Page 122 of Hand-Fasting and Other Hazards
Nia burst out laughing, the tension easing just slightly. “I don’t need my powers to know what lurks in your darkness.” She gave Ivy a playful wink.
Ivy shook her head. “If Lochlan is holding back—” She wrapped an arm around Nia’s shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “—I think he’ll let go of it eventually.”
Together they took in the room one more time. Nia could see it so clearly—young supernaturals running through the halls, their laughter echoing through the grand space. Tutors trained in every manner of magic guiding them, helping them flourish. The libraries they could build, the resources they could provide—it was all right here, waiting to happen.
“I don’t want you to force anyone to donate to this place,” Ivy said, her voice hesitant. “I want it to be a hundred percent free of anything… bad.”
Nia turned toward her, and for a moment, the weight of Ivy’s past seemed etched into her features, every struggle and hard-fought victory written on her face.
She remembered a night their first year at Stella College, when Ivy had finally told her the truth. Sitting on the floor, knees pulled to her chest, she’d said, “They didn’t know I was a witch. Just that I was wrong somehow.” She’d bounced through group homes, always too much, too strange, until she learned to suppress the chaos. It wasn’t until she was a teen that she even heard whispers of Stella Rune: a place where witches could be safe. Where she could be herself.
Nia reached for her hand. “We’ll make it work,” she said, “and we’ll do it on our own.”
But as the words left her lips, doubt crept in.
The idea of going it alone, in general, didn’t feel as certain as it once had. She wanted more than just independence. She wanted to be part of a team. And she and Ivy were—and had been—a fantastic team. But Nia realized she wanted that in other areas of her life, too. She wanted more. Someone more. No, not just someone.
She wanted Lochlan.
This thought tangled with the reality ahead of her: the final family dinner tonight. Another performance to prove Lochlan shouldn’t—couldn’t—be that person.
But could he?
She wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
CHAPTER 40
Nia
“FAE POLITICS - AND WHY WE ARE WORRIED.” —THE WEEKLY HEX
Nia’s motorcycle rumbled up the long and winding drive, the sound a steady, grounding hum beneath her. Wulfric’s manor loomed ahead, its tall windows catching the last light of the day. She hated the way it stood there: an imposing figure against the horizon, a shadow she could never quite outrun.
This was the last family dinner she and Lochlan were required to attend. After this, there would be one last public event and then Samhain—a supernatural gathering where Wulfric would decide whether to grant their annulment.
She had told herself she wanted that. Hadn’t she?
For so long, she’d clung to the idea of freedom. She had vowed never to be controlled again, never to let anyone else dictate her life: not her father, not a husband or wife, not anyone.
And yet…
Her fingers tightened around the handlebars. She wanted to know what she and Lochlan could be, freed from her father’s manipulations. If they chose each other, what would that look like? Could she let herself choose him?
The thought sent a warm, hopeful flush through her. But doubt immediately followed, swift and chill. Lochlan had been acting secretive. Hadn’t he? Or was she looking for problems because she wasn’t ready to admit how much she wanted this?
As Nia approached the house, she pulled her bike behind Lochlan’s green truck. The air was cool and carried the faint scent of pine and smoke—maybe they were barbecuing again. Probably, knowing her father.
Nia headed for the grand entrance, ignoring the sense of dread that crept over her as she pushed the heavy doors open without waiting for the butler. As she stepped into the foyer, voices drifted toward her from the sitting room, low and tense. She paused, her hand brushing the edge of the door frame.
“I should be the one,” Lochlan said.
“No, son. This is my plan, it has to be—” Wulfric stopped abruptly before turning smoothly toward the doorway where she stood. “Pyronia. You’re here.”
She hesitated, scanning their faces. Wulfric’s expression was unreadable, his mask perfectly intact. Lochlan looked tense, shoulders rigid and jaw tight, but her breath caught with a flicker of relief just at seeing him.
“Did I interrupt something?” Her voice was steady despite the way she could feel the rough energy in the room prickling over her skin.
“No,” Lochlan said quickly.
