Page 58 of Severe Husband Warning

A strip of silver cloth rests upon dark velvet, embroidered with the same silver thread that catches the light like distant lightning.

“We demons have an old tradition,” he says quietly. “A covenant called the Storm-Binding. It predates the Kingdom itself.”

My hand lifts before stopping just above the fabric.

“A ceremony?”

“A covenant,” he corrects gently. “Our marriage exists because the King declared it lawful. This exists beyond any king’s authority.”

I look from the silver cloth back to him.

“What makes it different?”

“The storm itself decides whether the bond is true.” His voice grows quieter. “The rite draws upon the magic shared between two people. If either heart enters it unwillingly, the bond never forms.”

Understanding washes over me. “So no one could claim I deceived you.”

“They could claim it,” he replies. “The Storm-Binding would answer them.”

No argument or evidence before the King’s court could ever carry the weight of this.

This is something infinitely more personal—a piece of his family’s history, placed in my hands without hesitation.

He isn’t asking whether I’ll help him win.

He’s asking whether I’ll choose the life we’ve begun building together.

My hand rises to his cheek, and he leans into my touch with a quiet ease that makes my chest ache.

“A shield for a season,” I say.

“I was trying very hard to sound practical,” he admits, an almost sheepish smile touching his mouth.

“I believed you needed a wife.” My thumb brushes lightly across his cheek. “But perhaps you were looking for something you hadn’t yet found the courage to ask for.”

For so long our marriage had felt borrowed, stitched together out of necessity. Somewhere between shared meals, quiet conversations, and every choice to trust instead of retreat, it became something neither of us had expected.

“So much has changed,” I whisper. “I thought I came to your gardens looking for protection. I don't think that’s what I’ve wanted all this time…”

“I know,” he says softly. “And I was not looking for a wife.”

Looking into his eyes, I realize my heart already knows the answer. All that’s left is for him to ask the question.

“If this is truly what you want,” I say, my fingers tightening around his, “then don't ask me as the woman who offered you a bargain in your gardens. Ask me as the woman you love.”

Wonder softens the careful restraint he wears so easily, giving way to a hope so open that it steals the breath from my lungs.

He turns my hand over and presses a lingering kiss against my knuckles.

“Calla Alder,” he says softly, “will you bind your life to mine? Will you stand beside me because this is the future we both choose? Because every road worth walking is one I want to walk with you?”

My answer comes without hesitation.

“Yes.”

The word has barely left my lips before he closes the last trace of distance between us.

His kiss is gentle, carrying all the unspoken truth certainty that has brought us here. My fingers slide into his hair, and when we finally part, his forehead rests against mine as we share the same breath, smiling into the silence.