Ivy glanced toward Adrian.
“He hasn’t looked directly at you in eight minutes.”
“He’s working.”
“He has read the same permit twice.”
Clara looked.
Adrian turned the page too quickly.
Ivy smiled.
“Oh, this is delicious.”
“Go sell flowers.”
“I am selling flowers.”
“You are in my shop.”
“My flowers are emotionally independent.”
Clara pushed her toward the door.
At three, the problem arrived.
A department messenger delivered a black envelope.
Adrian opened it.
His face changed immediately.
Clara knew it was bad.
“What?”
He folded the letter.
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
“It concerns my employment.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing yet.”
She held out her hand.
“Give it.”
“No.”
“Adrian.”
“Clara.”
“Marriage privileges.”
“There are no document theft privileges.”
She snatched it anyway.
He could have stopped her.
He didn’t.
The letter stated that because Adrian had become magically bonded to a license holder under active audit, the Department’s Ethics Council was reviewing whether he should be removed from the case.
And possibly suspended.
Clara’s stomach dropped.
“This is because of me.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“The incident was accidental.”
“Your job is at risk.”
“It will be resolved.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
She stared at the paper.
“What happens if they remove you?”
“A new auditor completes the inspection.”
“And your certification?”
“Pending review.”
Clara felt sick.
Adrian reached for the letter.
She didn’t release it.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It isn’t your responsibility.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t care.”
The words escaped too fast.
Adrian froze.
Clara froze too.
The golden thread brightened.
Neither looked at it.
Finally Adrian said quietly, “I know.”
That night, Clara couldn’t sleep.
She went downstairs.
The shop was dark except for moonlight through the windows.
Adrian sat behind the counter.
She stopped.
“You too?”
He looked up.
“Apparently.”
She made tea.
No magic.
No singing kettle.
No talking cups.
Just tea.
She handed him one.
He accepted.
They sat in silence.
After a while Clara asked, “Did you always want to be an auditor?”
Adrian looked into his cup.
“No.”
“What did you want?”
He hesitated.
“To build things.”
“Build what?”
“Magical homes.”
Clara blinked.
“Really?”
He nodded.
“Protective architecture. Enchanted structures. Houses that adapt to the people living inside them.”
Clara smiled.
“That sounds nothing like auditing.”
“My grandmother disagreed.”
There it was.
Helena Vale.
Clara leaned against the counter.
“She wanted you in government.”
“She believed the family had obligations.”
“And your parents?”
“My father supported whatever kept peace.”
“Your mother?”
“She left when I was twelve.”
Clara’s smile faded.
“I’m sorry.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“That doesn’t automatically make things harmless.”
He looked at her.
She knew something in her face gave her away.
“What?”
“My mother died five years ago.”
“I know.”
Clara blinked.
“How?”
“Business records.”
“Of course.”
He lowered his cup.
“I’m sorry.”
She nodded.
“She loved this shop.”
“So do you.”
Clara looked around.
“Yes.”
“Then save it.”
She laughed softly.
“I’m trying.”
“No.”
His voice changed.
Gentler.
“Stop assuming chaos means failure.”
Clara stared at him.
He continued.
“You’re careless with paperwork.”
“Romantic.”
“You improvise too much.”
“Keep going.”
“You enchant things that absolutely do not need enchantment.”
“The oven has personality.”
“The oven is invasive.”
She smiled.
Adrian did too.
“But people love this place,” he said. “They trust you. They come here because it feels alive.”
Clara swallowed.
“You noticed.”
“I notice everything.”
She looked at him.
“Yes. You do.”
The space between them changed.
He stood.
She did too.
No magical music.
No glowing candles.
No apartment interference.
Just them.
Adrian stepped closer.
“Clara.”
“Yes?”
“I’m going to kiss you.”
She smiled slightly.
“That sounds like an audit declaration.”
“I’m trying to avoid ambiguity.”
“I appreciate compliance.”
He touched her face.
And kissed her.
It was not magical.
Which somehow made it more magical.
No sparks.
No floating furniture.
No bells.
Just warmth.
Careful at first.
Then not.
Clara’s fingers curled into his shirt.
Adrian’s hand moved to her waist.
The golden thread wrapped softly around both wrists.
When they finally separated, Clara was breathing too quickly.
Adrian rested his forehead against hers.
“That was a bad idea.”
“Probably.”
“We’re dissolving the bond in three days.”
“I know.”
He looked at her.
“Do you regret it?”
Clara kissed him again.
“No.”
Day Five became impossible.
They woke up not touching.
Then discovered they had fallen asleep on the couch together.
Clara’s head rested on Adrian’s chest.
His arm was around her.
Biscuit sat three feet away.
Watching.
“Good morning,” he said.
Clara closed her eyes.
“No.”
“I saw everything.”
“You are going outside.”
“Worth it.”
Adrian laughed into her hair.
Clara felt the sound against her cheek.
Dangerous.
Very dangerous.
They went downstairs.
The shop opened.
Life continued.
Except now Adrian sometimes touched the small of Clara’s back when passing behind her.
Clara handed him tea without asking how he took it.
He repaired the loose cabinet hinge upstairs.
She enchanted his audit pen to insult him whenever he wrote too long.
He pretended to hate it.
The pen called him “bureaucratic prince.”
He kept it.
At noon, a letter arrived.
The Ethics Council had decided.
Adrian read it twice.
Clara watched.
“What?”
“I’m being transferred.”
Her stomach dropped.
“Where?”
“Capital office.”
“When?”
“After the bond review.”
“That’s three days.”
“Yes.”
Silence.
Clara looked away.
“This is because of the marriage?”
“Partly.”