Page 41 of Stolen Magic

He didn’t await my response. “This,” he said, unfastening the latches, “is a fragment of what her family once ruled. Broken, contained, and most importantly,controlled.”

A shimmer rose from within as the lid creaked open, distorting the air, as if light bent strangely around it. I couldfeel it humming, power ancient and potent, like standing near a lightning storm.

“Magic,” I breathed.

His smile was thin. “And it’sours. Won in blood, sealed by treaty. Her kingdom surrendered it to us in exchange for protection after the rebellion destroyed their bloodline’s ability to wield it safely.”

I stared down at the faint pulse radiating from the chest. “Are you suggesting that’s why she’s here?”

“She’s here as a peace offering, a powerless symbol with a crown. So long as she remains just that, I’ll honor the treaty.” His gaze sharpened. “But if we have a spy in our midst and she’s trying to reclaimthis…I will not hesitate to revoke our agreement, nor will you be spared if you continue shielding her. Need I be more clear?”

Gwen, aspy?I yearned to dismiss the accusation outright…yet something held me back. The same uncertainty that had been shadowing me ever since her arrival whispered again, quiet and insistent.

I couldn’t speak. A storm roared inside me, shaking loose the assumptions I’d held since our engagement had first been arranged.

“She doesn’t know what she’s meddling with,” Father said, voice low. “And neither do you.” With a resounding click, he shut the chest. “Keep her in check, Callan…or I will.”

My thoughts raged louder than the wind off the battlements as I left the council chamber:Magic. It had always lingered like a ghost in our history—referenced in passing, spoken of with reverence and restraint. I’d grown up knowing our kingdom had absorbed the power of others, and had even admitted to Gwen that Eldoria had selfishly stolen her kingdom’s magic, but I had never fully consideredhow…or at what cost.

My mind whirled, unable to stop thinking of her—of the way she’d stiffened at the mention of my father; the quaver in her voice, as if her words carried the weight of half-truths; the way her fingers brushed the books in the archives like each one whispered something meant only for her.

I had defended her, lied for her, sat beside her bed with worry coiled in my chest. But if even part of what Father implied was true, she wasn’t just a curious bride trying to understand her new kingdom—she was searching for something buried, something dangerous…and she was willing to weave whatever lie necessary to obtain it.

My footsteps echoed as I climbed the stairs to her chambers, telling myself I only meant to check on her condition. But as I neared her door, I found it cracked open, the bed inside empty. I froze, worry gripping me. Where could she have gone?

A flicker of motion suddenly caught my eye down the corridor as pale silk vanished around the far corner, moving too quickly for someone who’d fainted several hours ago. She didn’t stop when I called her name. Concern escalated as I started quietly in her direction. Whatever secrets she might be keeping, she’d collapsed only hours ago and should be resting. She moved without courtly poise or aimless wandering, each step silent and purposeful, as if following an invisible trail.

I followed at a distance, trying to tell myself spying was necessary to ensure she wouldn’t collapse…as well as to ease the unwanted doubts planted by Father’s claims.

She paused at the junction between two wings, pressing her palm against the stone near an unlit sconce. Her eyes closed and for a long moment she stood still, her fingers hovering in the air…as if listening. And then I saw it: a shimmer, faint and undeniable, the same kind I’d glimpsed when Father had opened the chest. It curled, barely visible around her fingertips for a fleeting second, but it was enough.

I backed away before she could turn and notice me, my pulse pounding in my ears. A chill swept through me that had nothing to do with the drafty halls. This wasn’t the behavior of a disoriented woman searching for a misplaced trinket, nor one curious about history.

She washunting magic.

Just who was this woman in my father’s palace, and what had I let her into my heart to do?

CHAPTER 15

LYSANDRA

Istared in awe at the shimmer of power pulsing in my palm. It had been so long since I’d last held magic in its raw form, yet no matter how much time passed, I could never forget its familiar sensation—the subtle hum against my skin, the way it threaded through my veins like liquid light, the ache it stirred deep inside of quiet, impossible relief, like coming home after a long and bitter exile.

The little pool of magic I cradled wasn’t much, barely a handful, not enough for anything more than the simplest of spells…not that I would be casting much in my weakened state until I fully recovered. Still, it wasmine. I’d found in an obscure corner of the palace and I sensed more waited nearby, lingering just beyond my reach. I would collect it bit by bit, for the more power I gathered, the more havoc I could render to make Eldoria pay.

The thought rang hollow in my mind. Not long ago, it had been my driving force, but now the familiar desire for vengeance that had once sustained me through my sleepless nights andlonely days didn’t rise to meet the magic now blooming in my palm. The old script of fury had gone curiously silent, the lines forgotten before they could reach the stage.

Instead, other imaginings graced my thoughts in their place—not in using magic for fire and retribution, but the enchantment and wonder I’d once dreamed about. Wondrous daydreams came unbidden, taking a life of their own: a garden that bloomed only beneath our joined hands, a song woven in a folded dinner napkin that sang a melody only he would recognize, conjured snow during a summer stroll for the sole purpose of seeing him smile.

Useless. Sentimental. Dangerous.

I shook my head sharply to snap out of these foolish fantasies. There were far better uses for my power, the most pressing at the moment being to repair the memory spell on Gwendolyn. Her reappearance threatened to upend everything. If I didn’t act quickly, her interference would rob me of what precious time remained in my courtship to the prince, time to fulfill my purpose before it all slipped through my fingers. I needed to remember why I was here, the truths it was my purpose to uncover.

The moment Callan had left my bedside to answer his father’s summons, I’d seized the chance to resume my search for the magic hidden within the palace. With the real princess caught in her unwitting masquerade as a goose girl just beyond the gates, I had to make use of every moment before everything unraveled.

I waited only until his footsteps faded before rising. My limbs trembled from weakness, every step unsteady, every struggling breath a reminder of how much power I’d expended to repair the memory charm.

Myst padded silently beside me as we slipped into the corridor, sconces casting flickering shadows across the coldstone floor. I kept one hand on the wall for balance—my legs still ached from the collapse, and the cursed seal on my palm throbbed with a low, angry heat.

---