Page 141 of Hand-Fasting and Other Hazards
The air between them felt charged as he pulled her to him.
“Ahem.” Wulfric cleared his throat, breaking the moment. Nia and Lochlan turned to find him standing stiffly, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His stern expression faltered slightly as his gaze flicked between them. He sighed. “Well…”
But before he could say more, a frazzled-looking witch stormed into the coop, a smattering of chickens flapping wildly as they fled from her path. Leather pouches hung from her utility belt, vials and crystals jingling with every step. Her hands settled on her hips as she eyed the room with suspicion, her dark gaze landing on each of them in turn.
Aurelia Shade.
The Eraser Witch of Stella Rune.
Wulfric stiffened, his expression wary. “Aurelia.” He tilted his head in acknowledgment.
“Wulfric,” she grumbled. “Do I have you to blame for yet another infringement?”
Wulfric’s jaw tightened, but his tone was respectful. “No… ma’am,” he said to the witch who was half his age, clearing his throat awkwardly. Nia wasn’t sure she’d ever seen her father look deferential before.
She bit back a laugh and turned to Lochlan, taking his hand and tugging him toward the exit, leaving Wulfric and his team to deal with Aurelia.
The air outside was cool and crisp, the country sky glittering with stars that seemed impossibly close. The chaos of the coop faded behind them, replaced by the soft murmur of witches and soldiers dressed in dark tactical gear milling about. Nia inhaled deeply, the fresh air filling her lungs as she tilted her face up to the sky and leaned against Lochlan’s chest.
“Take me home, husband,” she murmured, soft and sure.
Lochlan smiled down at her, his hand cupping the back of her head as he bent to kiss her, his words a quiet promise: “Yes, wife.”
Epilogue: Lochlan
TWO WEEKS LATER
“TWO HEROIC PRINCES—HOW WILL WE RECOVER?” —PRINCES&PIES444
Lochlan set the baking dish on the counter, the rich scent of melted cheese and herbs filling the kitchen. He wiped his hands on a towel and reached for two wine glasses just as Malrik’s voice rang out through his phone, propped against a bowl full of Halloween candy.
“So then I said, ‘That’s not a regulation formation, it’s a?—’”
“Malrik,” Thane groaned from the other side of the screen, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Lochlan smirked, half-listening as he poured the wine, the familiar cadence of Thane and Malrik’s banter washing over him. Before he could sit, Jade’s ears perked up. A second later, she leapt off the couch, nails clacking against the hardwood as she bolted toward the front door.
Nia.
Lochlan grabbed the glasses, turning just in time to see her sweep in, cheeks flushed from the cold, energy radiating off her in waves. She leaned into him, her lips pressing a quick, warm kiss to his before she plucked the glass from his hand and turned to the phone. “Hey, Thaney.”
Thane groaned again, and Lochlan stifled a laugh as his brother dragged a hand over his face. “Not you, too.”
Malrik, for once, had fallen silent, which told Lochlan just how tense the situation in the palace had become. Thane had been pivotal in saving Nia, but he’d missed a major meeting with Dover’s leadership to do so. He’d spent the last two weeks trying to make up for it, with Lochlan even putting in an appearance at the palace himself—this time with Nia at his side.
The brunch had been tense, a polite battleground where Thane debated members of the opposition while other leaders floated their own ideas, careful not to commit too fully to either side. Later, Lochlan and Nia had toured Dover’s autumn festival with Thane, shaking hands and fielding cautious questions. Quietly, Nia had also reached out to Dover’s hidden supernatural networks, trying to get a clearer picture of what they were up against. Magic lived deep in the shadows there, and they’d hoped to discover who was hiding and what could be done.
It hadn’t mattered.
The Dover Coalition, who’d already controlled much of the government’s power, had seized the opportunity to claim the rest, and had finally succeeded in passing resolutions that stripped the monarchy of its remaining power over the military, and both foreign and domestic affairs.
Lochlan exhaled, leaning against the counter. “What’s the latest offer from the leadership of the esteemed DC?”
Thane snorted, grabbing a glass of amber liquid. “Oh, you’ll love this. The monarchy is symbolically dissolved, but we still get to keep our titles—for tradition’s sake.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “We’re still princes, just without the pesky ruling part. Instead, we’re expected to smile, wave, and be paraded around like show ponies at important events.”
Lochlan’s grip on his glass tightened. What did this mean for Wulfric and his plans? He’d bring him up to speed tonight.
“And Lavinia?” Lochlan asked.
