Candy knew this was coming. Mrs. Prim and Sergeant Strapforth had been watching her closely the past two weeks, and now they had finally come to their grand conclusion: They needed to evaluate Candy’s public obedience. It had been suggested before, and they were finally moving on it.

  "We simply must confirm," Mrs. Prim had said primly, "that the lessons learned in private remain steadfast in public." Candy had gaped at her.

  "I’ve had a public spanking before," she snapped. "Do you really need to see it twice?"

  "Yes." Candy had never wanted to punch an old woman more in her life. But the worst part? Marcus had no way out. If he refused, his authority as a husband would be called into question. And in Paddlewick, a husband without authority was a husband at risk of losing his wife to “proper” care.

  Candy had been furious. "Find a way to stop this," she told Marcus, dead serious.

  Marcus hesitated, then squared his shoulders. He leaned in, voice low but firm.

  "You just don’t give them any material," he said. "Stay perfect. Stay polite. I’ll get you out of this."

  Candy blinked, startled.

  "You promise?"

  "I promise," Marcus said, and for once, there was no doubt in his voice. He was rarely this sure of anything. This led Candy to believe him.

  They made their way to the town square where Mrs. Prim and Sergeant Strapforth had arranged a full public inspection.

  Candy was handed a shopping list: practical goods - eggs, thread, flour, and told she was expected to perform errands across the open marketpce. With everyone watching.

  Marcus walked a few paces behind her, silent, hands folded neatly behind his back. He wasn’t giving her orders.

  He was giving her space to succeed. Candy took a deep breath and stepped forward.

  First stop: The Baker’s Stall.

  "Good morning, Master Benwick," she said politely, curtsying just low enough to be proper.

  The baker, already primed by the crowd, nodded approvingly as she requested two loaves with the correct phrasing, exact payment, and a bright, practiced smile.

  Next: The Weaver’s Tent.

  "Good day, Mistress Thindle," Candy said with another perfectly acceptable dip of her knees. "I would like three spools of thread, if you please." No sass. No attitude. The weaver’s eyebrows rose in pleasant surprise. Candy accepted her purchase with both hands and walked on.

  At the Florist’s Cart, when an old woman accidentally bumped her elbow, Candy did not snap. She simply smiled and stepped aside.

  "Excuse me, madam," she said, sweet as syrup.

  And so it went.

  Candy completed every item on the list with mechanical precision. She addressed everyone properly. She curtseyed where required. She spoke with careful, respectful diction.

  The entire market watched. Mrs. Prim watched. Sergeant Strapforth watched. And Marcus? Marcus watched it all quietly, his mouth twitching at the corners. Finally, Candy returned to the square, hands full of purchases, posture correct, breathing even.

  The enchanted obedience crystals pinned to her bodice shimmered, maybe not brilliantly, but firmly and well within parameters. Marcus stepped up beside her as Mrs. Prim and the sergeant consulted their clipboard.

  Mrs. Prim sniffed disapprovingly. "The crystals could be brighter."

  Marcus immediately spoke up, calm and deliberate.

  "They are stable and positive. Within all legal thresholds."

  Sergeant Strapforth scowled. "It is recommended that a corrective dispy follow inspections. Public reinforcement fosters long-term compliance."

  Marcus raised an eyebrow.

  "Recommended," he repeated. "Not required."

  Another hush fell over the crowd. Marcus stepped forward, voice carrying across the square:

  "I have reviewed the Domestic Obedience Statutes carefully. Specifically, Section 4, Cuse 12, of the Marital Conduct and Correction Act of 437 states a recommendation is not an obligation. My wife has had no infractions. No slights. No viotions."

  Sergeant Strapforth’s jaw tightened. "The obedience crystals are not ideal."

  "But they are legal," Marcus countered immediately. "Unless you wish to argue that a mere recommendation overrides written w?"

  There was a long pause.

  A dangerous pause.

  The crowd murmured.

  Mrs. Prim opened her mouth, but Sergeant Strapforth, stiff and rigid, beat her to it.

  "No one is suggesting the w be broken."

  "Good," Marcus said, dipping his head respectfully. "Because my wife has fulfilled all inspection requirements. And I decline the recommendation."

  Another stunned ripple went through the gathered onlookers. Mrs. Prim’s lips thinned into a pale line. Sergeant Strapforth’s knuckles whitened on his clipboard. But they could do nothing. Because Marcus had followed the w. And in Paddlewick, w was life.

  A New Kind of AttentionAs Candy and Marcus turned to leave the square, a small group of women hurried up to them.

  One, a nervous little thing with butter-blond curls, blurted, "I’ve never seen a husband stand his ground like that for a wife before."

  Candy stared at them like they’d grown extra heads.

  For weeks, she had been a prisoner. A show pony. A subject of whispered pity.

  Now they were looking at her like she was… something else.

  A hero. Or at least, someone worth admiring. It was deeply unsettling. She cleared her throat awkwardly. "Uh... thanks?"

  The women beamed at her and slipped away, whispering excitedly behind their gloved hands.

  They both suddenly became aware of the ongoing murmurs of the crowd behind them:

  "Knowing when not to spank is a sign of a measured man," someone said approvingly.

  "I never thought I’d see a husband argue against a spanking... and win," whispered an older matron, dabbing at her forehead with a kerchief.

  "He cited the statutes," a merchant muttered to his neighbor." That’s proper husbandry, that is."

  A dapper gentleman far behind them nodded sagely. "Discipline without cruelty. The mark of leadership."

  Marcus was starting to look smug. He leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear.

  "Told you," he murmured.

  Candy scowled up at him, the instinct as natural as breathing. But her scowl was weaker than usual. And maybe here was a tiny, reluctant smirk trying to escape.

  Marcus’s mouth twitched. He definitely saw it. He wisely said nothing.

  Instead, he just smiled a little too innocently and turned to walk ahead. Candy narrowed her eyes. And with a tiny, almost affectionate huff, she kicked his ankle, just hard enough to make him stumble.

  He caught himself with a chuckle, throwing a look over his shoulder that said well deserved. Candy straightened her skirts primly and marched ahead like nothing had happened. But inside? Maybe, just maybe…

  Her heart was walking a little lighter, too.