Page 41 of Hand-Fasting and Other Hazards
Or had it been about keeping her under control? She remembered a passage from her mother’s journal.
I must escape before they take me—before they claim my power and add it to their own. The Cabots have always coveted the magic in my blood. They want to control it. Shape it. Breed my magic into their bloodline so its power will pass to their heirs.
But I have no one to turn to, no one willing to help me flee. My grandfather won’t protect me.
He has sold me to save himself.
Her mother hadn’t escaped. And Nia couldn’t fathom the fear and loneliness she must have felt in the days leading up to her death. Reading those words had changed everything. She had sworn she would never end up like her mother—never marry, never let anyone dictate her fate.
Nia added the second ingredient, bleeding heart, grinding it with the aspen, its petals stretching and tearing against the rougher herb. Then came the peppermint—for pure thoughts, for promises. She had made so many promises—to herself, to her mother’s memory. Vows to be stronger, to undo the damage of the past. Yet, here she was, bound to a man she barely knew.
But not for long.
Finally, she added the honeysuckle. The sweet scent curled around her, tugging her back to that morning in the field—waking up beside him. A man nothing like what she’d feared. Lochlan was kind, gentle, attentive.
But promises were still promises.
And she wouldn’t break them, not even for him.
She thought about her freedom as she weaved a never-ending symbol around the candles with the crushed herbs, but the freedom she had always been so desperate for didn’t taste sweet. The idea of being alone became more bitter with each moment she spent with Lochlan.
As she finished her work and gazed back at him, the low light cast shadows across his features, highlighting the gentle furrow of his brow and quiet concern etched in his face.
He was worried about her.
Nia felt a pang of guilt. She’d been so focused on her own internal struggle that she hadn’t considered how all of this might affect him. Shame washed over her. He was a stranger, yes, but he was kind and cared for her in a way she hadn’t anticipated. She realized she hadn’t treated him the same way.
“Step into the circle,” Wulfric said from the altar. Lochlan and Nia complied, each taking a spot near him. “Are you both ready?”
They each nodded as Lochlan’s fingers brushed her knuckles. It brought her a small comfort amidst the dark attic and the presence of the man she despised above all else. Her father began speaking the words of the spell. With the first line, one candle lit on its own.
“Light to flame seals the deal.
Bound by truth, our hearts reveal.
Right are our actions, and we win this fight.
Prove our fate under the moon’s light.”
The air shimmered with magic, the lines on the floor pulsing in rhythm with Wulfric’s words. Lochlan began speaking the spell and the second candle lit. With each word, the power of the spell weighed more heavily on Nia’s shoulders. When he finished, she grabbed his hand, anchoring herself to him.
“Light to flame…” she hesitated, and he squeezed her hand in encouragement. “…seals the deal.” The last candle lit. “Bound by truth, our hearts reveal. Right are our actions, and we win this fight. Prove our fate under the moon’s light.”
The intricate designs on the floor pulsed brightly before dimming to a soft glow.
“By these flames, your bond is forged. May your actions prove your worth, and your fates be sealed under the moon’s watchful gaze,” her father said.
It felt like a curse. This wasn’t part of the spell, or their agreement. Fury flushed over Nia as she opened her mouth to spit an insult at him, but before she could?—
“Now, who wants burgers?”
CHAPTER 15
Nia
“AUTUMN FESTIVAL IN FULL SWING! WE HAVE YOUR ITINERARY.” —THE STELLA RUNE GAZETTE
The windows of the Charis Foundation framed the decorated square, where October had settled in fully, bringing with it the autumn festival. Garlands of dried corn husks and bright orange marigolds draped over vendor stalls, and carved pumpkins lined the walkways, their flickering candlelight dancing against the cobblestones. Through the glass, Nia could hear the bustle of people weaving through the market, the faint murmur of laughter and music drifting from outside.
