They danced like this for a while, Ostus merely enjoying being near Kiara. It was strange how comforting silence could be so long as it was shared with someone that did not find it uncomfortable. He closed his eyes, wanting to focus on the feel of Kiara's body beneath his hands, the tickle of her breath against his shoulder, the salty sent of her hair. Would their paths have ever crossed if she wasn't a princess? Would they get along better if they were on more equal terms? For someone that hated him, she certainly was getting quite cuddly, but he didn't care.

That was one thing he couldn't understand. Was he falling in love with her? How could that be when they fought half the time and didn't talk to each other the rest of the time? Perhaps he was merely in love with dancing with her. He had never known love before, felt himself the type that would never settle down, yet he hated the idea of leaving Kiara tomorrow. What if her husband-to-be treated her like shit? What if she came to hate her new life? He needed to be there, to protect her, to give her a shoulder to cry on or a body to dance with, just like this...

He brought a hand up to cup the side of her face, dipping his head down to rest his forehead against hers. He had the sudden desire to kiss her. It was wrong, against the contract, but if he should never see her again, he at least wanted to know the sensation of her lips against his...

... yet he knew if he kissed her, it would be his undoing. He would never be able to leave her, and if he did, it would tear him up inside. It was that reason alone that gave him pause, that opened his eyes, that made him exhale. "I'm sorry," he whispered, slowly sliding his hand away. "I keep doing this, I keep crossing lines with you." He shook his head, took a few steps back, then began to walk towards the tent without another word.