Page 14 of Stolen Magic

My hardened heart wasn’t entirely without feeling—part of my motive in changing places while we remained close enough to the border was so Princess Gwendolyn could more easily return to the safety of her home kingdom rather than remain as a stranger in a foreign land, a reassurance that provided added strength for what was to come.

I cast Myst one final uncertain glance, but she merely stared at me with her silvery luminescent eyes, her tail swaying gently. She made no effort to stop me, leaving the conscience I’d suppressed beyond feeling the only force that could possibly prevent what happened.

I went to the adjoining room to wake the princess. For a moment I simply watched her, her face relaxed in restful sleep, oblivious to the plan I was moments away from setting into motion. With a wavering breath I set my candle down on the nightstand and gently shook her awake.

Her eyes fluttered open. For a moment she peered blearily up at me, seeming confused by my presence so late at night. Then she yawned and slowly sat up. “Is something wrong, Lysa?”

I kept my voice low in an effort to mask the nerves underlining my forthcoming lie. “You were tossing and turning. Were you having a nightmare?” In reality the nightmare I spoke of was not one I pretended she’d dreamed, but the one currently unfolding before her unsuspecting eyes.

She blinked in confusion. “I…don’t think so. I was dreaming of my beautiful wedding day that turned out far better than I’ve been imagining. Perhaps I’ve forgotten it.”

I arranged my expression into the humble remorse that I had perfected throughout my sojourn as her handmaiden. “I’m relieved to be mistaken, but I regret disturbing your sleep unnecessarily. Forgive me for acting on my worry.”

Her forgiving smile pierced my heart with impending guilt. “It is no trouble at all. You’re so kind, Lysa. I’m so grateful to have you at my side. You’ve become a true friend.”

I winced at this show of undeserved gratitude. I wasn’t kind at all. Perhaps I’d been once upon a time, when my life had been shades of pastels and innocence rather than the streaks of darkness I’d allowed to corrupt me. That bright, good part of me had died the day I’d lost Mother; at times I often wondered if my old self had ever existed at all.

The teacup containing the forgetfulness brew felt cold and heavy in my hand, a stark contrast to the gentle warmth of the princess sitting across from me. The same previous hesitation that had gripped me while trying to complete my potiontightened my throat once more. My shaking hand rattled the cup on its saucer. Once I handed it to her, there would be no turning back. Did I truly want to do this?

Princess Gwendolyn noticed my tremors and her eyes softened with such sincere concern I hated her for it. “Is something troubling you, Lysa?”

The innocence in her voice pierced my heart like a dagger. I hastily shook my head, not trusting myself to speak lest my wavering voice expose me. I felt a twinge of regret for abusing her trust, but the path I’d chosen left no room for hesitation. I extended the potion; a thick floral scent rose with its curls of steam, stronger than the princess’s usual herbal blends, the only hint of its unusual nature.

“I brewed a new tea from some herbs I gathered since entering Eldoria, to help ease your nerves for the journey ahead.”

She watched me curiously but accepted the cup without hesitation, trusting nature that would be her downfall. I experienced a brief flare of panic the moment the cup passed into her hands. The liquid shimmered ominously under the flickering candlelight; I had to fight the impulse to knock it away.

She breathed in its sweet scent. “It smells delicious. Any concoction that can soothe me would be a miracle tonic; I grow more anxious the closer I come to meeting my fiancé.” Time seemed to slow as she lifted the cup to her lips…and took a delicate sip.

Her expression faltered at once, her brow creasing as her hand flew to her head. “That’s strange…” she murmured. Her eyes clouded with confusion and pain before her body slumped.

Panic surged through me, rousing the conscience I’d thought long buried. I lunged forward to catch her before she could fall. “Princess Gwendolyn!”

Bewilderment filled her eyes as she looked up at me. Her skin had gone pale, her body trembling violently. “Lysa, what’s…what's happening to me?” The fear wrenching her weakened voice awoke a rush of emotions I had diligently suppressed.

The teacup slipped through her weakening grip and shattered on the floor, its broken pieces a mirror of something unraveling inside me. I had tried to walk this path of vengeance untouched by feeling—but the sight of her, so fragile and afraid, tore through me.

With a sinking feeling I realized that my feelings for her had deepened far beyond what I had allowed myself to acknowledge. Unbeknownst to me, somewhere along the way the kindness she continuously bestowed had reached a part of me still capable of being touched, softening my heart just enough for a small portion to be given her. She had become more than a mark in my plan—she had become my friend, my first since Mother’s death.

In that moment, I knew one thing with aching certainty:I didn’t want her to die.

As I eased her back onto the bed, my mind raced with the possibilities—what had gone wrong? Had I miscalculated the potion? Or by some horrible error used the pinch of poisonouscrimsonleafI’d brought along in case of extreme emergency? The thought filled me with a sickening dread. I had never meant to harm her—only to borrow her place for a time.

I took her hand, startled by how cold it felt, how shallow her breathing had become. A tremor of dread and regret overcame me with overwhelming force, the weight of my harmful actions heavier than I was prepared to bear. I hadn’t meant to incur an innocent casualty in the quest for revenge, but seeing her like this I couldn’t deny the possibility that she might unwittingly pay the price for my vengeance…and she had done nothing to deserve it.

I squeezed her hand, a feeble gesture of comfort amid the chaos I had caused. The pain and hatred twisting in my chest felt familiar…only this time I had no enemy to direct it towards other than myself—I had condemned the princess, just as Eldoria had condemned Mother.

I was no different from them.

Princess Gwendolyn’s gaze locked onto mine, eyes swirling with pain…and betrayal. “What—did—you—do—” she rasped, barely able to speak.

I had prepared myself for her anger, for the silent accusation in her gaze—but nothing could have shielded me from the way it pierced straight through my heart, a pain sharper than the burning of my seal when I mixed the potion.

“It’s not poison,” I hastily assured her, praying that I hadn’t made some irreparable mistake that would turn those words into a lie. “I could never kill you. It’s just…a bit of magic.”

At the wordmagicher eyes widened. It was an elusive word spoken now only in hushed stories, as distant as childhood fairytales. I raised my hand and summoned a trembling orb of light. Pain lanced through my palm, but the cost was worth seeing the awe that momentarily flickered in her expression, deeper than the accompanying fear at my illegal activities…but the emotion vanished when my fragile grip on my powers slipped; the light snuffed out, leaving only the echo of what had been.

“Why?” she managed breathlessly.

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