Chapter 27 The Difference #2
"The first time you saw him."
Eira considered the question, and the answer came far more easily than she expected.
"Dangerous."
Leander nodded once.
"As expected."
"Arrogant."
Another nod followed.
"Unreasonable."
A faint smile appeared.
"Now you're being generous."
Despite herself, Eira laughed, and the sound surprised both of them because it had been a while since either had heard it.
The smile faded.
"So why are we talking about him?"
For the first time that morning, Leander's expression grew serious. This was the conversation he had been approaching all along, while everything before it had merely been a path leading here.
"I want you to understand something."
The wind tugged at his soft dark-blond hair while his gaze remained fixed on the cliffs ahead.
"I am not going to tell you to return to him."
Eira blinked because that was not the answer she had expected.
Leander continued.
"I am not going to tell you what choice to make."
The horses continued along the narrow path while waves shattered against the black rock below.
"You left Ironfang for reasons that belong to you, and those reasons matter."
Eira felt herself relax slightly, only then realizing how tense she had been. Leander noticed that too.
"But."
There it was, the inevitable word she had been waiting for.
His eyes finally shifted toward her.
"Whatever decision you make next, it should be based on truth."
The wind carried the words away for a moment before they returned.
"Not fear."
He paused briefly.
"Not anger."
The cliffs curved ahead, and through the thinning fog something began to emerge in the distance: a tall, weathered tower standing alone against the sea.
Eira recognized it immediately.
The old lighthouse visible from Silverwake's harbor.
For several moments she simply stared at it. The structure looked ancient, older than many castles, as though it had stood watching the sea long before the city itself had ever existed.
Leander followed her gaze.
"We're almost there."
"What does a lighthouse have to do with answers?"
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, though it never became a full smile.
"Very little."
Eira frowned because that was not reassuring in the slightest.
The path widened as they approached the tower, leaving them surrounded by little more than stone, wind, and sea.
Leander dismounted first and then looked up toward the weathered structure rising above them. For a moment he seemed unexpectedly thoughtful, almost reluctant.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than before.
"You told me that you're tired of people making decisions for you."
Eira climbed down from her horse.
"Yes."
Leander nodded slowly.
"Then perhaps we should begin with a man who spent most of his life making every decision alone."
The words lingered between them while the wind swept across the cliff and waves crashed against stone far below.
Eira looked from the lighthouse to Leander, and understanding began to dawn on her.
"What do you know about Soren before Ironfang?" Leander asked.
The question settled heavily in the space between them, and suddenly Eira realized that this was not going to be a conversation about politics, war, or even the marks—not yet.
It was going to be about the man she thought she understood, and about the possibility that she didn't.
For a moment neither of them moved as the lighthouse rose above them, ancient and weathered, untouched by the passing of generations.
Leander rested one hand against the stone wall, whose surface had been worn smooth by decades of salt and wind, before turning toward the entrance.
Eira followed him.
The heavy wooden door groaned softly as it opened, revealing a narrow spiral staircase that wound upward through the tower, where stone, wood, and shadow blended together in the dim light.
Beyond the walls, the sea could still be heard, its steady rhythm a constant presence.
Neither of them spoke during the first several turns of the staircase, and the silence felt deliberate, as though Leander was searching for the right place to begin.
Eventually he said,
"The first time I met Soren, he was sixteen."
Eira glanced up in surprise. That was not where she had expected the story to begin.
Leander noticed the shift in her expression and smiled faintly.
"It surprises people."
"What does?"
"That he was ever sixteen."
Despite herself, Eira smiled back. The image was strangely difficult to imagine. Soren had always seemed like someone who had emerged from the mountains already grown, already carrying responsibility on his shoulders, as though there had never been a time when he had simply been a boy.
Leander continued climbing the narrow staircase.
"He had been in Ironfang for less than a year then."
The smile faded from Eira's face. There was something in those words that caught her attention immediately.
"You knew him that early?"
"Before most people did."
Light spilled through a narrow slit in the stone wall, briefly illuminating the staircase before disappearing again. They climbed in silence for several moments, until curiosity finally got the better of her.
"What was he like?"
Leander let out a quiet laugh, not because the answer was amusing, but because there were too many answers to choose from.
"He was exhausted, angry, proud, and entirely convinced he could solve every problem himself."
Eira lowered her gaze. The description sounded uncomfortably familiar, and Leander seemed to recognize the thought almost before it fully formed.
"You're beginning to see the problem."
The observation irritated her, largely because it was true.
"He never trusted anyone?"
Leander considered the question before slowly shaking his head.
"No. He trusted people well enough. He simply trusted himself more."
The answer settled between them with surprising weight. Somehow it explained far more about Soren than a dozen dramatic stories ever could.
The staircase narrowed slightly as they climbed higher, and wind whistled softly through gaps in the stone.
For several moments, Eira remained quiet. Then, before she could decide whether asking was wise, she said,
"You care about him."
Leander slowed just enough to glance back at her. For a brief moment, something old and genuine softened his expression.
"Yes."
There was no hesitation in the answer, no embarrassment, and no attempt to hide the truth.
"He has been my friend for a very long time."
The simplicity of the admission carried more weight than a longer explanation would have.
Leander resumed climbing.
"When people speak about Soren now, they speak about the alpha," he said, his voice echoing softly within the tower. "The war leader. The man who never bends."
He glanced toward her.
"Very few remember the young wolf who arrived in Ironfang with no claim, no title, and no reason for anyone to follow him."
A long silence followed, the kind that settles after something important has been said.
Eira stared at the worn stone beneath her feet and, for the first time, found herself wondering not what Soren had become, but what he had once been.
The staircase continued upward as stone gradually gave way to weathered wood, while the wind grew stronger with every turn they climbed.
Neither of them spoke for a while, and Eira found herself thinking about sixteen-year-old Soren. The image refused to settle properly in her mind because every version she imagined still somehow looked like the man she knew, only younger, yet just as serious, stubborn, and impossible.
A quiet laugh escaped her, prompting Leander to glance back over his shoulder.
"What?"
"I was trying to imagine him at sixteen."
"And?"
"He still looks annoyed."
To her surprise, Leander laughed, and the sound was genuine.
"That sounds accurate."
Eira smiled despite herself, and for several more steps the mood remained lighter than before.
Then she asked, "Did the two of you get along?"
Leander's expression immediately became more complicated.
"Not particularly."
The answer caught her off guard.
"What?"
"We argued constantly."
Eira blinked because, for some reason, she had expected something else.
"You and Soren?"
"Frequently," Leander replied without hesitation. "About politics, trade, alliances, and military decisions."
After a brief pause, he added, "Weather, on one memorable occasion."
Eira stared at him.
"Weather?"
"It was a very long meeting."
Despite herself, she laughed, and the sound echoed softly through the tower.
Leander's smile lingered for a moment before fading.
"The problem was that we were both young enough to believe we were right."
"You make that sound like a past condition."
"Some of us mature."
Eira rolled her eyes, and Leander ignored it.
"As strange as it may seem now, there was a time when half of my job involved convincing Soren not to charge directly at every problem he encountered."
The image was surprisingly easy to believe.
"What happened?"
"He became more patient," Leander said, then paused briefly. "Marginally."
That earned another reluctant smile from her.
As they continued climbing, Leander said, "Most people think his greatest strength is discipline."
Eira remained quiet and listened carefully because Leander rarely volunteered information, and when he did, it usually mattered.
"They're wrong."
"What is it then?"
The answer came immediately.
"Responsibility."
The word settled between them with a weight that felt both heavy and familiar.
"He has always cared, perhaps too much."
Another turn of the staircase brought another gust of wind.
Eira frowned, and Leander noticed immediately, just as he always seemed to.
"You don't agree."
"No."
The answer escaped before she could soften it.
Leander waited patiently until she finally added, "Someone who cared wouldn't have made some of the choices he made."
For a moment she thought he might argue, but instead he nodded.
"That's fair."
The response surprised her.
Leander continued before she could say anything else.
"Caring about people and understanding them are not the same thing."