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Kesta approached slowly enough that he heard her.

He did not turn.

“Nethra told me Avarra was your sister.”

His shoulders tightened.

For a moment Kesta thought he would tell her Nethra had no right.

Instead he asked, “What else did she tell you?”

“That she was better at disobeying you.”

Dreven let out a breath that might almost have been amusement.

“That part is accurate.”

Kesta moved beside him, leaving enough space that neither had to pretend the distance was accidental.

“What was she like?”

Dreven looked down into the fissure.

The red light caught the underside of his horns.

“Loud.”

Kesta smiled faintly.

“She sang,” he added.

The coincidence made Kesta look at him.

Dreven’s mouth moved at one corner. “Badly. Before battles, usually. She believed frightened soldiers were less frightened if they were irritated with her.”

“Did it work?”

“Frequently.”

For several seconds, grief and humor lived together in his face.

Kesta had not seen him look that unguarded before.

“What happened to her?”

The openness vanished, though not completely.

“Not tonight.”

Kesta nodded.

“All right.”

Dreven finally looked at her.

“You are not going to demand the answer?”

“I’m trying something new.”