Page 107 of Hand-Fasting and Other Hazards
“Lochlan for King (of My Bed)”
“Lochlan & Thane, marry me and my sister!”
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
He wished Nia were here to see the sheer absurdity of it. As Thane shook hands and posed for photos, Lochlan pulled out his phone and snapped a quick picture of the crowd. The moment he did, people erupted into cheers.
Thane caught sight of it, let out a laugh, and promptly swiped Lochlan’s phone. Before Lochlan could protest, his brother slung an arm around his shoulders, grinning wide as he angled the camera for a selfie. The crowd behind them went wild, their cheers doubling as Thane snapped a few shots.
With a final wave to the enthusiastic spectators, Thane passed the phone back, clapping Lochlan on the back before they were both swiftly ushered away by Malrik through the palace doors and into a private parlor. Echo padded in behind them, his nails clicking softly against the marble floor as he took his place at Thane’s side.
Thane poured them each a glass of water and handed one to Lochlan. “Did you see that crowd? It’s the biggest we’ve seen in years.”
“What did you do to make them come?” Lochlan asked, raising a brow at the palace advisor.
“Me?” Malrik sipped his water, looking almost amused. “That was all you.”
“Not a chance,” Lochlan chuckled, shaking his head.
Thane only smiled. Malrik flipped open his tablet, tapped a few times, then turned the bright screen toward Lochlan.
“Prince Lochlan Returns Home, but Where Is His Wife?”
“Prince Lochlan Seen Volunteering for Those Less Fortunate.” The accompanying photos showed him at the Stella Rune harvest.
“Prince Lochlan’s Wife—What We Know.”
His name filled the headlines, an endless scroll of speculation and gossip, despite the fact that he had only been here for three days.
“People know I’m married,” Lochlan huffed. “What’s with the signs?”
“It’s not about facts; it’s about fantasy.” Malrik shrugged. “They know you’re married, but they don’t care. Thane isn’t in a relationship, but the moment he so much as looks at someone, the papers are ready to print wedding announcements.”
Lochlan frowned. “I didn’t realize… they really care about what we’re doing?”
Thane and Malrik exchanged a look.
“Yes,” Malrik said plainly.
Had Wulfric known this would happen? Had he foreseen that Lochlan, of all people, would have some sort of pull? Wulfric’s plans had always been far grander than the marriage he had forced upon Lochlan and Nia. That much had been clear from the start. But the true scope of those plans was only now beginning to reveal itself through the diaries Lochlan had painstakingly restored.
How Wulfric had reshaped their world. How he had rejected the notion that magic should rule. How he had built a system to protect humans—one that, in time, sought coexistence, not dominance. And now, somehow, Lochlan was entwined in that vision. Did Wulfric hope he would be the bridge between the magical world and the human one?
Could he be?
Lochlan suddenly felt an urgent, pressing need to get home—to keep building his relationship with Nia. To fix the remaining diaries. To find the rest of the pieces that would let him see the whole puzzle and how he and Nia fit into it.
“I have to go.”
He pushed past them without another word, his mind set. Thane caught up only when they reached Lochlan’s room. The black messenger cat stretched lazily on the bed, yawning a greeting.
“You’re leaving?” Thane asked as he stepped inside. His brows pulled together. “And—how did a cat get in here?”
Lochlan barely glanced up as he scribbled a note, tied it to the cat’s collar, and scratched behind its ears. “Take this to Nia.”
The cat chirped and vanished into the shadows. Echo lunged after it, but a loud thump followed, and the dog spun in circles, searching for a feline that was already long gone.
“I have to get home,” Lochlan muttered, shoving clothes into his bag.
