Page 104 of Hand-Fasting and Other Hazards
His pulse hammered in his ears as he threw the door open and stepped into the chamber.
The room was bathed in golden candlelight, soft and flickering against the high stone walls. A fire burned low in the hearth, filling the space with a quiet warmth at odds with the tenor of the conversation. Malrik—a thin, sharp-looking man—stiffened at the intrusion. Thane, standing near the queen’s chair, looked wary.
But it was his mother who caught Lochlan’s attention.
Queen Lavinia sat poised, dressed in rich midnight silks, her crown resting lightly against her dark hair. She looked at him with cool, assessing eyes, as if truly seeing him for the first time.
Lochlan met her gaze. “I’m not here to solve your problems.”
“Lochlan—” Thane began.
But Lochlan cut him off. “If my presence helps, fine. But that’s not why I came.”
Lavinia stared at him, her expression unreadable, though her posture shifted almost imperceptibly. She waved a hand. “Leave us.”
Drusilla left quickly, glaring at Lochlan as she did. The advisor hesitated, but at a pointed look from the queen, he bowed and slipped out. Thane followed, but not before squeezing Lochlan’s shoulder in silent reassurance.
Then it was just the two of them.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Finally, Lavinia sighed, the sound thoughtful. “You remind me of Galan.”
The words hit him harder than he expected. Galan—his father. A name he hadn’t heard spoken in years.
“But I look like you,” Lochlan said cautiously.
“Yes.” A pause. “But you are like your father. Kind. Calm.”
An incredulous laugh escaped him before he could stop it. “What the fuck is this?” His voice was harsh and edged with disbelief. “You’ve never said anything like this before.”
Lavinia’s lips thinned. She tilted her head slightly. “You came here for closure.”
Lochlan hesitated. “I came to see if there was anything here for me.”
“There isn’t,” she said simply. “Not within these walls, at least.”
He clenched his jaw.
Her gaze didn’t waver. “Tell me what you want, Lochlan.”
He studied her, searching for—he didn’t know what. Maybe he never had. But he did want to know?—
“Did you ever care about my father?” He hesitated. “About me?”
Something flickered in her eyes, but it was gone before he could name it. When she spoke, her voice was measured, quiet.
“I have always been bound by duty,” she said. “It was in my blood. In everything around me. But I rebelled in the only ways I knew how. I sought distraction—wherever I could find it. In the city, hidden behind a disguise. In the unseen corners of this castle. With Galan.”
Lochlan swallowed, his throat tight. “And me?”
She let out a slow breath. “You were proof I couldn’t run free.”
His stomach twisted, but he said nothing.
“I could be queen and still have my freedom—until you became real. Until you were undeniably your father’s son. And so I hid you.” Her tone was even, but there was something beneath it, raw and worn thin with time. “I tried. I tried to act as if it never happened, tried to be a good queen, a good wife, a good mother to the children my husband gave me.”
Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken things.
