Page 14 of A Match Made in Slumber

My fingers twitched around my mug, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Anchor him? Like how, exactly?”

Sliding his glasses back down his nose, Morrigen turned a few pages in a heavy leather volume. “Physical closeness. Loads of it. That is your surest bet. Apart from brief periods during the day, I don’t think you should separate, especially at night. Darkness is the most unstable, sneaky time in terms of energy dispersion. I would recommend, um, continuing with whatever you were doing in your, er… dreams. Yes.”

A beat of stunned silence hung over the table before Settie smirked, twirling a lock of auburn hair between her fingers. “Well, I guess those market rumours about you two weren't off by that much after all.”

I didn’t dare meet Kill’em’s gaze. Instead, I sank deeper into my chair, feeling very small.

In my peripheral vision, however, I registered Kill’em giving a slow, unexpected nod. “Understood. That makes sense,” he said, his gruff voice calm and collected.

It does? Really?

Ignoring everyone’s badly suppressed amusement came as a distinct challenge, but I managed. The entire table had evidently caught on to the fact the commander didn't mind the nightly forced proximity that much. I closed my mouth on this, taking it to mean that at least I was a good lay.

"All right," Fern said, steering the conversation away from my burning cheeks. "I agree that figuring out how to transport the commander back is a problem for later. For now, we should focus on more immediate issues. Like Keălhem staying in one piece and Elian out of the dungeons. Where do we stand with this legal quagmire, Verity?"

Verity adjusted his cuffs before tapping a finger on his leather-bound notebook. "Well, let’s look at the charges one by one. As to the possession and use of an unauthorised illegal summoning charm—I might not be a criminal magic barrister, but I can guarantee I can get Elian off on that one. Given his good standing in the magical community, it's easily argued as an unpremeditated accident. He might face some tedious community service, perhaps sweeping the market square after the season ends. Or a minor fine. That’s a non-issue."

"Grand," Settie said from her spot by the pantry. "What is the issue, then?"

Verity offered her a side-eye, clearly disliking any disruption to his logical train of thought. "I am getting to it. The second charge—a planar space violation with localised destabilisation—"

"I forgot to tell you," Morrigen cut in. Verity didn't even flinch at the interlude, turning to listen to our resident scholar with complete attentiveness. Funny how he didn’t mind the interruption as long as it came from Morrigen. "I had a friend from the Society of Ethereal Weights check the afternoon readings. They aren't bad at all. The rip seems to be healing fast. Within a couple of days, there should hardly be a mark left."

"Perfect," Verity said, his shoulders lifting in a sigh of relief. "In that case, public endangerment won't stick. We can downplay it based on a lack of physical evidence. No worries about that, either."

"Why do I feel a massive ‘but’ looming?" I mumbled.

Verity leaned back in his chair, his expression flattening. "The most grave charge is the cross-dimensional kidnapping of a high-ranking military dignitary. This part is tough—I won't sugarcoat it. It carries a mandatory five-year imprisonment sentence for Elian and an indefinite quarantine for Keălhem. You would be permanently separated, which, according to Morrigen, could prove disastrous."

I hated to be right. “Fuck,” I whined.

Verity held up a calming hand. “However, I've spent the last couple of hours doing some thorough reading. I believe I’ve found a loophole.”

"Brilliant," Fern said, clapping his hands together. "What is it?"

Verity traced his finger along a passage in a hefty tome with a crumbling cover, reading aloud. "Subsection 17-C, the Doctrine of Union Restoration. 'In the event of an Unsanctioned Dimensional Displacement or a Tier-One Inter-Planar Summoning of a sentient being—whether by magical mishap, ritualistic error or a catastrophic lapse in judgment—the summoning party shall be exempt from the penalty of incarceration, provided that…' All right, skip that bit, that doesn't apply… Ah, here we go. 'Provided that the parties involved enter into a Binding Contract of Matrimony within two days of the unauthorised arrival.'"

Another stunned pause fell over the kitchen. Verity went on, likely assuming the silence meant we hadn't caught his drift. "The Doctrine recognises marriage as a corrective measure. The kidnapping charge is struck from the record, as the law deems a spouse cannot be a stolen asset or a hostage. It also grants the commander instant permanent residence in Everend. No paperwork needed."

“Goddess. We’re going to have a wedding,” Settie said, practically spinning around the place. “What on earth am I going to wear?”

Kill’em made a choking sound. Reaching blindly across the clutter for his mug of mead, he grabbed my snow-syrup tea instead. He took a long gulp before I could stop him.

“Pfeh!” He spat, coughing as suspicion replaced his spluttering. “What is this? Poison?”

“It’s tea.” I felt a little defensive about my beverage preferences. “What? Don’t you like sweet drinks?”

"I don’t mind sweet," Kill’em grunted, staring at the mug with absolute horror. “But this tastes like an attack by a weaponised sugar cane.”

“Commander Keălhem is already sweet enough.” Settie chuckled.

"Settyna," I muttered in warning, snapping my mug out of Kill'em's massive grip. "Alchemists burn… burn through huge amounts of physical energy to channel magic. I happen to be prone to severe sugar cravings as a result. It’s like… medicine."

Kill’em stared blankly at me, then down at his empty palm.

“Right, never mind the tea,” Fern interrupted, knocking on the table to claim our attention. “Going back to the contract of matrimony—”

“I can have one drawn up in a flash,” Verity offered, a small smile playing on his lips. “A piece of cake. Provided both parties are in agreement, of course?”