Page 18 of Hand-Fasting and Other Hazards
“Pretty?” She was stunning. Strong. Resilient. Like a cosmo flower that could grow in almost any soil, or a daylily whose robust root system could hold back steep hills and stop erosion.
No, she was a zinnia.
“You’re thinking about plants, aren’t you?”
“Nia, zinnia—she’s like a zinnia flower. They’re vibrant colors, deepest red to softest pink, and they grow…” He trailed off, remembering a trip with his father, called in after a wildfire tore through a stretch of land. Amid the scorched earth, zinnias had already begun to bloom—bright red-orange flowers rising through the ash, their colors defiant against the blackened soil. He’d stood quietly, watching them sway in the breeze, struck by how something so vivid could thrive in such ruin.
“Make sure you tell her that when you’re trying to convince her to keep you.”
Lochlan blinked and stared at his friend, dumbfounded.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Becket said.
Lochlan had barely thought about keeping her for himself.
“Have you been poking around my present path?”
“Yes, between trying to get your marriage annulled and being mauled by The Sword, I pulled some cards, talked to my ancestors, and looked toward the stars to see where this little soiree is going.”
“And?”
“Dude, I’m kidding.”
Lochlan’s face fell.
“But I see you’re smitten and you haven’t started talking shit about yourself yet,” Becket continued. “You’re also comparing her to flowers. You’ve never compared me to a flower—kind of jealous, by the way—so you’re clearly not ready to give up on this. And I would probably kick you in the shin if you did.”
Lochlan rubbed his face and groaned into his palms. “How can I?”
“What?”
“Keep her.”
When he looked to his friend for answers, he found only annoyance on Becket’s face.
“I didn’t realize you were this hideous creature undeserving of love. Clearly, you can’t keep her.”
“Beck, please.”
“You’re a serious catch, and she would be stupid not to fall for you. I could seriously hurt your family for messing with your head about this stuff.”
It wasn’t Lochlan’s entire family. His mother was cold, his sister cruel, but his brother had never wronged him. Yes, Thane had been absent when Lochlan was thrust into the role of prince, but not out of malice or disdain. He’d spent every waking moment fulfilling the duty he’d been born and groomed to perform when the time came for him to become king. He served in the military and did all he could to prevent the crown from falling, dragging a stagnant monarchy into the future by fostering the type of innovation that had turned the capital into a tech hub. Thane valued tradition; he valued growth more.
But everything had crumbled just before Lochlan’s eighteenth birthday.
A year after the king died of illness, the Dover Coalition had assumed control over most of the monarchy’s authority. Thane had been left to piece together what was left of a fraying monarchy stripped of power—meeting with opposition leaders, trying to steady public opinion, anything and everything a crown prince could do to uphold his family’s honor and position. But their sister hadn’t taken the loss with the same sense of poise and duty. In a fit of rage, she’d burned down the family greenhouse where Lochlan’s father had once worked.
A phantom ache skittered across his skin, a reminder of the scars that stretched from his ankles to his knees. The burns had been terrible. But they would have been much worse if Thane hadn’t been there to pull him from the fire.
Lochlan wondered what his brother was doing now. Probably out on some secret, high-tech mission, being a badass. He didn’t know what Thane would think of his sudden marriage and temporary wife. But?—
“It’s not that,” Lochlan muttered, forcing himself back to the present. “Nia’s sworn off marriage. It wouldn’t matter if I was the most eligible person in the world.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure what happened. Something her father did. All I know is her mother died, and Nia blames it on Wulfric, and the fact that her mother was forced to marry him.”
“And then he forced her to marry you?”
