Chapter 34 Lochlan
Lochlan
“A LONG-AWAITED HEIR - WELCOME HOME PRINCE LOCHLAN!” —THE DOVER CENTENNIAL
Lochlan woke to a soft purr. His gaze fell to the sleek black cat curled against his side, its small frame rising and falling in steady rhythm, warm against the cool morning air. He exhaled slowly, letting the animal’s peaceful slumber soothe him.
He had slept restlessly.
His mother’s words still lingered in his mind. Live the life you want, Lochlan.
What did he want? He had an answer now, but this didn’t make saying it any easier.
A faint glint of light caught his eye: a scroll tucked neatly into the cat’s collar. With tired fingers, Lochlan untied the parchment. His chest tightened as he scanned the familiar, bold handwriting:
Loch,
If I didn’t miss you so much, I’d tell you to take your time, just to prove I could be less dependent on you. But alas, I have a confession. I tried to heat up the food you left. And I ruined it. Completely. Utterly. The disaster was so bad I had to throw the pan away.
That’s why I had coffee for breakfast. So thank you for sending food to the office. I’ve only had takeout since. The delivery people no longer need to worry about going out of business.
I sound ridiculous, don’t I? But I’m blaming you.
Come home soon.
—N
P.S. I read to the ducks and gave them snacks. They like me better than you now.
Lochlan read it twice. Then again. Nia’s humor made him smile, but it was the vulnerability—the quiet confession beneath the teasing—that was a balm to the raw and ragged edges of his emotions.
He reached out and ran a hand over the cat’s soft fur.
The creature leaned into his touch with a low, contented purr, and he allowed the small, grounding moment to steady him.
A knock broke the peaceful moment. A palace attendant opened the door and entered a moment later, carrying a perfectly pressed suit.
“It’s time to prepare for the ceremony, Your Highness.”
Lochlan swallowed hard. He had never been comfortable with titles.
Prince had always felt borrowed, like it belonged to someone else and might be taken back at any moment.
But today he would try and own it. He would stand beside Thane, who’d never asked him for anything before, and do what he could to support him.
Not because he expected it would make any difference to the kingdom, but because—prince or not—he was Lochlan’s brother.
“I’ll be ready.”
* * *
The forecourt of the palace brimmed with tradition: rows of soldiers in formal dress, green and gold banners overhead, and the steady beat of a slow march echoing across the court.
Lochlan stood beside Thane, the morning sun casting long shadows across the freshly polished stone.
On Thane’s other side, Echo sat tall and alert, the massive dog as much a sentinel as any of the soldiers before them.
A new regiment stood in crisp formation, freshly sworn into service. On the grand balcony overlooking the proceedings from above, Queen Lavinia and Drusilla watched impassively.
Thane stepped forward, his uniform pristine and presence commanding. Lochlan had always admired that about his brother—his ability to slip so easily into the role of the prince, the warrior, the future king.
A hush settled over the gathered crowd as Thane began to speak.
“Our kingdom is built on the foundation of those who came before us,” he began, his voice carrying through the courtyard. “For centuries, my family has ruled, not only by blood, but by duty.”
A well-placed pause. Lochlan saw it coming before it happened—the moment Thane made the speech personal.
“My father served in these very ranks. So did I.” His gaze swept over the soldiers before him.
“I stood where you stand now. I trained beside those who have carried the weight of this kingdom’s safety on their shoulders.
And in doing so, I learned that strength is more than battle, that leadership is more than issuing commands. ”
He let the words settle, then added, “The true test of a soldier is not in how they fight—but in how they protect.”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the audience.
Thane was good at this, the delicate dance of appealing to tradition while asserting his own principles.
He continued, touching on the changes in warfare, on how this new generation of soldiers might not see battle in the same way their predecessors had, but their role was no less vital.
“Weapons evolve. Strategies change. But courage, duty, and heart still define us.”
Lochlan found himself proud. For all the distance and resentment, and despite their bitter history, the monarchy and the kingdom they ruled still mattered to Lochlan.
Their role, this place, was tied to history, to a legacy that was greater than any one person, and would endure in one way or another, whatever changes were on the horizon.
But this wasn’t Lochlan’s place or role. His duty lay in Stella Rune, with the Videt, with the archives, with Wulfric.
With Nia.
He just had to find a way to tell Thane.
Lochlan knew Wulfric would want him to maintain his ties here, to keep one foot in this world even as he built his life in another. And he would, in his own way, but from a distance.
Thane finished his speech to resounding applause, the soldiers standing at attention, the gathered nobility murmuring their approval. Lochlan let his gaze drift over the crowd, half-expecting to see nothing but a blur of faces and stiff courtiers.
Instead, he saw signs held high. Some bore Thane’s name. Others his own.
Lochlan blinked.
“Lochlan for King (of My Bed)”
“Lochlan 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.
Thane shook his head, no longer watching his dog. “This is your home.”
“No. Stella Rune is my home. Nia is my home. And I need to get back to them.”
“Look, I’m sorry about our mother,” Thane’s expression tightened, his stance bracing for a fight. “And I can never make right what Drusilla did—”
“Thane, stop.” Lochlan turned to face him.
“You never have to account for or make up for what either of them did. You saved my life—goddess, take more credit for the things you do.” He took a steadying breath.
“But this isn’t about them. It’s about me, and Nia, and the world we live in, and…
so much more. I will be what I can for you.
And for the kingdom, if it comes to it. But Nia, the people like us in Stella Rune, in the home I’ve found and built, they have to come first for me. ”
Thane searched Lochlan’s face, his jaw tight.
Then he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.
“I don’t get it. But I get it.” A pause.
“There’s a convening in a little over a week with leaders of the government and representatives of the opposition.
If we work together, I think we can turn the tide—come to a compromise that still preserves the legacy our forebearers built, and push back against those trying to end our rule. ”
Lochlan hesitated. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Lochlan?” Thane’s voice was soft. “I don’t want you to leave. I… I feel alone in this fight.”
Lochlan pulled his brother into a hug, tight and too short, before stepping back. “I will always be your brother. But this isn’t where I belong, Thane. And I think we both know it.”
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and strode out, his steps steady as he descended the staircase. This—returning to Nia, to Stella Rune, to the diaries that might help guide his path—was the only thing that felt right.
The only pain he felt was for Thane.