They didn't speak about the kiss the next morning.
Kael woke first. He was already up when the first blue light of dawn filtered into the cave. Lyra stirred moments later, wrapped in the blanket he'd draped around her during the night. Her lips still tingled, her skin still buzzed. The bond wasn't quiet—it hummed like a live wire.
But Kael?
He kept his back to her as he packed their things.
She watched him for a moment, silent, bracing.
"Morning," she said softly.
He nodded. "We need to move. That Wraith Gate won't stay closed for long."
Not a word about what had happened between them. Not a glance. Not even the teasing sarcasm he usually used to dodge intimacy.
It stung more than she expected.
They traveled in silence through the burnt-glass valley just beyond the cliffs. The black sand crunched beneath their boots. The sky overhead rippled with faint magic storms, the remnants of a battle fought long ago.
But inside Lyra?
A newer battle raged.
She stole glances at Kael when she thought he wouldn't notice.
He was walking ahead. Focused. Controlled. Silent.
She wanted to shout at him.
Or maybe kiss him again.
Or maybe both.
"About last night," she began.
Kael stopped walking. Didn't turn around.
"Don't," he said. "Please."
She flinched.
"I thought we stopped lying," she said quietly.
"I thought we could afford to," he muttered. "But we can't. Not yet."
Now he turned to face her, eyes storm-dark.
"I want to," he admitted. "Gods, Lyra, I want all of it. But if I lose myself in you, I stop thinking. I stop protecting. And right now, I need to protect you more than I need to touch you."
Her breath caught.
"I didn't ask you to protect me from yourself," she whispered.
"No," he said. "But I have to."
He looked away first.
And when he walked again, she didn't follow right away.
That night, they made camp in the hollowed ribs of a fallen beast—an ancient bone-creature left over from the Great Starfall. The ribs formed natural arches overhead, a cathedral of death and memory.
Lyra lay curled on her side, facing the fire.
Kael sat with his back to her, sharpening his blade.
The silence wasn't companionable now.
It was full of everything they weren't saying.
Finally, she broke it.
"If I kissed you again," she asked the fire, "would you stop me?"
Kael froze.
"No," he said. "But I wouldn't let it mean what we want it to."
She turned her head. "What do we want it to mean?"
He didn't answer.
Because they both knew.
And it was too dangerous to say aloud.