Page 37 of Stolen Magic

With every step away from her, I felt myself reclaiming some of my faltering control. Her silence trailed behind us, heavier than her accusations. Even once she was out of sight and I had no more need to perform, I still clung to Callan’s hand, unable to release him for reasons I didn’t fully understand.

We crossed back into the shadows of the trees. He said nothing for a long moment, but I sensed his churning thoughts, his mind still turning over every moment from our recent interaction. Then finally, he quietly spoke. “She knew about the flower.”

My throat closed up. “What?”

“That flower I gave her—or rather, you.” His gaze drifted back towards the field, though the goose girl was no longer in sight. “She described the moment exactly, a spontaneous gesture I did because I hoped it might help you feel more comfortable. No one else but the two of us was there, and I never told anyone. How could she have known about it?”

He turned back to me with the kind of stillness that unsettled more than any accusation ever could, a doubt that I couldn’t allow to go any further. My panic rose, causing everything to blur.

“There was something else,” he added, more slowly now. “Her mention of the pressed flower made me remember another, one you caught in the palace gate on our first stroll. You told me that even something crushed could still matter, and promised that someday—if our feelings deepened—you would press one for me that wasn’t broken.”

That memory hadn’t come from me. Despite the spell I’d cast across his own mind, a small ember of truth had survived, glowing brighter with each word he recalled. If he kept nourishing it…eventually he would remember his true fiancée, and everything I had sacrificed would burn to ash.

He hesitated, then continued softly. “And then…you sang a lullaby—not one I’ve ever heard at court, but one your nursemaid used to hum whenever you were afraid of thunder. You didn’t sing the words, just the melody. But it stayed with me because it made me think of someone loved so deeply they remembered comfort more than fear.”

His eyes flicked to mine. “I’d forgotten about that memory until now,” he murmured, more to himself than to me. “But something about that goose girl’s voice brought it back…almost as ifshewas part of the memory that should have belonged to you.”

Every heartbeat was agony now, fueled not just by fear, but jealousy of a tender moment he had once shared with someone else…a memory that had nothing to do with me even though I wore her name.

No matter what, I couldn’t let this memory take root. But I’d already used the last of the magic Myst had scavenged; my pouch hung empty and useless around my neck. All that remained was my limited innate power. Through the white-hot ache still radiating from the cursed seal on my palm, I reached deep inside my depleted reserves, scraping the bottom of the lingering residue that remained.

Please, I begged silently. Just once more. Let it be enough.

Myst leapt forward with a hiss of warning. “Stop, you don’t have enough?—!”

But it was already too late. I whispered the incantation under my breath, my trembling voice barely forming the words. The spell surged upward, jagged and unstable from how little power I had left to wield it. The seal ignited with searing heat as the magic tore free with a force that left my vision spinning. But I pushed through, willing the spell to take hold with the last of my strength.

I saw it touch his mind, reaching for that fragile, dangerous memory I needed to eradicate—it dissolved, like a page burning to ash.

But I was already falling.

“Gwen?” Callan’s voice cracked through the rising fog just as my legs gave out from beneath me. Strong arms caught me an instant before I hit the ground. “Gwen!”

I barely registered the cold grass beneath me, only the flicker of his warmth, the panic in his voice, my blurring surroundings. Pain bloomed behind my eyes as the world dimmed, shadows curling at the edges of my awareness, pulling me deeper into the shadowy blackness. Somewhere in the growing hush, I heardhim call for me again—the name false, but the worry filling his voice real.

And in that final, flickering moment before the dark claimed me, I wished he knew who I really was so he could have spokenmyname with the tender concern I was growing to cherish. Not the princess, or the witch, or the liar…just me.

With that thought, everything faded into darkness.

CHAPTER 14

CALLAN

The fire in the hearth crackled softly, but its warmth didn’t reach where I sat beside my fiancée’s bed. Twilight had begun to settle over the palace, signifying the long hours since Gwen had fainted. The fading light deepened the shadows across her pale face, her lovely complexion now almost ghostlike against her tangled dark hair.

Her sudden collapse had shaken me, more than I’d expected when our relationship was still so new, barely more than a handful of carefully worded letters and shared courtship moments. I couldn’t forget the way her strength had vanished in an instant, the fire in her eyes dimming as unconsciousness pulled her beneath its depths. She had felt so small and fragile in my arms, helplessness and vulnerability that seemed so different from her usual confidence and poise.

I’d waved off our attending guards and carried her to her chambers myself. Despite the impropriety of being alone with her in her bedroom while we still remained unwed, I had remained at her bedside ever since, occasionally visitedby servants bringing refreshments, tending the fire, or simply offering to take my place so I could rest.

Night drew nearer, and still she didn’t awaken, her brow creased as though her rest was not peaceful even as she lay deathly still. The royal physician had given her a thorough examination and was at a loss as to the cause of her sudden illness, which only escalated my already acute worry, leaving me helpless.

Another emotion hovered just out of reach of my understanding—an unease that extended beyond my fear for her health—a persistent, gnawing feeling that something wasn’t right, as if there were missing traces in my memory that hadn’t existed before.

Before I could examine this wayward thought further, her hand suddenly twitched against the blankets. I instantly leaned forward. “Gwen?” I kept my voice low, soothing. “Can you hear me?”

She responded with a faint moan, pain etched across her furrowed expression. My heart twisted. I reached for her cold, trembling hand and clasped it between my own. Her fingers stirred, curling lightly against my palm, as if trying to return my hold…before she once more stilled.

The fire burned lower, its glow dimming to embers, as the minutes stretched. My fingers soon grew numb but I didn’t let go. I stayed anchored to her side, waiting for her to wake and look at me with those searching eyes again. But she remained trapped in unconsciousness, leaving nothing to distract me from the confusion slowly engulfing my mind, the creeping realization that something wasn’t right.

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