Page 2 of Hand-Fasting and Other Hazards
Lochlan peered around the honeysuckle bush, taking in the scene before him. The equinox celebration was in full swing—joyful music swelled through the crisp evening air, lively banter carried from clusters of supernaturals, some clothed, some decidedly not, and the bonfire roared, painting the sky in hues of orange and violet. Tables sat a safe distance from the flames, crowded with dishes and half-finished drinks, giving people a place to eat and rest between dances. Despite the revelry surrounding him, Lochlan would rather have been home with his dog, Jade, tackling the set of old diaries he was restoring. Though, if he was being honest, that felt lonely. No offense to Jade.
Historically, Mabon was a time for gratitude: a celebration of the harvest and preparation for the coming winter. Witches had come a long way from thatched roofs and no plumbing, but the spirit of the season remained unchanged. So, he’d celebrate, make his rounds and head home.
Lochlan scanned the crowd, searching for anyone he could tolerate small talk with, when the flicker of deep red hair caught his eye. A sudden, senseless ache filled his chest as he recognized the woman it belonged to.
Nia, the Duchess of Charity, stood in the shadows on the far side of the bonfire.
Lochlan had never officially met Nia, though he’d seen her often. As the only archivist in the area with a knack for repairing books, he frequently helped the Stella Rune bookshop, New Chapter, restore old volumes, and the shop was located in the same building as her offices.
Nia was stunning, driven, and always in motion. What Lochlan—and everyone else—admired most was the way she inspired people to care. To donate when they could. To show up. She fought for housing access, food equity, and the kind of rights most people didn’t even know were being stripped away. Nia stood for everything he struggled to believe in: hope, connection, belonging.
Maybe that was why he couldn’t bring himself to walk past her office without stopping.
Now, in the fading light, her hair caught the fire’s glow, and her presence pulled at something in him he couldn’t name.
Nia turned.
As their eyes met, Lochlan felt an inexplicable familiarity, as if some thread of connection had existed between them long before this moment. He didn’t know if it was fate, magic, or his imagination. He only knew he wanted more than this quiet glance. It was a need that unsettled him more than the thought of approaching a stranger.
He stepped out from behind the honeysuckle, his focus entirely on Nia, and walked straight into naked Nancy.
“Lochlan!” Nancy looked delighted as she grabbed his arms to steady herself. “I thought that was you in the parking lot. I haven’t seen you since that cauldron explosion in the staff bathroom. How have you been?”
He kept his gaze above her chin but the blur of so much skin haunted his periphery.
“Erm,” he choked on his words before he could form a greeting.
“My, I cannot believe you are here. Listen, I have this nephew, and I know you haven’t seen anyone in a while, right? I could set up a coffee date. Just casual.”
“Well…”
“Janet!” Nancy waved at someone and Lochlan looked for his escape as three naked women surrounded him. “Look who’s here. Our prince!”
“Lochlan, I can’t remember the last time I saw you,” said Janet, who also worked in Magical Resources. Unlike Nancy, who handled community outreach, Janet was in charge of keeping the town’s long-term glamours stable. “Susan, didn’t you say your granddaughter just graduated summa cum luna or whatever it was. She’s single.”
Since Lochlan was looking anywhere but at the woman who’d just joined them, he didn’t know if it was Susan from accounting, or Susan from the tourism department.
He prayed to the goddess for mercy and a way out of this conversation before it turned into a matchmaking catastrophe.
Just then, a tray of spiced mead passed by, heading away from him and the cluster of unclothed women.
“It was good to see you,” he said, seizing the opportunity to escape, “please excuse me while I grab a drink before the dancing starts.”
“The dancing has already started!” they complained in unison, but Lochlan was already slipping through the crowd, focused on the man bringing drinks to another group. After he placed his order, he found a table with mostly clothed supernaturals.
Lochlan had nothing against nakedness at celebrations—or in general. It was more that he didn’t know where to look, how to react, or how to avoid making a misstep. When he’d left home at eighteen and traveled to Stella Rune from Dover, he had been thrust into witch life and hadn’t found steady ground in the eight years since.
Nia crept into his thoughts, slipping past the guard of his better judgment.
She made it look easy, as if she’d always known who she was. Like she didn’t have to try. He scanned the gathering, but she was nowhere to be seen. The ache that had spread through him, the glint of something new—something he hadn’t felt before—faded to a dull longing.
His drink arrived, a welcome distraction. He’d let himself finish it and then he could leave the chaotic field and put the night behind him. Or at least pretend to. He doubted anything would make him forget Nia.
The way she made something in him stir.
The way she made him want.
At least his boss would be satisfied; tomorrow, he’d scribble a brief note, seal it, and send it off with the next available messenger cat to confirm he’d attended, had his drink, and fulfilled expectations.
