Page 25 of Stolen Magic

I needed space, time to think, to retreat and determine how to navigate these uncharted waters before I made an irrevocable mistake I couldn’t undo.

Muttering a vague excuse, I abruptly rose from the table and left him behind. I didn’t dare look back, but I felt his disappointment all the same—like a weight pressing between my shoulders. I hated running away, but worse still, even if I remained…in this moment I had no idea who I was supposed to be if I turned back.

And that thought terrified me more than anything else.

Despite my desire topreserve my cover, I remained in my chambers for the remainder of the day, feigning exhaustion both times Prince Callan came to check on me. I gave my excuses through the locked door, unable to bear seeing him again so soon. Though I could avoid his face, I couldn’t escape the bouquet of violets he’d given me—their scent lingered in the air, a sweetness that had once meant home but now felt like a threat to my resolve.

Several times I started to move them out of my sitting room but couldn’t bring myself to throw them away. As the sun slowly set and the light in my rooms dimmed, I found myself staring at the violets, awash in memories of my childhood, mingled with recollections of Prince Callan’s face as he handed them to me.

Such weakness was disadvantageous. I needed to refocus on the reason I’d infiltrated the royal court and track downthe power that shimmered unseen, my first priority even over revenge…regardless of whether everything else fell apart.

As darkness fell, the bustle of activity gradually faded, until finally I no longer heard even the occasional footsteps of passing servants in the hallways. Drawing my cloak around my shoulders, I cautiously eased my door open and slipped out, followed by my silent feline shadow.

My mother’s magic was hidden somewhere in this palace, and it seemed likely that it was in the chambers of her murderer. Unfortunately, the chambers of the courtiers and advisors were too heavily guarded for me to be able to sneak past, so I would have to find another way to infiltrate them. Instead I searched elsewhere.

The palace felt different beneath the veil of night. The labyrinth of abandoned corridors stretched before me, sconces flickering low against the cold stone walls, shadows deep enough to swallow me whole. They cloaked me as I crept through the silence, following the faint traces of power wherever I could sense them.

For the first time since I had usurped Princess Gwendolyn, I felt a sliver of who I used to be—the girl who moved through the forest like a breath of wind, wild magic humming through her veins.

The further I explored, the stronger the presence of magic became. I sensed it was close, stirring the air like a whisper just out of reach. I let instinct guide me, gliding soundlessly through a lesser-used corridor near the west wing.

From fragments of gossip I’d pieced together from overheard conversations between polished courtiers and loose-tongued servants, I’d learned of old vaults near the royal treasury—sealed since the war, now used as overflow for storage and forgotten treasures. If Eldoria still hoarded the magic it had stolen, there was a chance it would be there.

Myst leapt soundlessly onto the sill beside me as I paused near a window in a shabby hall, her silver tail curling and swishing with quiet anticipation. Her eyes met mine—steady, watchful, and far too knowing. She had already searched the east wing earlier today, slipping through servant halls and forgotten chambers while I kept up my façade at court.

But her efforts had turned up nothing—no trace of hidden magic, no whisper of stolen power…which made this sealed-off wing all the more likely to hold what we were looking for.

Myst gave a soft chuff, as if confirming the unspoken conclusion between us, then flicked her ears forward and turned her gaze to the dark hallway ahead.

“You feel it too, don’t you?” I whispered.

Her pupils narrowed into slits. “It’s faint but it’s here, buried and bound.”

I stroked behind her soft ears. “Follow the trail to where it’s strongest, slipping past the wards if you can. I’ll continue searching this wing.”

Wordlessly she vanished into the dark, her paws making no sound against stone.

I pressed forward, careful to keep to the edges of the torchlight. The closer I drew to the sealed door at the end of the corridor, the stronger the sensation of nearby power became—static humming beneath my skin, like a half-remembered memory I couldn’t quite recall. The seal on my hand pulsed faintly, not in pain this time but in resonance, as if it recognized the magic woven within the ancient stones.

I reached the oak, iron-bound door. Faded runes carved across the arch glimmered faintly, dulled by time. My hand trembled in anticipation as it hovered over the latch.

“Princess?”

I froze. Prince Callan’s voice—soft, confused, and far too close. I wasn’t prepared to face him so soon, especially after he’dcaught me in such a compromising position. I forced calm into my expression before slowly turning to face him.

He stood a few paces away, alone, a single lantern in hand casting flickering light across his face. His brow furrowed in quiet scrutiny, expression unreadable. “What are you doing down here?” he asked in a quiet, guarded voice.

“I couldn’t sleep.” At least that much was true.

“Even so, this part of the palace is off-limits.” An edge of suspicion tainted his usual gentleness. Though wariness was the emotion I had expected from him from the beginning, I missed the warmth from our earlier conversations that I had already grown accustomed to.

I forced a light, practiced laugh, trying to look sheepish. “I got lost. There are so many wings—I must have turned wrong near the tapestry hall.” Though I had been lying to him from our first exchanged letter, this time felt different—because it was the first one I’d given when I wasn’t certain whether he had been lying to me in return.

He stepped closer, lifting the lantern to illuminate my tight and undoubtedly guilty expression. He studied me a moment before shifting his gaze towards the locked door. “This hasn’t been opened in years,” he said. “Not even the servants use this passage. It’s sealed for good reason.” His gaze returned to me, sharper now, too knowing. “You weren’t trying to open it, were you?”

Even though the accusation was wholly deserved, I still flinched. “I told you—I simply got turned around. I was hoping this passageway could lead back to familiar territory.”

A pause stretched between us. I held his gaze, daring him to challenge me. He said nothing, but his eyes flicked to my hand—still hovering too close to the latch. I quickly lowered it. Another long silence, but instead of pressing further, to my dismay Prince Callan let it go…or at least pretended to.

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