Page 36 of Stolen Magic

“You truly don’t remember?” Princess Gwendolyn stood there, eyes wide with disbelief and helplessness. Her hands trembled as she clutched the folds of her servant’s dress like an anchor as her gaze slid from him…to me. I saw the moment several previously missing pieces snapped into place.

Her confusion narrowed into fury. “You.” Her words were a whisper, but the accusation struck like a shout. “You did something to him, just like you did to me. Youspelledhim…to take my place.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Spelled him?Are you claiming I’m a witch?” I kept my voice low enough so that the prince couldn’t overhear. In a kingdom as power-hungry and fearful as Eldoria, being outed as a magic-wielder was far more dangerous than being exposed as animposter.

Princess Gwendolyn faltered. Even with her altered memory, she hadn’t forgotten how rare and nearly extinct magic users were. “I—” Her brow furrowed, and I could almost see her struggle to unearth the full details of the curse I’d cast upon her that wasn’t entirely gone.

Prince Callan turned slightly towards me, his expression puzzled. “What is she talking about?”

I opened my mouth for an explanation, but for the first time in days, no lie came readily to my lips as I glanced between the two people I was hurting with my deception, two people who had always treated me with kindness despite my expectations of royals. My thoughts stuttered, tangled in the very web I had spun and now found myself ensnared in. Beside me, Myst flicked her tail in silent warning.

I could feel the sharp, cold edge of panic scraping against my resolve. I forced a steadying breath in an effort to summon my composure as I stepped forward and slid my hand in his. In my avoidance to getting too close to him, other than the occasional brush of contact when he escorted me, this was the first time I’d reached for him voluntarily.

He startled and looked down at our connected hold. The gesture had been meant to distract him—to redirect his attention from the princess before her presence unearthed whatever patches of his memory the spell hadn’t managed to erase.

I hadn’t expected the startling emotions touching him invoked. I’d expected revulsion from the sensation of his hand enfolding mine, but instead it felt warm, steady, even comforting…creating a sense of belonging I hadn’t felt since Mother had died.

I wanted to remain in this moment free from pretending, just for a breath—to savor this tenderness and feel something real before I tainted it again with lies. But if I wanted to capture more than a single stolen heartbeat, I needed to do all withinmy power to convince the prince not to heed to the falters in his recollection magic alone couldn’t repair.

“This poor servant seems confused,” I said, forcing calm even as I felt a stab of pain from my continued betrayal. “Perhaps her hardships have caused her to cling to a fantasy.”

That gave him pause. His gaze shifted between us, doubt etched into every line of his face.

I softened my voice further, tone coaxing. “Even if most of our connection came through letters, you’ve known me for months and shared many memories with me. Iamyour fiancée.” I leaned in, just enough for the words to brush his ear. His breath hooked but he didn’t pull away. “Please don’t let her confusion take something precious from us.”

He didn’t respond, simply stood there, caught between us, lost in his confusion as her words pulled at the threads I’d woven from my limited magic, causing my grip on his memory to slip as the spell weakened. Yet his hand lingered in mine, not squeezing back…though he didn’t let go either.

I tugged on his hand, forcing my voice to remain steady. “Let’s go, Callan.”

It was the first time I’d willingly spoken his name, but even that wasn’t enough to break the spell she’d cast—not with magic, but with memory. His gaze stayed fixed on her as the beginning of recognition struggled to surface, fragile but growing, as if some buried part of him knew she was the key to dispelling the fog he now realized was shrouding his mind.

A dark thought stirred the back of my mind.I could spell him again—patch the edges of his memory and erase this entire interaction. The spell didn’t need to be strong—just enough to blur the seams. He would forget the goose girl, forget the flower she had brought to his remembrance, and forget her knowing eyes.

Deep down I knew the decision was reckless, but desperation surged through me, eclipsing all sense. I tightened my grip on his hand, keeping my other arm tucked at my side to shield my next movement. My fingers curled inward as I whispered the reinforcement enchantment beneath my breath—a spell to dull the memory the princess had roused.

I had barely attempted to summon my meager breadcrumbs of magic carefully gathered by Myst as she explored the palace since our arrival when agony flared through the cursed seal on my hand. My breath caught as pain seared through me, the edges of my vision blurring white.

“Gwen?” Callan’s voice cut through the haze, sharp with concern. “What’s wrong?”

Even through the discomfort, I registered the effect the name had on the princess—Gwendolyn’s mouth silently formed the word, as if testing the name on her tongue to see how it fit. The nickname seemed to stir something deep within her, the key that unlocked another sliver of dormant memory of her true identity my magic had tried so hard to suppress.

I forced myself to straighten. “It’s nothing,” I managed, voice hoarse. “Just a little dizzy.”

His gaze dropped to my trembling hand, clenched tight against my skirts. I quickly moved it behind me to hide it from view, pretending to smooth the fabric.

His frown deepened. “You’re pale.” His concern was both tender and torturous. While I longed for nothing more than to savor his attention as he bent towards me with a worried frown, too much scrutiny would peel back the layers of my disguise.

Please stop looking at me like that. Please don’t see who I truly am. I forced a brittle smile. “I’m fine, just tired. This has all been…a lot.” Which was true, just not in the way he thought.

He didn’t seem convinced, but his good nature mercifully allowed me to end this conversation before it veered into more dangerous territory.

Gwendolyn didn’t call for him, seeming to sense that for now she had lost. But unless I found a way to strengthen the spell entrapping her memories, it was only a matter of time before she remembered her royal identity and stole back all that was rightfully hers.

Even without her attempting to stop him, Callan paused as we departed, casting one last glance back towards her, standing frozen in the golden light. Her gaze remained locked on him and his gaze lingered on her in return, as if caught in a tug-of-war between memory and illusion…between her and me.

I turned away, not daring to look back to see the expression she wore; I couldn’t bear to. I needed time. I needed space. I needed a plan.

My hold tightened around his hand, more urgently than before. His gaze finally shifted back to mine. After a moment’s hesitation, he gently squeezed my fingers. He didn’t release my hand but his grip was looser now, almost uncertain. I could feel the weight of his thoughts pressing as heavily as my own, his silence far more dangerous than questions.

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