Chapter 22
Nia
“WE HAVE YOUR OCTOBER STELLA RUNE ITINERARY!” —THE STELLA RUNE GAZETTE
Nia loved the tunnels under Stella Rune.
Some parts were narrow, barely wide enough for two people to pass through, but then they would open into wide expanses that held cafes and magical stores.
She inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of saltwater, ancient stone, and a lingering trace of magic.
The tunnels had started as sea caves, and over centuries were shaped and expanded by supernaturals into the winding network now hidden beneath the town.
She glanced over at Lochlan, noticing the way his shoulders had tensed.
“What’s wrong?” Nia asked. “I told you, I’m fine.” She tugged up her sleeve, revealing clear skin where the angry welts had been. “See? No lasting damage.”
Lochlan’s frown deepened as he kept his gaze ahead. “You shouldn’t have done that to yourself,” he muttered.
Nia’s smile turned faintly apologetic. “It was the first thing I could think of to throw my father off. It worked, didn’t it?” She gave a weak shrug.
“That doesn’t mean it was necessary,” Lochlan said.
She bit back a retort, reminding herself he wasn’t wrong. He’d been grumpy about the whole ordeal—the spell and the hives—but so far, he hadn’t brought up the kiss. Her skin heated.
“What is it, then?”
“I hate the tunnels.”
Lochlan didn’t seem like someone who hated things, not without a reason, at least. She almost asked why, but his furrowed brow made her hesitate.
Her lips curved slightly as she posed a different question. “What about the ocean?”
“We’re underground.” He arched an eyebrow.
She took his hand and led him into one of the darker nooks, where the glow-spells barely held, their waning magic little more than a warm but dim flicker.
“Nia…” Lochlan’s voice carried a note of hesitation, almost a warning.
She turned back to him, his expression wary and uncertain, half-hidden in shadow. Then she leaned in and kissed him, quickly, her lips brushing his. She resisted the urge to linger, to lose herself in the kiss, as she whispered against his lips: “Trust me.”
He held her gaze for a moment before squeezing her hand once—a silent agreement.
She continued forward, leading him deeper down the path. A few minutes later, the orange glow of sunset spilled through a wide opening. Fresh, salty air rushed in, and she glanced at Lochlan just in time to see him blink, his eyes adjusting to the sudden change in light.
His guarded expression softened. Nia felt a gentle swell of delight and relief.
“This,” she said, gesturing to the open alcove, “is my favorite place in all of Stella Rune.”
Lochlan followed her gaze, taking in the scene: a few wooden tables draped in white tablecloths, goblins bustling behind the counter along one side of the alcove, pulling shots of espresso and crafting pastries with brisk efficiency.
His brows rose. “The Goblin Grind?”
“The Goblin Grind,” she confirmed. “Everyone’s been to the takeout window in the tunnels, but this spot? This is special.”
Lochlan stepped into the tiny café, scanning the space with a mixture of curiosity and disbelief. “How does no one see this?”
Nia pointed upward, her gaze following the jagged silhouette of the cliff above them.
“That’s where the Astrarium is—the star-watching witches study the skies from up there.
It blocks the view from above.” She turned back to him, grinning.
“And Natasha has special sound wards in place, so we can’t be heard. ”
“Natasha?” Lochlan asked, his curiosity clearly piqued.
A shrill, accusatory voice cut through the air. “Nia the Damned has returned! And where, child, have you been?”
Nia turned to Natasha, a green-skinned goblin standing on the counter, brandishing an oversized wooden mixing spoon like a weapon.
Nia laughed and went to hug the goblin, her head swallowed by Natasha’s ample chest. She inhaled the comforting scent of coffee and sugar.
“Hi, Tashy,” she said, her voice muffled.
“Answer me,” Natasha demanded, her arms squeezing tighter around her neck.
Nia hesitated. “Well, you see…”
“I knew it!” Natasha sniffed her hair and huffed, pushing Nia to arm’s length to glare at her. “You’ve found one of those fancy coffee places upstairs, haven’t you?”
Upstairs is what Natasha called the main streets of Stella Rune. Nia shook her head, her smile widening. “No, I found a Lochlan who makes coffee to rival yours.”
Natasha’s eyes widened, and she raised the spoon high. “Where is he? I must battle him and reclaim my crown!”
Nia laughed and pointed toward the entrance. “I brought him.” She gestured at Lochlan, who still lingered at the shop’s entrance. The golden light of the sunset glowed on his skin, and for a moment, her breathe caught.
Natasha huffed and glared at him. Lochlan’s face flushed under the intensity of her scrutiny.
“He yours?” Natasha stage-whispered.
Nia hesitated, a surprising flicker of possessiveness curling in her chest.
“Come in, Lochlan,” Natasha called, waving him in with her spoon without waiting for Nia’s reply. “Tell me what you do to make your coffee better than mine.”
Lochlan glanced at Nia. She gave him a small nod.
“I use caramel sauce instead of the usual syrup,” he said, clearing his throat.
Natasha hummed, suspicious.
“I add the cardamom in when making the orange syrup,” he continued. “And osmanthus flowers. I steep them into the syrup and sprinkle a sugared version on top.”
“Devilwood?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.
“Yes. Osmanthus is sometimes called devilwood. It adds a little tension on the back end.”
“You sneaky little witch,” Natasha said, sounding scandalized and delighted. “Where are you from?”
“Dover, madam,” Lochlan said, bowing his head slightly.
Natasha’s cheeks flushed a deep green, the skin around her eyes crinkling. She sniffed the air, her gaze sharpening. “There’s royal blood in your veins. Our kind used to feast on your ancestors.”
Lochlan choked out a laugh, his eyes meeting Natasha’s with a hint of challenge. “I hope you take coin instead of blood these days.”
Natasha grinned, her eyes brightening. “I like you,” she said, her tone approving. She swept toward the espresso bar, spoon aloft like a scepter, muttering something about herb witches and nice asses. “Now sit, sit. I’ll make you two drinks and grab you pastries.”
Nia led Lochlan to a table against the outer wall, overlooking the ocean. The heating spells kept them warm, allowing them to comfortably enjoy the breathtaking view.
Lochlan settled into his chair, glancing out at the ocean before turning his gaze back to Nia. “Have you been coming here long?”
Nia nodded. “Since I was thirteen or so. It was hard growing up as an only child in a big, empty house. As a teen? I was horrible.” She shook her head, remembering Wulfric trying to wrangle her.
“I got curious after hearing whispers about the tunnels under the town, so one day, I decided to go hunting for them. It was scary. And amazing.”
“Scary?” Lochlan asked, his brows drawing together.
She let out a slow breath, ready to let him in on this part of her past. She thought she would need to build up the courage, but it was already there, waiting.
“It took me a while to piece together why my life was the way it was,” she admitted. “My father told people I’d died in childbirth—after The Anti-Glamour Coalition orchestrated my mother’s death. And then he kept me hidden. I never left the manor grounds.”
Lochlan’s jaw tensed. “I’m so sorry.”
Nia hesitated. “Thank you.”
“So… no one knows?”
“You. Ivy. I’m assuming Becket.” She smiled faintly. “I had healers and tutors, but either my father wiped their memories, or they’re too scared to tell anyone who I am.”
Lochlan studied her for a moment, his face unreadable. There was a lot he wasn’t saying, and she could feel the unspoken thoughts hanging in the air between them.
Before he could find the words, a different goblin approached, carrying a large tray over his head. On it were two steaming mochas and a plate of fluffy pastries.
“Thank you, Albert,” Nia said warmly.
Albert gave her a sharp-toothed grin, but when his gaze flicked to Lochlan, his eyes narrowed in warning. Lochlan offered a polite nod and Albert huffed before disappearing back inside.
Lochlan lifted his mocha in a small toast. “Am I safe here?” he asked, a playful glint in his eyes.
Nia laughed softly. “Yes. It’s very safe. This is my table.” She lifted the edge of the white tablecloth, revealing intricate runes etched into the wooden surface, ones she’d carved herself. “No one can hear us, and if anyone looks at us, they’ll forget we were here. Except the goblins, of course.”
Lochlan sipped his drink. “Is this a place where you come to spy?”
Nia shook her head. “No, it’s a place where I hide.”
Lochlan’s gaze softened, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. “I had a place like that, once.”
Nia tilted her head, curiosity piqued. “You don’t talk about Dover much.”
“Too many bad memories,” Lochlan said, looking away.
Nia reached across the table, her fingers brushing his. “And the tunnels remind you of them?” she guessed.
Lochlan turned, his eyes searching hers before his expression softened. “Not this place,” he said, with a small, sad smile. “The tunnels themselves. But there’s clearly a lot I haven’t seen. Maybe you can show me more, and they won’t remind me so much of the castle.”
Nia smiled, her heart warming. “Of course.” She squeezed his hand, and he took hers, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles.
A giggle echoed from the back, and Nia shot a playful stream of shadows toward Natasha, who peeked out from behind the espresso bar, laughing as she dodged. “Behave, you two!”
“See?” Nia shook her head, smiling. “Perfectly safe.”
They finished their pastries in comfortable silence, the warmth of the moment wrapping around them like a blanket.
“So,” Lochlan said, finally, “tomorrow is the full moon celebration. How do you want to handle it?”
Nia exhaled, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “I doubt my father will have time for us—he’ll be too busy preening like a peacock.” She’d seen the photos the media captured at every public event, The Sword surrounded by fawning supernaturals, basking in their attention.
“Besides,” she added, “he wouldn’t dare out me as his daughter. We can fly under the radar, make our rounds, act like we barely tolerate each other, then leave.”
Pretending was the only way to win against her father.
So why did it feel like she was setting herself up for failure?
The thought of keeping Lochlan at arm’s length in public while allowing herself to fall for him in private sent a ripple of unease through her. Could she really separate the two? Was she a good enough actress to convince others he meant nothing, when really he was beginning to mean so much?
Lochlan frowned. “I don’t know that I can hide how I feel about you.”
Nia’s breath hitched. Her instinct was to deflect, to downplay—because acknowledging it felt dangerous. She hesitated.
“Then I’ll just get myself kicked out,” she said, smirking.
“You go, I go. ” Lochlan’s lips twitched. “How?”
“The Videt has a strict no-nudity policy. Feel like getting naked in public again?”
“It can only get easier with practice.” His confident tone didn’t quite match the uneasy look in his eyes, but Nia smiled anyway.
“We’ll figure it out.”
Lochlan studied her, his expression unreadable. Then he reached over, his hand closing over hers.
Nia’s gaze lingered on their joined hands, her mind spinning in a thousand directions.
Balancing the tentative pull of a relationship with Lochlan against the counter-weight of her battle with her father felt impossible, like standing on a tightrope over the roaring ocean.
She’d never let herself want like this, never been in any real relationship before.
And now the thought of hiding it—even for a purpose she believed in—made her chest ache.
Could she win against her father while still exploring what this could become?
Could she let herself be vulnerable with Lochlan while pretending to be indifferent in front of everyone else?
She didn’t know.
But for now, she let the quiet warmth of his touch settle her, a small reminder that even if the road ahead was tangled and uncertain, she wasn’t walking it alone. They would find their way through tomorrow night together.
And when in doubt, cause chaos.