The first time you laid eyes on Auren, he wasn’t the kind of husband you had imagined. He looked too delicate for the world you knew, too soft for the fire you carried. You had expected someone who could meet your blaze with one of his own.

You were told the marriage would strengthen the alliance between clans. No one asked what you thought of it.

That was five months ago.

Now, at the edge of the training field, with sweat clinging to your brow after a long session of archery, you saw him.

Conversations quieted as he crossed the field, eyes tracking him like arrows, a few warriors exchanged knowing glances. One leaned in, murmured something that drew low, rough laughter from the others.

You heard it, so did he.

His cheeks flushed, but he didn’t stop. If anything, he clutched the basket tighter, as if it could shield him from their gaze. When he reached you, he hesitated for a breath.

“I thought you might be hungry,” he said quietly. He lifted the lid to reveal simple, careful offerings.

“It’s not much,” he added, “but I wanted you to have something warm.”