"What...?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "What did you do?"
"I dealt with them," he said, turning to her and offering her his hand. "They were being mean to my Wifey."
She took his hand, her own trembling so much she could barely stand. "You... you killed them?"
He didn't respond. Instead, he reached down to cup her face in his hands. "I was late. You called. I'm sorry, Wifey." He said. His voice was still deeper, but it was laced with a sincerity she had never heard from him before.
She just stared at him. "Merwyn..."
"I'm sorry," he repeated, leaning in and pressing his forehead against hers. "I was busy. And I didn't want to come. But you called. So I came. I will always come when you call."
It was a promise. A vow. She could feel the truth of it in the very air around them, a binding contract that was stronger than any magic she had ever encountered.
