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He was crouching in the magical items alcove to dig through the chests of spell books he’d told her he didn’t want her going through.

She could see he attempted to go through them slowly at first since he had a few piles of neatly stacked books, but it was obvious his impatience took over because he’d started tossing them in anger.

When she came to take a closer look, she could see one chest was empty and the other only had a handful of books left. He grabbed one of the few remaining and flicked through it quickly.

“What are you looking for?” she asked, knowing he placed the book on the ground because she was in the way when he was done checking it.

“There is a spell book I wanted, but I am unable to find it,” he answered when he reached in to grab one of the last two.

With an irritated huff, he eventually threw that one to the side. Then he grabbed the last one, took one look at the cover, and immediately knew it wasn’t the one he wanted.

“What kind of book?”

She looked at the sea of them around her feet.

“It has white magic in it.” He started moving the books around on the floor to see the front covers as though to double check he hadn’t missed it. He gave another rolling growl through clenched teeth. “I do not know what the spell is called!”

Nibbling her bottom lip, Amalia eventually told him to wait there before running back to her room. She pulled a handful of her books off the shelf and reached behind them to grab the one she’d hidden.

He might be mad.She’d kept this from him after all.

When she returned, he was still going through the books on the floor, tossing them back inside the chests when he knew it wasn’t the one he wanted. His nose was crinkled tight in frustration, and she figured he was a hair-trigger away from losing it like he often did.

“Is it this one?” She held the book with both hands in offer to him.

With a huff, he took it. He went through it quickly as if he expected it not to be it. Then he slowed before stopping at a page.

“Yes, it is this one.” He began flicking through it slowly. “Did I miss it?”

His eyes wandered over the books on the ground.

“Uh, no. I kind of found it in your collection and never told you that I did.”

She tried to give him an innocent smile when he narrowed his eyes at her.

Instead of reacting, he became engrossed in it, turning page after page. Finally, he stopped and placed it on the bench and shoved his hand against the open pages.

“This, I want to do this.” He gestured to a particular page. “I am not good with witchcraft spells. There are often special nuances your kind learn that are different from mine. I can only recreate concoctions. I want your help in doing this.”

Once again, he gestured to the page by tapping it impatiently. She stepped forward to look at the spell.

“Rurik...” she gasped, turning to face him with a frown. “It is a handfasting spell.”

“Yes, I know what it is. I just do not know how to do it.”

“But this is a binding ritual that Witches use to bond with the person they love.”

Her parents had done it, and both had the marks it created to prove it.

“So? You bear my mark. I shall have yours.”

She picked up the book to inspect it closer before she put it back down.

“But you would be permanently marked with witchcraft with this.”

She didn’t think he would ever be on board with the idea.

He gave an irritated huff, gesturing to the spell again with his hand. “I love you. You love me. It makes sense I should have your mark.”