Page 19 of Stolen Magic

“It’s not that…” But his hesitation lingered, deepening my suspicion—the topic of Eldoria and the magic it had stolen were clearly ones he was reluctant to discuss.

“Unless I understand your hesitation, I’m afraid I might fear the worst.” I lowered my gaze in a soft, downcast look I hopedwould resemble hurt. Whether Prince Callan was desperate to earn my favor or was truly as soft-hearted as he appeared, I knew such a performance would be effective.

As I expected, concern overtook his features—an expression I was already becoming familiar with. He leaned forward slightly, voice earnest. “Forgive me, I meant no offense. I agree—what we discussed in our letters is far too important to ignore. I fully intend to revisit it at some future date, or now if you prefer. It’s just…we are to be married. I know we’ll have a lifetime to discuss important matters, but I’d like to begin getting to know the woman who will be my wife.”

Even midst his shyness his eagerness was plain, a reaction I might have found endearing…if I believed it sincere. But I didn’t. It seemed I wasn’t the only one seeking information, only his desire was hidden beneath the polished guise of nurturing our relationship. A clever ploy, albeit a transparent one, and one I was more than a match for.

I offered a strained smile. “In the weeks before our wedding I would like nothing more than to converse with you at length about any topic you wish to discuss, especially those that pertain to you and our future together.”

I reached out to touch his arm, hoping he found the gesture reassuring even beneath my tense fingers. Unlike when he’d touched me he didn’t flinch or pull away. Instead, he stared at my hand with a deepening blush that rose across his cheeks, reaching the tips of his ears.

When he finally met my gaze, his eyes shone with a new emotion—raw and sincere—that made my heart pound in warning. I couldn’t afford any unnecessary attachment from my victim; if I was wrong about his intentions and he took my words as genuine, it would unravel everything.

The thought struck hard, leaving me breathless beneath the weight of my own deception. In the quiet of our privateconversation, there was nothing to distract me from the strange storm of emotions spinning inside me—emotions I couldn’t afford to feel, lest I forget my purpose.

I fought to steady my voice. “As much as I’d like to become better acquainted, perhaps it can wait until after the feast. The long day has left me quite hungry.”

He blinked, clearly surprised, but recovered quickly, his usual accommodating smile returning. “Of course, if you’re sure you’re up for it.”

He stood and extended his hand. Even though I had braced for the touch, the moment his fingers wrapped around mine, I was unprepared for the sensation as his warmth enfolded me as if in embrace.

I let go as soon as politeness allowed and accepted his arm instead, a connection that offered much-needed distance from the intimacy that for some strange reason caused my heart to pound uncomfortably.

I left Myst sleeping in a patch of sunlight and followed the prince’s escort to the dining hall. The grand doors swung open at our arrival, revealing a scene of opulence. An extravagant meal had been laid out across a long banquet table—lavish dishes I’d only dreamed of in the days when hunger had gnawed at my ribs; even Princess Gwendolyn’s family could never have afforded such luxury. Nobles and dignitaries from the court were also in attendance, draped in silks and jewels, their smiles polished and predatory. But it was the figure at the head of the table who turned my blood cold.

The king of Eldoria.

Seated beneath an ornate banner bearing Eldoria’s crest, he watched the hall with quiet command. Our eyes met just for a breath and something primal flared in my chest. I quickly focused my attention on the table, unable to look at the man whosymbolized my past decade of suffering. I was still too shaken from our last interaction to face him now.

“Are you all right?” Prince Callan asked softly, his voice a soft undertone beneath the clamor of the hall and the melodious music performed by a string quartet. I nodded quickly, masking my tremor beneath a polite smile.

He didn’t inquire further, but he kept his hand near the small of my back as he guided me forward to the high table and helped me with my chair.

“The chefs prepared a few traditional dishes from your homeland tonight. I thought it might help you feel more at ease.”

“Thank you, that’s very thoughtful.” The words tasted bitter. Regardless of the necessity of maintaining appearances, I hated offering even the smallest compliment to the royal family of Eldoria.

Prince Callan took his seat beside me and the king flicked a jewel-studded finger to signal for the first course to be served. The food was exquisite—rich and artfully prepared, a symphony of flavors I had once dreamed about experiencing during poverty —but each bite turned to ash on my tongue. Even when my favorite boysenberry tart appeared on my plate, a delicacy I hadn’t tasted in more than a decade, I couldn’t summon my appetite.

The prince, ever attentive, ensured every detail was to my liking—from the distance of my chair from the table for perfect comfort as I ate, to the selection of wine in my glass, even requesting second helpings of “Princess Gwendolyn’s” favorites that she must have mentioned in her letters. His efforts should have been flattering, yet they left me uneasy; I couldn’t stop wondering whether each thoughtful gesture masked a strategy, an attempt to bring me under Eldorian control without a struggle.

Throughout the meal, he engaged me in light conversation, his questions careful and never too probing, skillfully crafted to draw out my opinions without seeming intrusive. Despite his occasional moments of shyness, he navigated courtly conversation with ease…which only stoked my suspicion that his blush, awkward pauses, and bashfulness were nothing more than a carefully honed performance.

At the meal’s conclusion, the prince began introducing me to key members of the court. His hand returned to rest lightly against my back, whether in reassurance or control I couldn’t say. Each exchange was a diplomatic performance, a dance of words and smiles.

I felt the tingle of magic before noticing the man I’d seen on the dais before, and turned to see him approaching. Prince Callan nodded respectfully but a little stiffly.

“This is Lord Velgrin, the head royal mage and my father’s advisor,” he told me.

“Delighted to make your acquaintance,” the man said in a low, resonant voice as he bowed over my hand. Every instinct screamed at me to retreat before he discovered my secrets, but I forced myself to stand my ground, pretending I was unaware of the magical essence surrounding him. After a long, scrutinizing glance he nodded and moved on. I drew an involuntary breath of relief before turning to the next guest with a strained smile.

Playing the role of Princess Gwendolyn felt like wearing a second skin: tight, suffocating, and impossible to remove. Guilt twisted like a blade every time I was forced to respond to her name, growing more unbearable whenever I thought of my first friend whom I’d so recently betrayed.

Prince Callan remained a steady presence, the epitome of kindness and patience as he whispered names and important details before each introduction, explained customs, and ensured I was never left adrift in the sea of courtly etiquette.Every act of kindness chipped away at the walls I’d built around my heart, forcing me to rebuild them over and over if I had any hope of fighting against the relentless forces of the tiring, confusing battle raging within.

I managed to suppress my emotions for most of the exhausting evening, but after he gently corrected me for confusing a duke with a baron for the second time, my emotionless mask faltered. “If I survive this night without accidentally offending someone powerful enough to have me beheaded, you will have my lifelong gratitude.”

His startled laugh at my sarcastic mutter caught me off guard. I caught myself watching him, head tilted back, eyes bright with a genuine joy I seemed to have forgotten. How could he seem so authentic? It was disarming…yet for a fleeting moment, I wanted believe it was real.

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