HOUSEHOLD BOND RECOGNIZED.
Clara stopped breathing.
Adrian stepped forward.
The paper rotated.
Another line appeared.
LEGAL MAGICAL UNION REGISTERED.
Biscuit fell off the register laughing.
Clara looked at Adrian.
Adrian looked at Clara.
“No,” they said together.
The Department of Enchanted Commerce confirmed their marriage forty-seven minutes later.
Clara wished they hadn’t.
She and Adrian stood inside a consultation chamber on the second floor of Willowwick’s municipal magical office.
Between them sat a clerk named Harold who had the exhausted expression of a man who had seen far stranger marriages before lunch.
Harold adjusted his spectacles.
“So.”
Clara leaned forward.
“So?”
“You are married.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“We didn’t agree.”
“Magically, you did.”
Adrian spoke.
“Explain.”
Harold looked at the form.
“The domestic harmony elixir created a household compatibility field. Normally harmless.”
Clara nodded.
“Normally.”
“Unfortunately, Mr. Vale was carrying an active binding document.”
Adrian’s expression hardened.
“An audit form is not a marital contract.”
“No, but it establishes a recognized magical relationship between inspector and license holder.”
“That is administrative.”
“Magic is not famous for nuance.”
Clara raised her hand.
“I would like that sentence engraved somewhere.”
Adrian ignored her.
“How do we dissolve it?”
Harold’s mouth tightened.
“That’s where things become inconvenient.”
Clara laughed.
“Become?”
“The bond has integrated with the renewal inspection.”
Adrian stared.
Harold continued quickly.
“If dissolved incorrectly, the magical backlash could void Ms. Bellweather’s commercial license permanently.”
Clara stopped laughing.
“What?”
“And because Mr. Vale initiated the inspection, it could also invalidate his auditor certification.”
Adrian went completely still.
Harold looked apologetic.
“You need a controlled dissolution.”
“How?” Clara asked.
“There’s a mandatory compatibility review.”
Clara blinked.
“A what?”
“To determine whether the bond is genuine, unstable, fraudulent, or magically accidental.”
“It is magically accidental.”
“Yes, but the department must verify that.”
“By?”
Harold looked at the next page.
“Seven-day domestic observation period.”
Clara stared.
“No.”
Adrian said, “Absolutely not.”
Harold lifted both hands.
“I don’t write the regulations.”
“I know who did,” Clara muttered, glancing at Adrian.
His expression suggested she had just stepped onto dangerous ground.
Harold continued.
“During the seven days, the bonded parties must maintain shared residence.”
Clara’s jaw dropped.
“Shared residence?”
“Yes.”
“We met this morning.”
“I gathered.”
“We hate each other.”
Adrian looked at her.
She looked at him.
“That was too strong,” Clara admitted. “I find you professionally upsetting.”
“Thank you.”
“Not a compliment.”
Harold pushed a packet across the desk.
“You’ll also attend two compatibility evaluations.”
“No,” Adrian said.
“One shared household task.”
“No.”
“One public social appearance.”
“No.”
“And neither party may intentionally disrupt the bond.”
“No.”
Harold looked at Clara.
She shook her head.
“I’m enjoying watching him suffer.”
Adrian exhaled.
Harold leaned back.
“After seven days, an assessor can dissolve the marriage safely.”
Clara picked up the packet.
On the front, written in cheerful gold lettering:
SO MAGIC MARRIED YOU!
A Practical Guide to Unexpected Domestic Bonding.
She looked at Harold.
“You people printed brochures?”
“You’d be surprised.”
“I’m beginning to think I wouldn’t.”
Adrian took the packet from her.
“Where is the shared residence?”
Harold smiled nervously.
“The bond selects the location with strongest domestic resonance.”
Clara and Adrian both turned toward her shop across the square.
Above Bellweather Brews, Clara’s tiny apartment waited.
Clara whispered, “Absolutely not.”
The apartment had one bedroom.
One.
Clara stood in the doorway that evening, arms crossed.
Adrian stood behind her carrying one leather travel bag and looking as though he had reconsidered every decision that had brought him to Willowwick.
Biscuit sat on the kitchen table.
“The bed is comfortable.”
Clara pointed at him.
“You are not participating.”
“I live here.”
“You sleep seventeen hours a day.”
“I participate selectively.”
Adrian looked around.
Clara suddenly saw the apartment through his eyes.
It was small.
Very small.
The kitchen connected directly to the sitting room.
Books covered half the furniture.
Bundles of herbs hung near the windows.
A yellow couch leaned slightly to the left because one leg had been replaced with a stack of old spellbooks.
There were candles everywhere.
Mugs everywhere.
One chair currently contained laundry.
The apartment felt lived in.
Chaotic.
Hers.
Adrian set down his bag.
“I’ll take the couch.”
Clara blinked.
“That easy?”
“What did you expect?”
“I don’t know. Some speech about regulations requiring equal mattress allocation.”
“No.”
“That’s disappointing.”
“I can prepare one if needed.”
She almost smiled.
Almost.
“Couch is terrible.”
“I noticed.”
“You’ll wake up shaped like punctuation.”
“I’ll survive.”
Biscuit jumped down.
“The marriage guide says bonded couples should establish sleeping compatibility.”
Clara picked him up.
“You’re going downstairs.”
“This is censorship.”
She carried him toward the door.
Biscuit twisted in her arms.
“Ask him why he hasn’t dated in four years.”
Clara froze.
Adrian froze.
Clara slowly looked down at the cat.
“How do you know that?”
Biscuit smiled.
Cats should not be able to smile.
Biscuit did anyway.
“Government employees smell like loneliness.”
Clara opened the door.
“Good night.”
She dropped him gently onto the staircase landing and shut the door.
Silence.
Clara turned.
Adrian was removing his coat.
She had been unprepared for this.
Not because there was anything scandalous underneath.
Just a fitted white shirt.
Sleeves buttoned.
Dark trousers.
Very normal.
Unfortunately, without the coat, he looked less like an institution and more like a man.
A very attractive man.
This was unacceptable.
Clara walked into the kitchen.
“Tea?”
“No.”
“Coffee?”
“No.”
“Wine?”
He paused.
“Yes.”
She looked over.
“Finally, evidence of humanity.”
“I never denied being human.”
“You strongly implied it.”
She opened a cupboard.
Three wine glasses floated out.
One sang.
She caught it.
“No songs.”
The glass stopped.
Adrian watched.
“Does everything in your home have enchantments?”
“Most things.”
“Why?”
She shrugged.
“Magic gets lonely.”
He stared at her.
“That makes no sense.”
“It does if you listen.”
“I prefer objects that don’t speak.”
“Of course you do.”
She poured wine.
They sat at the tiny table.
The golden thread still connected their wrists.
It had become faint.
Almost translucent.
Clara lifted her hand.
Adrian’s moved slightly with it.
“This is deeply irritating.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“Why is that good?”
“If only I were irritated, I’d resent you.”
“You already resent me.”
“Professionally.”
“Right.”
She drank.
He did too.