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“Nothing visible. The camps will still recognize my protection. The imperial system may not.”

“May?”

“We do not fully understand its architecture.”

“So removing it could alert them.”

“Yes.”

“And you are telling me before deciding.”

“Yes.”

She breathed in slowly. This was what she had demanded: not safety, but ownership of the risk.

“Not tonight,” she said. “We need the band intact until we understand why the Hallow marker reacted to it.”

Dreven’s head lifted. “You choose to keep it?”

“For now.”

Saying the words herself steadied her breathing. A gust drove dust through the observation slit. Kesta shivered. Dreven reached for the thermal cloak at his shoulders, then stopped.

“May I?”

She nodded. He draped the cloak around both of them without pulling her closer. The heat trapped beneath it built quickly. Kesta became aware of his thigh against hers, the hard line of his shoulder, the careful angle of his horns.

“Does touching them hurt?” she asked.

“My horns?”

“Yes.”

“Not usually.”

“Usually?”

“The base is sensitive.”

The answer roughened his voice. Kesta lifted her hand, then waited. Dreven went very still.

“May I?” she asked.

His eyes darkened until the silver narrowed to a ring. “Yes.” Her palm met the outer curve of his left horn. Smooth. Warmer than she expected. The surface carried fine ridges beneath the polish, each one a record of growth. When her fingers slid toward the groove near the base, Dreven inhaled sharply. Kesta stopped.

“Too much?”

“No.” The word sounded dragged from somewhere deep. “Not pain.”

His tail curled across the floor and wrapped once around his own ankle, restraining itself. Attraction moved through her with sudden, undeniable force. Gratitude, fear, and the artificial heat of the claim device had nothing to do with it. She wanted him. Kesta lowered her hand before wanting became permission she had not yet decided to give. Dreven did not pursue the touch.

“Thank you,” he said.

“For stopping?”

“For asking.”

The storm weakened near dawn. When they emerged, Ash Camp’s signal fires glowed through the thinning dust. Dreven walked beside Kesta rather than ahead of her. At the first ridge, a metallic shape detached from the clouds. Small. Black. Silent. It turned once in the air.