Page 88 of Hand-Fasting and Other Hazards
He thought of the day he was crowned prince. His acknowledgment—that was the phrase they had used, as if he hadn’t existed before they’d chosen to take notice. The ceremony had been held in a grand hall before diplomats and carefully selected members of the public on his fourteenth birthday. His mother had placed the crown on his head, her hands stiff, her expression formal and unreadable.
Not once had she wished him a happy birthday.
Thane had been there, at least. His older brother had returned from a mission just for him, guiding him through what to expect, telling him he’d be there the whole time. And he was—until he wasn’t. The moment the formalities had ended, he’d slipped away for another mission before the night was over.
That had left Lochlan alone in the ballroom, seated at the far end of the main table where, ironically, no one acknowledged him. No congratulations, no conversation, just the clatter of silverware and the low hum of voices speaking over or around him. His sister, Drusilla, had barely spared him a glance—until she got up to dance. As she passed, she’d bumped his chair hard enough to send his cup tipping forward, spilling juice down the stiff, uncomfortable suit he’d been forced into. Minutes later, a palace worker had leaned down to whisper in his ear. “The queen has dismissed you. I will escort you back to your room.”
Dismissed.
The rest of Lochlan’s time in the castle had been just the same. His mother never spoke to him. Thane was never there. Drusilla was always cruel.
Yet here he was, considering going back.
Becket dropped into his chair, spinning it slightly before settling in. “Spill.”
Lochlan leaned against the edge of the desk, arms crossed. “I don’t know where to start.”
Becket arched an eyebrow. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe start with how I had to hear about the catastrophe at the full moon celebration from the Stella Rune Gazette? The Gazette, Lochlan! They say you and Nia don’t seem to work—terrible match, doomed for disaster. How your bad influence is why she couldn’t do the spell.” He smirked. “Yet, here you are, strolling into my office like you just bedded a goddess.”
Lochlan had basically bedded a goddess.
The media’s take didn’t faze him—he was used to being picked apart, to them getting things wrong. Still, the idea that he’d been the reason Nia struggled with the spell sent a flicker of irritation through him.
“Nia and I have an… agreement.” He cleared his throat. “But that’s not why I’m here.”
Becket leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “The plot thickens. And I’m guessing that’s not the only thing that’s been thickening.”
Lochlan let out a reluctant chuckle, shaking his head. He exhaled, his humor fading as he met Becket’s gaze. “Thane came to visit.”
The smirk vanished from Becket’s face. He cursed softly, leaning dangerously far back in his chair, the legs creaking under his weight.
“He asked me to come home,” Lochlan said, his voice carefully even, masking the conflict swirling inside him.
Becket’s jaw tightened, his usual teasing tone taking on a harsh edge. “That place is no home.”
Becket had always been protective when it came to this topic. He’d been there during those early years of freedom, the drunken nights when Lochlan had finally let pieces of the truth slip out, the details of why he’d left, why he’d never looked back.
“Maybe things have changed,” he said quietly, though the words felt hollow. “It’s been eight years.”
Becket didn’t say anything. Lochlan could feel the weight of his gaze, but looked away. His own thoughts were enough to handle without trying to guess what Becket was thinking. The truth was, this wasn’t the first time he’d let the idea of returning to Dover creep in. Watching Becket’s family—loud, chaotic, full of love—had planted a seed. Lochlan’s own father had been incredible but it had always been just the two of them. After he died, that sense of belonging had disappeared.
He hadn’t realized just how deeply and fiercely he’d longed for family, community, people who were his, until he spent those school breaks surrounded by everything he’d never had. And now, the possibility dangled in front of him. If he didn’t go back, he’d never know. If he did…
“Have you talked to Nia about this?” Becket asked, leaning forward in his chair.
“I told her some of the history,” Lochlan replied. “And my brother’s request.”
“And the possibility of leaving?”
Lochlan looked away. He hadn’t. He couldn’t. The thought of telling her made his chest tighten.
Unless she’d go with him.
Becket sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as if he’d heard Lochlan’s thought. “Magic has to be hidden there,” he said, his tone wary.
“Magic is hidden here,” Lochlan shot back.
“Not like that.” Becket’s gaze hardened. “It’s shunned there, Lochlan. Forbidden. It’s thought of as dangerous and wrong. Here, we can use it. We’ve got places where we can actually be free. And you—” He hesitated. “You’re finally using it. I’ve seen it.”
