Page 23 of Severe Husband Warning

I remain outside her chambers, listening without announcing my presence.

One passage gives way to another before the music gradually slows. The final notes linger against the stone walls, carried into the storm beyond the lattice windows, until even their echoes disappear.

I should return to my own chambers.

Instead, I stand in the silence she leaves behind, my thumb resting once again on my signet ring.

I leave only when the corridor offers nothing more than the familiar quiet of my own home.

11

CALLA

Several days pass before I’m permitted to leave the spire.

By then, I’ve begun to recognize the rhythm of House Stromgarde. Servants appear before I think to ask for anything, meals arrive with impossible punctuality, and every hour has already been decided before I even wake. This place runs with a precision that leaves no room for surprise.

Today’s schedule grants me an afternoon in the human district.

Rothgar’s permission arrives through Commander Vhoros rather than the man himself.

“So I’m not allowed to go anywhere without guards?” I ask, eyeing the two soldiers waiting several paces behind him.

Commander Vhoros nods.

“You are not, milady. Lord Rothgar’s instructions were explicit. You are not to leave the spire without protection.”

I release a sigh. “I suspected as much. Thank you, Commander.”

He escorts us to the lower gates before turning back toward the spire. The two guards fall into step behind me without a word as we descend into the human district, their silence almost as noticeable as their armor.

House Stromgarde’s crest catches every eye first.

The crowd parts without being asked. Human merchants pause in the middle of their bargaining, while passing demons spare curious glances toward the soldiers at my back. Their eyes inevitably find me a moment later.

They aren’t looking at Calla Alder.

They're looking at the woman walking beneath House Stromgarde’s protection.

Relief loosens something inside me when I catch sight of Cora Bell arranging bundles of dried herbs beneath her awning.

“Calla!” Cora’s face brightens when she spots me, then her gaze flicks towards my guards. Her smile turns tentative. I return it with one of my own.

“Well,” she says as I approach, folding her arms across her apron. “You certainly know how to make an entrance now.”

I glance over my shoulder with an apologetic wince.

“I didn't have much say in the matter.”

Cora’s grimace softens into reluctant amusement.

“I thought as much.”

A quiet laugh passes between us before the guards remind us we aren't alone.

“I have the payment,” I tell her, retrieving the leather pouch from beneath my cloak. “Enough to cover Father’s medicine and supplies for several weeks.”

Cora accepts the dalers, weighing the pouch in her palm, sighing. “I’d forgotten what these feel like in such generous numbers.”