“It’s my duty to inform you, Lady Kryze, that we don’t have the medical supplies to spare for anyone to be pulling damn fool stunts like yours today.”

           Despite his dour words, Fenn Rau tore open a bacta patch and applied it to the blaster burn on her upper arm.

           “You mean saving your life?” she retorted.

           “I’d die for Mandalore.  I’d die for you,” he told her intensely.

           “And I’d prefer that you didn’t,” she shot back, “if possible. A simple thank you would suffice.”

           “What kind of Protector lets his Regent take blaster fire for him?”

           “The kind of Protector who understands that his Regent will do as she damn well pleases? And I didn’t actually intend for it to hit either of us.”

           He sighed sharply, leaning down to kiss her shoulder, his coppery stubble rough against her skin.

           “That’s better.”

           “Don’t do that to me again,” he scolded.

           “No promises.”