Page 26 of Severe Husband Warning

A noncommittal grunt is all the acknowledgement he offers before turning another page of the slate. His eyes narrow. Without ceremony, he presses the crystal into my hands and taps a thick finger against the lower margin.

“You remembered the figures,” he points out. “Forgot the mark.”

My gaze drops to the authorization rune left blank. Irritation flickers through me. The missing signature changes nothing about the conduit's performance, but Court rarely distinguishes between oversight and incompetence.

“A clerical oversight,” I reply, handing the slate back.

Ignis snorts softly as he accepts it.

“Stormlight doesn't care whose hand slips. It either holds—” his thumb drifts once more across the metal beside him before he looks back at me— “or it doesn't.”

“The authorization will reach the palace before sunset.”

That answer appears to satisfy him. He resumes his inspection without another word, raising a small brass tuning fork above the conduit. Its low hum changes faintly as he follows the current beneath the floor, listening with the concentration of a musician searching for a single note out of place.

When the final notation is entered onto the slate, Ignis closes it with a quiet snap. He stays where he is, palm resting lightly against the nearest conduit, then his thumb circles once over the metal before he gives a single, satisfied nod.

“She’ll hold.”

He gathers his instruments into a worn leather satchel before turning toward the stair leading back to the upper floors.

“I’ll send the report to the palace tonight,” he says as we climb together. “See that missing authorization arrives before I do.”

“It will.”

Together, we leave the conduit chamber behind, climbing the narrow spiral stair carved through the center of the spire. The sharp tang of ozone fades with every level until polished stone and lamp oil replace it.

An attendant reaches the study ahead of us and pulls open the heavy door just as we step into the corridor. Before I cross the threshold, movement farther down the corridor catches my eye.

Calla is walking toward us.

Her pace slows when she notices Ignis beside me. Her fingers briefly find the simple iron ring hanging from the cord around her neck, then slip away again and continues toward us. Whatever business has brought her here, she must have already decided it cannot wait.

Ignis follows my gaze. Without asking a question, he steps aside and holds the study door open with one broad hand.

Calla offers him a polite bow as she steps into the study.

He returns the courtesy with a brief inclination of his head before continuing down the corridor, already reading through his inspection notes as though the entire palace has ceased to exist.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Calla says once we are alone.

“You’ve already waited,” I reply curtly and gesture toward the chair opposite my desk. “What is it?”

Her eyes flick toward the seat before returning to me.

“I’d rather stand.”

There is no challenge in the refusal. The urgency beneath her composure suggests whatever brought her here matters more than the discourtesy of remaining on her feet, and that alone is enough to stir my curiosity.

“Commander Vhoros informed me you were visiting the human district today.”

She nods once, absently rubbing her thumb across the iron ring resting against her collarbone.

“I spoke with an old neighbor of mine. Theron,” she starts, and I wait for recognition to strike, but nothing comes. She seems to recognize that immediately.

“He looks after many of the older families where I grew up,” she explains. “He stopped me in the market because another household disappeared.”

The concern beneath her steady voice is difficult to miss.