Page 120 of Hand-Fasting and Other Hazards
Nia slipped on her heels, then hesitated. “Would you want to go with me?”
Lochlan opened his mouth to respond, but his thoughts immediately went to the diary waiting in his office. The final piece. He was so close to finishing, to coming clean, to finally giving Nia everything.
Her face fell, just a fraction, but enough to make his chest tighten.
“I have that new project that got dropped off,” he said quickly, forcing the words out. “And I need to get started. It’s… important.”
Nia blinked, nodding too fast. “Oh, okay.”
She turned back to the mirror, her movements hurried as she straightened her blouse and grabbed her bag. The smile she gave him as she leaned in for a quick kiss didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Before he could think of anything else to say, anything that might make it better, she was gone.
As the sound of the door closing behind her echoed through the house, regret twisted in Lochlan’s chest. He hadn’t just been avoiding telling Nia the truth. He’d lied to her, hurt her, hidden what was her right to know.
He told himself he would make it right.
Just as soon as the last diary was done.
CHAPTER 39
Nia
“THE SWORD—LEADER, PROTECTOR, ZADDY.” —A PAGANS BLOG
The old manor stood at the edge of Stella Rune, nestled on twenty acres of rolling land. Thick woods framed the property, giving it an air of seclusion. For a building so old, it was in remarkable condition: the stone walls stood tall and sturdy, their surface dappled with ivy that climbed toward the roof like an offering to the sky.
Nia ran her hand along the banister of the grand staircase, its wood polished and warm beneath her touch. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, casting golden patterns across the floor. Everything about the manor felt like it was waiting—for life, for purpose.
“This place is gorgeous,” Ivy said, stepping out of a side room with a wide grin. “It’s perfect.”
Nia’s throat tightened as she looked around, her vision blurring slightly. She felt a wave of emotion rise, unbidden but welcome. “Yeah,” she said, her voice catching. “It is.”
It would be nothing like the house she grew up in. That hollow, empty manor with too much space and not enough warmth. This place—their place—would be filled with laughter, with people, with life.
Near the doorway, Rue watched with quiet amusement, her keen eyes flicking between them. The woman was short and curvy; she looked like a ridiculously sexy nymph with mocha-colored hair. But she wasn’t a woodland creature that lured lovers. She came from a long lineage of fae, a bloodline as old as Stella Rune itself. Most people wouldn’t see her pointed ears or the wild eyes that, in the afternoon light, appeared more purple than blue. They’d see whatever glamour Rue chose to wear, the illusion of smooth, human features. But Nia was a witch. Fae magic couldn’t fool her so easily.
“What will you do with it?” Rue asked, curious.
Ivy’s grin widened. “Everything.”
Rue laughed, the sound rich and full.
Nia knew the manor was a piece of Rue’s past she was sloughing off, something left to her that she’d never asked for. Nia could relate. Inherited titles, roles, expectations—they had a way of weighing you down until you had to decide: live for them, or live for yourself.
Rue had made her choice.
What would Nia choose?
Everything had been good—great, even—until now. Something with Lochlan had begun to feel… off. He’d been cagey, and that wasn’t like him. When he’d locked himself in that office—an office she was now kicking herself for never searching or questioning—her stomach had twisted. Now she wondered: why was it always locked? What was he doing in there?
The thought nagged at her.
“What will we do?” Nia said, turning back to Rue, shoving her worries aside. “For starters, we’ll host an after-school program for young supernaturals—not just for those from Stella Rune, but the surrounding areas. It’s in the perfect location.”
Ivy’s expression softened. “Maybe even turn some of the rooms upstairs into safe spaces?”
The idea hung in the air, heavy but hopeful. Nia reached out to grab Ivy’s hand and give it a firm squeeze. “An orphanage of sorts?”
