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!”
