Eira realized she was doing exactly the same thing, studying, comparing, and searching for familiar pieces inside someone who felt almost like a stranger.
The years between them seemed to hang in the air.
Finally, Maelin let out a shaky breath.
"You cut your hair."
The words were so absurdly ordinary that Eira almost laughed, though instead her throat tightened.
"You noticed that?"
"I noticed everything."
The answer came immediately, exactly the way it would have years ago.
Something inside Eira cracked, though not painfully—almost gently.
Maelin smiled, and suddenly she looked less like a noblewoman, less like a wife and mother, and more like the sister Eira remembered: the sister who used to sneak sweets into her room, who used to cover for her when she wandered where she wasn't supposed to, and who had always stood between her and the world whenever she could.
"Eira."
Her name sounded different in Maelin's voice—softer and full of years that had passed too quickly.
Eira crossed the remaining distance before she could stop herself, and Maelin met her halfway.
The embrace nearly undid her.
For one impossible moment neither of them spoke as they simply held on.
The cold wind continued moving through the ruins around them, but Eira barely felt it. All she felt was the familiar warmth of another person—family, the first she had touched in years.
When they finally stepped apart, Maelin immediately reached for her face as though needing to confirm she was real.
"You look terrible."
A startled laugh escaped Eira.
"There she is."
"There who is?"
"My sister."
The corners of Maelin's eyes brightened with tears.
"You disappear for years, arrive out of nowhere looking half-frozen, and that's the first thing you say?"
"It was either that or cry."
"That would have been my choice."
"It usually is."
Maelin swatted her arm lightly, and the gesture was so familiar that Eira almost forgot to breathe.
For a few precious moments, it felt as though nothing had changed at all.
Then Maelin's gaze dropped to the satchel, to the horse waiting below, and finally to the road.
Eira watched the warmth slowly fade from her expression as concern took its place, followed by worry and then something very close to fear.
The questions had arrived, and both of them knew it.
The wind had begun to pick up again, though it was not strong enough to drive them from the ruins and only persistent enough that Maelin eventually glanced toward the broken walls and gestured toward the shelter they still provided.
"Come."
They moved deeper into the remains of the tower, where the fallen stone offered some protection from the cold.
Maelin lowered herself onto a section of collapsed masonry with obvious relief, one hand unconsciously settling against the curve of her stomach as she adjusted her cloak.
The gesture caught Eira's attention again, reminding her of the years that had passed, the children Maelin had raised, and the child still on the way. An entire life had unfolded while they remained separated by mountains and distance.
For a moment neither spoke, and the silence no longer felt uncomfortable but merely strange, like something neither of them quite knew how to bridge.
Eventually Maelin smiled.
"I wasn't sure you'd actually come."
Eira raised an eyebrow.
"You sent the letter."
"That doesn't mean I expected you to be foolish enough to answer it."
The familiar dryness of the remark made Eira laugh, and it was a genuine laugh, the first in what felt like months. The sound surprised both of them, and Maelin's smile softened immediately.
"There you are."
Eira looked away as the laughter faded almost as quickly as it had come.
"You make it sound as though I've disappeared."
"Haven't you?"
The question was light, but the look accompanying it was not.
For a moment Eira found herself studying the snow beyond the ruined wall because she wasn't ready for that conversation yet. Fortunately, Maelin allowed the silence to pass.
"How long were you on the road?"
"Just over a week."
The answer came easily.
"Alone?"
"Mostly."
That earned her a look.
"Mostly?"
"There was a horse."
Maelin rolled her eyes.
"Good. At least some things haven't changed."
The warmth returned briefly before fading once more, and Eira saw it happen as Maelin's gaze drifted toward the mare waiting below the hill, then toward the travel satchel, the road, and all the details that didn't belong together.
Her sister had always been observant, and the passing years clearly hadn't changed that.
"You came a long way for someone simply visiting family."
The words were mild, though the meaning beneath them was not.
Eira remained quiet while Maelin waited, and when no explanation came, she continued.
"Your letter said almost nothing."
"It wasn't safe to write more."
That answer only deepened the concern in her sister's eyes.
"No," Maelin agreed quietly. "I suppose it wasn't."
The wind rattled through the broken stones above them, and neither woman spoke for several moments before Maelin finally asked the question she had clearly been holding back.
"Does Soren Ironfang know you're here?"
The name settled heavily between them.
Eira's gaze dropped, and that was answer enough.
The silence stretched, and when she finally looked up again, Maelin had gone very still. She wasn't shocked, at least not yet; instead, she seemed to be thinking, calculating, and trying to understand.
"Does he know where you are?"
Eira shook her head slowly.
The concern in Maelin's face deepened.
"And did you tell him you were leaving?"
Another silence served as another answer.
The realization arrived visibly this time, and Eira watched it unfold as her sister began assembling pieces she didn't yet possess: the marriage, the road, the lack of escort, the secrecy, and the unanswered questions.
One by one they fell into place until the shape beneath them became impossible to ignore.
Maelin leaned back slightly.
Her expression had changed completely now. The warmth remained, and so did the relief, but fear had joined them—real fear, not for herself but for what all of this meant.
"You didn't run away from Frostvein."
The words emerged slowly and carefully, sounding more like an observation than a question.
Eira said nothing.
"You ran from Ironfang."
The silence that followed felt louder than any answer.
Far below, the mare shifted and shook snow from her mane, and the sound seemed unnaturally distant.
Maelin stared at her, and for a long moment neither of them moved. Then her sister lowered her eyes and exhaled slowly, the breath trembling ever so slightly. When she looked back up, something very close to disbelief lingered there.
"Eira..."
The name sounded different this time, heavier than before.
"What have you done?"
There was no accusation in the question, no anger, only dread, because whatever answer followed, Maelin already understood one thing: nothing about this situation was small.
Whatever had driven Eira across half the continent alone had been serious enough to leave behind a husband, a pack, and an entire life.
The realization settled between them like a gathering storm, and neither sister seemed eager to be the first to step into it.
The silence that followed felt different from the ones before, lacking the uncertainty and fragility that had marked their earlier conversations. Something had settled between them, and for the first time since arriving at the tower, Maelin knew exactly where Eira stood.