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His mouth curved. “Again.”

They trained until Kesta's shirt clung damply between her shoulder blades and her forearms began to ache. Dreven never pretended she could overpower him. Instead, he showed her where Kharovian balance failed when the tail was forced aside, how to use a horn as leverage without trying to break it, and which vulnerable points remained available even beneath armor. When she made mistakes, he corrected them.

When she caught him cleanly, he acknowledged it without congratulating her like a child. Kesta liked that. She liked even more that he seemed to enjoy being challenged. When they finished, Dreven selected a shorter camp knife from the weapons rack, checked its edge, then offered it to her hilt-first.

“You should carry one.”

Kesta took it. “I was planning to.”

“Excellent. We have achieved agreement without casualties.”

“Give it time.”

His smile returned. The spectators gradually wandered away, disappointed that nobody had bled. Kesta slipped the sheathed knife through her belt and realized Dreven was still looking at her.

“What?”

“You learn quickly.”

“So do you.”

Something in her voice altered his expression. The humor remained around his mouth, but his eyes became more serious as he stepped closer, stopping well outside touching distance.

“What have I learned?”

“That helping me become harder to protect may work better than trying to remove every danger.”

His tail moved once behind him. “I have not abandoned removing danger.”

“I didn't expect a miracle.”

A low laugh escaped him. Kesta found herself looking at his mouth. This time, when Dreven's gaze dropped to hers, neither of them pretended it had been accidental.

The attraction had been there since the basin, inconvenient and persistent. Everything around it had changed. She knew how he treated frightened children. She knew he could listen in the infirmary when someone else knew more than he did. She knew he was stubborn, proud, occasionally infuriating, and capable of admitting she was right without somehow becoming less himself. Dreven drew a slow breath.

“Kesta.”

The way he said her name was a question. She stepped closer. His hand rose beside her face and stopped before touching her. His eyes searched hers, the humor gone now.

“May I?”

“Yes.”

His fingers settled against her cheek with a gentleness that did not match their size. Kesta slid one hand up the front of his armor and kissed him. For one suspended second Dreven did not move, as though he needed to be certain she had really chosen this. Then his mouth covered hers, warm and careful at first. When Kesta leaned closer, his other hand came to her waist, holding her without pulling her into him. The edge of one fang brushed her lower lip.

A small sound escaped her. Dreven's fingers tightened reflexively at her waist before he deliberately eased his grip again.

Kesta smiled against his mouth. “You think too much.”

“So do you.”

“Not at the moment.”

That finally broke enough of his restraint to deepen the kiss. Heat moved through her, sudden and wonderfully uncomplicated. Then the band around her wrist warmed. Dreven drew back. Both of them looked down. The copper symbols glowed faintly before fading again. Kesta raised her eyes to his.

“I still wanted to kiss you.”

Something almost fierce entered his expression. “Yes.”