Page 69 of Hand-Fasting and Other Hazards
Before Lochlan could respond, Wulfric’s voice boomed through the room, magically amplified. “My beloved supernaturals!”
A dramatic pause.
Nia’s stomach dropped.
“Tonight, we celebrate our Mother moon in her full glory! And, in honor of this blessed night, I am delighted to introduce you to my daughter.”
The lights dimmed. Nia’s fingers tightened around her glass, knuckles turning white as a hazy blue glow bloomed around her, casting her in a spotlight. She blinked rapidly, trying to process the absurdity of the moment. The glow expanded—widening to include Lochlan.
He gave her a sidelong glance. “What the fuck,” he cursed under his breath.
“And her charming husband,” Wulfric continued, his smile almost audible. He waved his hands as if summoning applause.
Two guards in sleek suits materialized, gesturing for them to step forward.
Lochlan sighed, bumping into Nia as they were ushered forward. “Do I start taking my clothes off now?”
“I don’t know if it’ll help,” she muttered as they were ushered onto the stage.
A few people whispered her name. Others openly stared. Nia’s pulse pounded in her ears as she struggled to process the moment—what to do, where to look. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but she forced herself to keep her chin high, a tight smile on her lips.
She knew these people. She’d worked beside them, helped them; now they were looking at her like she was something new, someone they didn’t know.
Her focus narrowed to Wulfric.
“You all know the Duchess of Charity,” he proclaimed, standing before the crowd, soaking up the attention like some photosynthesizing plant. “But now, I would like you to also know her as my daughter.”
The murmur of the crowd swelled, rippling outward in waves of shock and curiosity. Wulfric let it build, basking in the reaction before continuing, his voice smooth, practiced. “For years, I kept her hidden, fearing I would lose her as I lost her mother. But tonight, we no longer hide.”
Nia’s stomach twisted. No longer hide? She didn’t like the sound of that.
“She has grown into someone extraordinary, without my name, my aid, or my influence.” He turned to her. “Yet here she stands, a force in her own right. And beside her—” His eyes flicked to Lochlan. “—her husband, with deep roots in the regulars’ world.”
Lochlan cursed under his breath as understanding sank like a stone in Nia’s gut. She saw it now: the threads of his plan weaving together. This wasn’t about claiming her. It was about Wulfric using her and Lochlan for some political purpose.
The fucker.
Wulfric’s voice rang through the ballroom, his smile practically glowing with satisfaction. “The union of Pyronia Cabot and Prince Lochlan of Dover is just the beginning—a happy omen of what’s to come. But enough from me,” Wulfric declared. “Tonight is a celebration! Let us dance, let us revel, and when the Mother’s light reaches her peak, my daughter will honor her fullness by awakening the Lunaflor.”
The room murmured in approval as the lights dimmed and the music swelled. Nia barely had time to process what the hell had just happened before an elder appeared at her side. She took several steps away, eyes locked onto her father. Her blood boiled. This whole moment was orchestrated. Just like her marriage. Just like so many other aspects of her life.
“How dare you,” she hissed under her breath.
Wulfric’s expression didn’t falter. “I dare to do whatever I please, so long as it ensures a bright and prosperous future for us all, Pyronia Cabot.”
Her jaw clenched at the name given to her at birth, which she’d cut away like a rotting limb. She shoved the anger down, focusing on what mattered. “What are you after?”
Wulfric ignored the question entirely. “Elder Patrick will prepare you for the blessing of the flower.” Then, with a saccharine smile, “Would you like your doting husband by your side as you prepare?”
Internally, yes. Goddess, yes. Her mind was buzzing, her skin felt too tight, and her heart was hammering out of rhythm. He had just outed her to the entire supernatural world. Everyone would have questions—about her, about her work, about whether she’d built it all herself, or if her success had been his all along.
She’d hated being a secret. But she’d realized and accepted that severing ties from Wulfric meant cutting herself free from more than him—it meant cutting herself free from a lineage of monsters, a heritage of corruption.
Before she could form these words, Lochlan stepped in. “Nia may not want me by her side,” he said, voice steady, “though I would prefer to be with her.”
Goddess, she needed him right now. But she couldn’t let it show. “Fine.”
Wulfric gave a pleased smile—like this was all going exactly as intended—then stepped off the stage. She could hear the crowd murmuring, exclaiming, congratulating him.
