Chapter 17 The Crossroads #2
"A plan."
The answer arrived without hesitation.
Eira blinked.
"A plan."
"Yes."
"You assume I have one."
"No."
The reply was immediate.
"I assume you don't."
That irritated her even more.
"Then why ask?"
A faint smile appeared.
"To confirm it."
Eira stopped walking.
Leander continued another few steps before noticing, then stopped as well.
The wind carried the scent of cold water from somewhere beyond the hills.
For several moments neither spoke.
Finally Eira folded her arms.
"I left Ironfang weeks ago."
"Yes."
"I crossed half the west."
"Yes."
"I had wolves chasing me through forests."
"I gathered as much."
"And somehow you're disappointed because I haven't planned the next six months of my life?"
The smile returned, larger this time, not mocking but almost approving.
"That," he said, "is the first sensible thing you've said all morning."
Eira stared at him.
Leander sighed, and for the first time since the conversation began, some of the amusement faded from his expression.
"Listen carefully."
The shift in his tone was subtle, but it was enough to make her pay attention.
"You escaped."
The statement carried no judgment, only fact.
"You survived the journey."
Another fact.
"You reached your sister."
A third.
Then he looked directly at her.
"And now what?"
The question settled between them, simple and unavoidable.
Eira opened her mouth, but nothing came out because she didn't know.
The realization felt unpleasant, not because he had exposed it, but because it was true.
Leander studied her for a moment, then nodded as though he had expected exactly that answer, or lack of one.
"You cannot stay here."
The words struck harder than they should have.
Eira's expression hardened immediately.
Leander raised a hand.
"Not because Maelin doesn't want you here."
She remained silent.
"She does."
For the first time, his gaze shifted toward the estate behind them, toward the house and the life inside it.
"Aldric would let you stay as well."
The wind tugged briefly at his coat.
"But Maelin has children."
His voice remained calm.
"Another child on the way."
Eira's anger faded, if only slightly.
Leander continued.
"This house can shelter you."
His gaze returned to hers.
"It cannot become the center of a conflict between Ironfang and Frostvein."
Silence followed.
The statement felt impossible to argue with because it was true, and because somewhere deep down, she had already known it.
Leander watched the realization settle, and then, unexpectedly, his expression softened, not by much, but just enough.
"You need time."
Eira said nothing.
"So does everyone else."
The wind carried the scent of sagewood from somewhere nearby.
For a moment neither moved.
Then Leander began walking again, and for the first time since their conversation had started, Eira found herself wondering whether he had already decided what came next.
They continued walking as the path gradually climbed higher, carrying them away from the estate and toward a ridge overlooking the valley below.
From there, Eira could see far beyond Aldric's lands.
The river wound through the countryside like a silver ribbon, wide enough to carry barges and trade vessels during warmer months, and even now, despite winter's grip, movement remained visible throughout the valley.
A wagon train crawled along the distant road while workers moved between warehouses near the riverbanks, and smoke rose from chimneys scattered across the countryside.
Nothing stood still.
The sight surprised her because Ironfang had always felt permanent and immovable, as though the mountains themselves had decided where people belonged.
This place felt different—alive, changing, and growing in ways she could almost see.
Leander stopped beside the wooden railing overlooking the valley.
For a while, neither spoke before he finally nodded toward the road below.
"What do you see?"
Eira followed his gaze.
"Trade."
"Mm."
"Travelers."
Another nod followed.
"Wagons."
Leander rested his forearms against the railing.
"Most people think rulers spend their days making decisions."
Eira glanced toward him.
"And they don't?"
"Not really."
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"Mostly we spend them dealing with consequences."
The answer sounded almost disappointing, yet somehow she suspected it was true.
His gaze remained fixed on the valley below as the wind stirred his coat.
"Every decision becomes someone else's problem eventually, and every problem becomes mine."
Eira studied him.
"You make that sound exhausting."
"It is."
The answer came far too quickly, and for the first time, she laughed.
Leander sighed dramatically.
"See? Nobody believes me."
A brief silence followed before his expression grew thoughtful.
"Right now, you're a consequence."
The words landed strangely, not cruel or insulting, but merely honest.
Eira raised an eyebrow.
"That's a charming thing to say."
"I didn't say you were a problem."
"No?"
"No."
Leander looked toward her.
"A consequence."
The distinction clearly mattered to him.
Eira folded her arms.
"I'm not sure it sounds any better."
"That's unfortunate."
The answer was entirely unhelpful, which she suspected was intentional.
His attention returned to the valley.
"Your father won't ignore this."
"No."
"Soren won't ignore it either."
The mention of his name carried none of the tension she had expected, only certainty.
Leander continued.
"Aldric knows that."
The river glimmered below.
"So does Maelin."
Eira's expression tightened.
Neither statement surprised her because both were true.
Leander remained quiet for a moment before adding, "And so do you."
The words settled heavily between them.
For once, she didn't argue because she had known it from the beginning, and every day spent here had simply made it easier to pretend otherwise.
Leander straightened and finally looked directly at her.
"You need time."
The statement sounded familiar now.
"I heard that part."
"I know."
His expression remained calm.
"The problem is that this house cannot give it to you."
The wind carried the scent of sagewood and cold water across the ridge as Eira looked away toward the valley, the roads, and the life continuing beyond her problems.
When Leander spoke again, his voice was quieter.
"Come west with me."
For a moment she thought she had misheard and turned her head sharply toward him.
"What?"
"My home is three days from here."
The statement arrived as though he were discussing the weather.
"You'll be safe there."
Eira stared at him.
"Safe from my father?"
"Probably."
"That's reassuring."
"It wasn't intended to be."
Of course it wasn't.
Leander continued.
"Safe from politics."
That finally caught her attention.
A corner of his mouth lifted.
"Mostly."
She narrowed her eyes.
"Mostly?"
"I'm trying to be honest."
"You're failing."
"Possibly."
The infuriating thing was that he didn't seem remotely concerned by that possibility.
For a moment, neither spoke before Eira asked the obvious question.
"Why?"
Leander's answer came immediately, without sounding rehearsed or dramatic.
"Because while you're on my land, you're my responsibility."
The wind moved between them.
No grand speech followed, nor any attempt to persuade her or argue his case; there was only a simple statement of fact, as though, in his mind, that explanation was entirely sufficient.
Perhaps it was.
Eira looked away first, toward the distant road disappearing west, toward lands she had never seen, and toward another future she had never imagined.
"I'll think about it."
Leander nodded once, neither triumphant nor relieved, but simply satisfied.
"As long as you actually do."
For reasons she couldn't explain, she suspected that answer had been exactly what he wanted.
Leander left shortly afterward, not with any dramatic farewell or final observation designed to linger in her thoughts, but simply after glancing toward the valley one last time and turning back toward the estate.
"I have work to do."
The statement sounded almost absurd after the conversation they had just shared.
Eira watched him walk away before calling after him.
"That's it?"
Leander looked over his shoulder.
"What were you expecting?"
She opened her mouth as though she intended to answer, then closed it again when no response came to mind.
A brief smile appeared on his face.
"Exactly."
With that, he continued down the path and disappeared from view.
Eira remained where she was, gazing out over the valley that stretched endlessly below. Wagons moved along distant roads, smoke drifted lazily from chimneys, and life continued without the slightest concern for fathers, alphas, politics, or her place within any of it.
She stood there alone for several minutes before finally turning and making her way back toward the house.
The familiar warmth greeted her as soon as she stepped inside. Voices drifted from somewhere deeper within the estate, and the smell of baking bread lingered pleasantly in the air.
For a moment she wasn't sure where she intended to go, but the decision was made for her when she found Maelin in the nursery.
Sunlight spilled through the windows while Lyra sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by carved wooden animals that appeared to be engaged in some sort of territorial dispute.
Finn sat nearby with a book open in his lap, and after looking up long enough to acknowledge Eira with a brief nod, he returned immediately to his reading.
The efficiency of the greeting suggested years of practice.
Maelin looked up from the small shirt she had been mending, and something in her expression changed at once.
She knew.
Of course she knew.
Lyra, meanwhile, noticed neither of them.
"Mother."
"Mhm?"
"The wolf refuses to share the mountain."
"How disappointing."
"I know."
Eira almost smiled, and Maelin noticed even that.
A few minutes later, after convincing Lyra that diplomacy remained an option and reminding Finn that books occasionally benefited from daylight, Maelin joined Eira in the corridor outside.