Chapter 37 Nia
Nia
“MOTORCYCLES ON THE RISE—STELLA RUNE DESPERATE TO STOP THE NOISE.” —THE STELLA RUNE GAZETTE
It was Monday afternoon, and the tunnels were mercifully quiet.
The distant drip of water echoed through the stone corridors, blending with the low hum of glowing runes etched into the walls, their faint golden light flickering.
Nia took a deep, slow breath and let the peaceful stillness settle over her.
After the heat of the other night, and the night after that, and this morning, she wasn’t exactly complaining. She needed a moment to breathe, to collect herself, to pretend Lochlan wasn’t slowly, relentlessly reshaping the world as she knew it.
Nia swore she could still feel his touch—those hungry, purposeful hands, his low, growling voice that made her breath hitch—and just the memory had her fighting to keep her expression neutral.
The cool autumn air didn’t stand a chance against the warmth that spread through her, making her grateful for the quiet solitude of the tunnels.
Of course, it didn’t help that Lochlan was right there beside her.
His dark hair fell into soft, messy waves, brushing against the collar of his burgundy coat.
The scruff along his jaw—thicker now, giving him an even more rugged edge—added to the unfair appeal.
Nia’s gaze drifted to his hands, the way they casually cradled his coffee cup, his fingers long and strong.
Focus, Nia.
Not that anyone in the tunnels would notice or care. The unspoken rule of these underground paths was simple: what happened in the tunnels stayed in the tunnels. No one gossiped, no one tattled. Even Tashy, who’d handed over their coffees with her usual wink, wouldn’t breathe a word.
Her green skin had darkened with a blush when Lochlan flashed one of those smiles at her. “Thank you, madame,” he’d said, his voice as smooth and rich as the coffee he’d ordered.
Nia had to bite back a grin as Tashy all but melted into the counter. She couldn’t blame her.
“So,” Nia said as they turned down the next passage, her own coffee warm in her hand. “Where to first?”
Lochlan glanced down the dimly lit corridor. “I don’t know,” he said, his brow furrowing slightly. “Is there any real map of the tunnels? Something comprehensive?”
Nia laughed softly, shaking her head. “No maps. But name something, and I’m sure we can find it.”
He hesitated, his expression thoughtful but a little sheepish. “I’m not even sure what to ask for,” he said finally, a self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips.
Before he could retreat further into his own thoughts, Nia reached for his hand, her fingers sliding easily into his. “Okay,” she said, tugging him gently down the next passage. “How about this? I’ve noticed you don’t carry any quick spells.”
Lochlan blinked, his steps faltering slightly as they passed a row of small, glowing shops carved into the stone walls.
Their entrances were arched and shimmered with spells; faint, colorful light spilled out onto the tunnel floor.
One shop was cluttered with shelves of tiny glass bottles filled with swirling liquids while another showcased enchanted trinkets that sparkled with magic.
The warm hum of quiet conversation buzzed in the air, blending with the subdued crackle of spell work being tested behind the counters.
“You’ve gone through my things?” he asked, arching a brow at her, his tone hovering between teasing and genuinely curious.
“You know I have,” Nia said quickly.
He’d found his shirt under her pillow. He hadn’t said anything, just dragged her under him and kissed her so slowly, from her lips to her breasts, her stomach, and then when he’d nestled between her legs, he practically feasted for a ha—
She blinked, refocusing. “I just… your pockets are always empty. And I’ve never seen you pull anything out when we might have used a quick spell.”
“Right,” Lochlan murmured, contemplative.
She glanced at him, suddenly uncertain. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” she added, her voice faltering. “I mean, you’re obviously more than capable. It’s just, you never know when a quick spell might come in handy and I figured—”
“Nia,” Lochlan interrupted gently, pulling her from her spiraling thoughts. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.” He squeezed her hand and kissed her knuckles.
The tension in her chest eased, and she offered a small smile before leading him down the tunnel. The faint scent of dried herbs drifted toward them as they turned a corner, and the golden glow of a familiar shop spilled into the passage.
The air was heavy with magic, and Nia felt it brush against her skin as they stepped inside.
Shelves lined the walls, crowded with jars, vials, and tins.
Bundles of herbs hung from the ceiling, their scent blending with the bite of salts and potions.
Baskets of spell components were scattered on the floor, and the counter held an orderly display of bottles and scrolls.
Nia stepped up to it, pulling a few small tins from her coat pocket, then a couple more from her purse, and finally one last one from a hidden pocket in her skirt. She placed the containers on the counter in a tidy row, her movements precise and practiced.
“I need a stock-up,” she told the shopkeeper, a wiry woman with sharp eyes and streaks of silver in her hair. Then, gesturing toward Lochlan, she added, “And he needs his first traveling spell kit.”
The shopkeeper’s eyes shifted to Lochlan, narrowing slightly as they swept over him. Nia frowned, her gaze darting between the two.
“Hey,” she said, her tone light but with an edge, “keep those eyes to yourself.”
The shopkeeper scoffed, crossing her arms. “I wasn’t looking like that. I’m assessing his needs.”
Nia’s suspicion lingered, but before she could press further, Lochlan stepped forward as his attention was caught by something on the shelf.
“This is an amazing selection,” he said, sounding both impressed and curious. He pointed to a bottle near the top, its pale green label faded but legible. “How do you procure moonlace root? I’ve heard it’s tricky to grow.”
The shopkeeper’s demeanor shifted, her expression softening. “Good eye. My uncle grows them up the coast in his greenhouse. He’s been working with moonlace for decades.”
At the mention of the greenhouse, a shadow of unease crossed Lochlan’s face. Nia caught the way his fingers tensed against the counter, his posture stiffening. Though his expression smoothed a moment later, she had no doubt his thoughts had gone to Dover.
He’d told her about it the night he came home—sleepy and blissed from another round in bed, his guard lowered just enough to let the words slip free.
About his sister and her misplaced hatred, about the greenhouse that once meant something and now meant nothing at all.
About his mother. There was no grief, only the quiet understanding that what he’d been chasing all those years—the sense of belonging, a place and purpose to be a part of—had never been in Dover.
He told her how he had stood beside Thane, how he was proud of his brother.
He’d even showed her the absurdity of the crowd that had gathered for them, the signs waving in the air.
Lochlan thought it was ridiculous. But Nia agreed with Thane.
She was unsurprised the people of the kingdom would appreciate and admire him, if he let them.
And if she ever saw Dru-bitch-face in person, she’d have a few things to say herself.
When they left the shop, Nia’s pockets were heavier and her purse was weighed down with tins and herbs. Lochlan carried a small, neatly packed tin, turning it over as they walked. He carefully inspected the labeled compartments, his expression unreadable.
“So,” he said finally, glancing at her. “I just… carry this with me?”
Nia hesitated, feeling a bit sheepish. “You don’t have to,” she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I just thought—”
“No, no,” Lochlan interrupted, his tone soft as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
“This is great. Really.” He paused, his thumb brushing over the edge of the tin.
“I’ve seen people with these kinds of kits before, but…
” He trailed off, uncertain. “I didn’t start doing magic outside of herbalism for a very long time.
Not until I met Becket. Even then, I was worried I’d mess something up or… ” He sighed. “Look foolish.”
Nia’s heart ached at this. She squeezed his hand, trying to think of the right thing to say. But before she could, a bright, cheerful voice echoed through the tunnel.
“Lochlan!”
They both turned. An older woman strode toward them with the kind of bubbly energy that seemed determined to fill any space.
“Oh no,” Lochlan muttered under his breath, his voice tight with dismay. “Naked Nancy.”
Nia choked on a laugh, nearly spilling her coffee. “What?”
Before he could respond, the woman in question came shuffling toward them, her heeled boots clicking unevenly against the stone floor as her hands flapped wildly, like she was trying to corral their attention.
But she certainly wasn’t naked.
“My goodness,” Nancy exclaimed, her voice breathless and chipper. “I can’t believe I’m running into you again, Lochlan! We hardly see you at—”
“Yes,” Lochlan cut in sharply, his tone overly bright. “Yes. Hello, Nancy.” He gave her a tight smile, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “Well, we’re on our way somewhere. Was there, uh, something you needed?”
“Oh gosh, no,” Nancy said, waving him off as if the question were absurd. “But when I see Lochlan about, I have to make sure I say hello. It’s such a rare sight!”
Nia blinked, her head swiveling between. Nancy’s cheerfulness was practically buzzing off her, but Lochlan looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. He shifted awkwardly, looking more than anything like a cornered animal as Nancy continued to beam at him.