Page 101 of Hand-Fasting and Other Hazards
Lochlan
Yes. But don’t let Jade eat too many hush puppies. I miss you, love.
Her face warmed.
Whatever she’d been about to do was lost to the flush of pleasure and comfort that washed over her with Lochlan’s love.
Drift was the kind of quiet that carried charm. Heating spells kept the ocean wind at bay, and the place smelled like salt and coastal comfort food.
Nia hadn’t been here often. Its proximity to the Videt made it inconvenient—too easy to run into Wulfric.
As if thinking his name had summoned the darkness, her father rounded the corner, flanked by two guards and a fae man she didn’t recognize.
“Pyronia,” he said, sounding almost pleased.
“Well,” Nia muttered, “there goes my appetite.”
Wulfric smiled and glanced over her companions. “Hello. I’ve never met your friends before.”
“Probably,” Nia said, “because I wasn’t allowed to have any.”
Her father ignored this, of course, and extended a hand to Becket, who took it without hesitation.
“It’s an honor, sir. I’m Becket—but you already knew that.”
“My apologies for the intrusion,” Wulfric said. “I needed to ensure my daughter remained married.”
“Of course,” Becket replied. Then the witch actually bowed.
Nia rolled her eyes.
Wulfric turned to Ivy, who was openly glaring at the most powerful supernatural alive.
“You must be Ivy,” he said, smiling. “The other half of Charis and a brilliant witch.”
Ivy crossed her arms. Jade growled low from under the table.
Wulfric withdrew his hand, unfazed. “I shall leave you to enjoy your afternoon.”
Nia stared after her father, the weight of his presence lingering long after he’d gone.
Once, she’d loved him fiercely. She used to race into his study, shadow magic curling around her fingertips, eager to show off the newest trick she’d mastered. He would lift her into a spin and tell her she was perfect, how he loved to see her mother’s legacy live and burn through her.
He had hired the best tutors. Bought every charm and ward the experts recommended. She was the perfect witch to wield such a gift, and he’d made sure she knew it. Magic didn’t always pass from parent to child: it could come from any ancestor. But her mother’s power had chosen her.
“You know,” Ivy said, “your dad’s kind of hot.”
Nia groaned. “Ivvyyy.”
“What?” Ivy grinned. “I can dislike the man and still think he’s nice to look at.”
“Why do you dislike him?” Becket asked.
Ivy lifted her piña colada and took a sip. “One, because he was a horrible dad.”
Nia sighed.
“And two,” Ivy continued, “he denied my application to Videt Hall.”
