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He covers my hand with his. “Better than good.”

The answer moves through me low and deep.

I slide my fingers slowly across the hard line of his chest, testing the control deliberately. The hunger follows the motion with unmistakable awareness, but it no longer lunges for more. It curls toward me like flame bending toward heat it trusts.

Corin exhales through his nose. “You know exactly what you’re doing.”

“Yes.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“I was informed I’m a dangerous woman.”

“You were informed correctly.”

We look at each other for a long moment while the ward posts hum quietly around us and evening rain begins tapping against the leaves overhead.

Balanced.

That is what the bond feels like now.

Not strained into stability.

Not forced into restraint.

Balanced.

The realization shows in his face too. I see it in the way his shoulders loosen under my hands, in the absence of fear hiding behind desire, in the way he lets me touch him without bracing for catastrophe afterward.

My throat tightens unexpectedly.

Corin notices immediately. “Hey.”

I shake my head once. “I’m fine.”

“You’re emotional.”

“I signed the final wardship dissolution today.”

Understanding moves through his expression with painful gentleness.

“Come here,” he murmurs.

I already am.

He kisses me slowly at first, one hand sliding to the back of my neck while the other settles against my waist. The warmth under his skin answers instantly, rich and controlled, wrapping through the bond without a trace of the old violent instability. I kiss him harder because I can feel the steadiness holding beneath the heat, and because I have spent too many years surviving to pretend I do not want joy when it finally stands in front of me.

Corin makes a rough sound low in his throat.

“That,” he says against my mouth, “felt very intentional.”

“It was.”

“You’re going to ruin my concentration.”

“You’re finished training.”

“I could start new training.”