Page 95 of Hand-Fasting and Other Hazards
Thane groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. His gaze flicked around the garden, as if wary of attracting curious eyes and ears. “For fuck’s sake, stop it.”
Lochlan barely heard him.
He had kept up with Drusilla over the years—not out of nostalgia, but morbid curiosity. The girl who had tormented him had grown into a woman the public adored. She played the role well, standing at the queen’s side, exuding grace and charm: a picture-perfect princess, beloved by the people.
But Lochlan suspected there was more beneath the polished surface, cracks she fought to keep hidden. And now, as she stood before him, shaking with anger, her mask slipping, he felt it. The shadows thickened at the edges of his vision, responding to something deeper than thought. And this time, he didn’t recoil. He let them reach for her.
The bright, manicured gardens seemed to grow darker, dimmer.
Then it hit him.
The sting of her loss: a sharp, aching grief that hollowed her chest. The anger curling inside her, desperate for an outlet. The betrayal, the way their mother’s lies had unraveled, exposing secrets she’d never wanted to know.
It crashed into him like a wave—her pain bleeding into him and summoning his own.
He had buried his agony. Drusilla? She’d turned it into a weapon.
That wasn’t an excuse.
She gasped, stumbling back. “What are you trying to do to me, you evil witch?”
“Evil?” Lochlan let out a cold laugh. “Drusilla, you set fire to an entire building. You bullied and tormented me for years. Why? Why did you hate me so much?”
“Because you’re here!” she snapped. Her voice wavered though her rage did not. “Because the moment people found out about you, it ruined everything.” Her hands curled into fists at her sides, trembling. “You’re the reason we’re about to lose everything, that the kingdom is on the brink of collapse. You’re the reason my father is dead!”
Lochlan’s breath caught.
“Oh, Drusilla,” Thane murmured, his voice softer now, almost pitying. “Dad died because he was sick. You know his heart was weak. He’d had problems since he was a child.”
“No, no,” she whispered. “No! It was because of him!” Her wild gaze snapped back to Lochlan. “And when he died, I wanted you to lose something you loved as much as I loved him.” Her breath shuddered. “Your precious greenhouse, full of witches.”
Lochlan couldn’t speak. He understood now. Drusilla was lost in her anger, trapped in it, controlled by it.
There would never be reconciliation with her.
“You could have killed someone,” Thane said, his tone no longer soft. “You could have set the whole palace on fire.”
Drusilla turned on him, her expression twisting. “Oh, now you care?” she snapped. “You always take his side! But you couldn’t, not if you’d cared about Dad the way I did.”
Thane’s jaw tightened. “You think I didn’t care?” His voice was ice. “I’m the one trying to hold this kingdom together. I’m the one making sure it doesn’t collapse under the weight of our family’s mistakes.” His gaze flicked between them, heavy with meaning. “And we need Lochlan—all of us—to show what a true family looks like.”
Drusilla let out a bitter laugh. “We were never a family.”
She turned and stalked off, the click of her heels echoing as she fled down the stone path.
Lochlan exhaled, tension coiled in his shoulders as he watched her disappear into the palace.
For a moment, Thane said nothing, his gaze distant.
“You asked me to come, told me things would be different,” Lochlan pushed, his voice rising. “But clearly they aren’t.”
“They can be. Will be. I just…” Thane rubbed the back of his neck, his composure slipping. “I need time.”
“Time for what?” Lochlan asked, crossing his arms.
Thane sighed and glanced at him, his voice steady but low. “The Ceremonial Commission of the Silver Guard is in two days.”
“Goddess, that’s a mouthful,” Lochlan muttered dryly.
