Page 62 of Severe Husband Warning

His fingers are warm despite the cool air filling the sanctuary, that simple warmth steadies the restless beat of my heart more than any prayer I whispered before entering these doors.

Before us rises the ceremonial focus.

The crystal stands taller than either of us, clear as frozen rainwater, suspended within a ring of black storm-metal etched with ancient runes. As High Priestess Nyrra begins the old invocation, the carvings awaken one by one, silver light flowing through every line until the entire circle glows.

Her voice is low and resonant, carrying effortlessly through the vast temple.

“The storm remembers every vow freely given.”

As if in answer, lightning crackles outside.

Threads of pale light descend through the temple's open crown, spiraling around the crystal before disappearing into its heart. It drinks them eagerly, its center blooming with a soft golden radiance unlike any lightning I have ever seen. The warmth it casts is so gentle the air itself seems to sigh around us.

“The storm bears witness,” Nyrra continues. “Let the first heart speak.”

I lift my eyes to Rothgar.

There was a time when I thought those storm-grey eyes impossible to read. Now I recognize the patience in them, the care hidden beneath centuries of practiced restraint. I know the man who lingers outside my chamber simply to listen while I play, who learned to laugh softly when I teased him, and who looked at a frightened human musician and saw someone worth listening to.

“My lord,” I start, but the title feels too distant now. Drawing a steadying breath, I correct myself. “Rothgar Stromgarde.”

His name leaves a warmth on my tongue, and my lips curve into a smile.

“When I first came to you, I carried nothing but fear dressed as courage. I offered you a bargain because it was all I believed I possessed.”

A smile touches his mouth.

“I thought home was a place someone could lose. A little house beneath the shadow of the spires. My father’s voice. A familiar street. But I understand now…home can also be a person.”

My gaze drifts beyond Rothgar’s shoulder until I find my father seated beside Cora Bell. Color has returned to his cheeks, and though illness has left its mark, he no longer fights for every breath. He catches my eye and smiles with quiet pride. There was a time I feared he would never live to see this day. Now he sits beneath the temple’s vaulted ceiling because Rothgar made certain he would.

My fingers tighten gently around my husband’s in silent thanks before I continue.

“I found mine in your stillness.” Emotion catches in my throat. “When the world frightened me, you became the place where I could rest. Your quiet gave me the courage to keep walking.”

I hold his gaze, letting every word belong only to him despite the hundreds listening.

“I vow that wherever the storm carries us, I will meet it beside you. I will speak truth when silence would be easier. I will remind you that strength and kindness have never been enemies.”

The golden light within the crystal grows brighter.

“I will keep music in your halls when duty grows heavy. I will keep laughter in your home when sorrow lingers. And as the years change us, I will choose you again with the same willing heart that stands before you today.”

A memory surfaces from stories my father once told me, old human traditions carried across generations until no one remembered where they began.

“My heart is your hearth,” I whisper. “Where you are welcomed without asking. Where you are known without pretending. Where you are loved without condition. To you, I give myself freely.”

The temple has become impossibly still when I finish.

High Priestess Nyrra inclines her gaze toward Rothgar and says, “The storm has heard. Let the second heart answer.”

His thumb brushes once across the back of my hand before he speaks.

“Calla Alder.” He says only my name, and hearing it spoken without ceremony feels more intimate than any title ever could.

“I have lived long enough to mistake solitude for peace.” His voice is quiet, yet every syllable reaches the furthest corners of the sanctuary. “I believed duty demanded distance. That affection invited weakness. That a lord’s first responsibility was to remain untouched.”

Something inside me loosens. The composure I’ve carried into the temple begins to give way beneath the calm conviction in his voice, and I realize how desperately I’ve longed to hear words I never imagined he would speak.