Page 27 of Stolen Magic

She startled and spun around, her skirts whispering softly around her ankles. A smile touched her lips—tense and practiced, the same insincerity I’d become all too familiar with in court, an emotion in my foolish fantasies I’d hoped to avoid receiving from her. The resulting disappointment was sharp, and I felt my hopes retreating further.

“Forgive me,” she said smoothly. “When sleep continued to elude me, I thought I’d begin the research we discussed. I’mafraid curiosity and impatience got the better of me. Did I once again forget my place and the royal archives are also forbidden?” She arched an eyebrow in quiet challenge.

I held her gaze, searching her for any thread of truth hidden beneath the easy excuse. Her reason was sound, yet something about it unsettled me, though I couldn’t pinpoint why. My training had taught me to spot cracks in every mask, but I hated the doubt that now shadowed even the simplest interactions. Not everything had to be a test. Just because I was disappointed to have lost a chance at connection didn’t mean I had to find fault in everything she said.

I summoned a smile, invoking as much warmth as I was able despite my lingering uncertainty. “Even though you’ve started your research without me, my offer still stands—I’d be happy to assist however I can.”

Her brief hesitation wasn’t lost on me. “I’m finished with this section,” she said. “Perhaps we could begin on the next shelf.” She turned away too hastily for me to entirely dismiss.

“What are you searching for?” I kept my voice light, casual as my gaze darted towards the shelf she was abandoning.

“Information,” she replied without looking at me. “Though I studied extensively for my new role, I still find gaps in my understanding. I was hoping the palace archives would strengthen my knowledge, especially in regards to Eldoria’s history.”

My posture tightened and I experienced an immature moment of jealousy that for all my efforts to be a good fiancé, she seemed more interested in Eldoria’s history than its crown prince. I forcibly buried the unreasonable disappointment with the reminder that her diligence to her duty was exactly what I had hoped for in a future queen…and doubtless was the only reason she’d agreed to marry a stranger. We still had time—togrow, to forge a deeper connection, to build something real. I just had to be patient.

As I stepped closer, I glanced at the shelf to see which titles had captured her focus:Claimed for Crown and Country,Purification of Rogue Lands,Subduing Wild Magic.

My heart thudded with unease. I was grateful it had beenmewho found her here rather than one of Father’s many spies…or even the king himself.

“Are you interested in magic?” I asked, careful to keep my tone even.

Her eyes widened slightly before she quickly masked the reaction, her face smoothing into practiced poise that made me wonder whether I’d only imagined the flicker of panic. “To the extent that I’m interested in every subject essential for a future queen to know,” she said evenly. “You may recall that I mentioned it in my letters; I am curious to know Eldoria’s viewpoint on the events that occurred between our kingdoms.”

I forced a smile. “I’m glad. The more you know of Eldoria’s past, the more at home you’ll feel here.” I meant it as encouragement—the idea of her settling in and feeling like she belonged caused warmth to envelop my chest.

For some reason the words caused her to stiffen. Her gaze snapped to mine, eyes sharp and almost accusing. “That seems fitting with Eldoria’s history.”

I stared at her for a shocked moment. “What do you mean?” Though I asked in genuine curiosity, my voice taut with concern, which she apparently interpreted as simmering anger.

She straightened with a flash of her eyes. “It’s what you do—assimilate, strip lands of their magic and independence, erase every identity you conquer…including the woman who’s to be your wife.”

The words struck like a slap but she seemed to realize it too late. Her next sentence came in a rush, stumbling over itself in her efforts to repair any offense.

“Forgive me, that’s not what you meant. Of course you only want me to be comfortable in my new home.” But her posture remained tense, defensive…distrustful. She said nothing more, but the accusation lingered in her eyes before she could chase it away.

Something twisted painfully inside me. She didn’t trust me. Worse, she thought of me as a cruel enemy who cared nothing for her but only wanted a fitting queen. It was little wonder that she was guarded.

I drew in a slow breath and stepped closer, but not close for her to feel cornered. “You seem to look for the dagger hidden behind everything I say,” I murmured. “I’m beginning to wonder if you don't trust me.” The words tasted bitter on my tongue.

She didn't offer any denial or reassurance, simply lowered her gaze, pretending sudden fascination with a weathered ledger at her elbow.

I sighed, raking a hand through my hair. “I tried not to notice. I didn’t want to believe my fiancée is so suspicious of me, but it’s becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.” Despite my efforts to maintain my composure, my voice cracked slightly. “If we're ever going to build any relationship before our wedding, we need to talk about it.”

Still she said nothing, and though I was tempted to press her, I dropped the topic. I led her deeper into the archives, giving her space while pretending to browse, letting the silence stretch between us. I hoped the quiet would feel less like confrontation and more like permission, a place she might feel safe enough to confide in me.

The silence only thickened, settling like fog between us, growing heavier with every passing moment. I hated how muchit hurt, how much Iwantedher to trust me, a desire that had nothing to do with alliances or duty. Despite all of Father’s warnings to harden my heart against feelings that had no place in politics, I was only human.

The atmosphere soon grew unbearable. As much as I longed to stay, my presence felt unwanted, even intrusive. The last thing I wanted was to make her uncomfortable. Whatever her claims about research, curiosity, or the hidden reasons for her distrust, her guarded body language indicated my assistance only hindered whatever the actual reason that had brought her to the royal archives.

Even after I dismissed myself my thoughts remained with her. Instead of tending to the list of royal obligations awaiting me, I spent the better part of the morning pacing the corridor outside the library, battling the instincts carved into me since boyhood—protect the sanctity of Eldoria’s histories, guard its kingdom’s secrets…especially the ones rooted in blood.

My father’s haunting warning echoed in my mind, stern and unyielding…but not nearly as loud as the quiet wariness behind her guarded smile that stood between us like a gate, an unwanted obstacle preventing me from my hope of becoming more than strangers bound in an alliance that I couldn’t find the key to.

If I hoped to earn her trust and forge a relationship deeper than our contract, I couldn’t demand it like a crown passed down through bloodlines—I had to be the first to give it freely, even if doing so went against everything I’d ever been taught.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I turned sharply and pushed open the massive oak doors of the archive; they groaned under the weight of time and hesitation. She was still there, hunched over a long table beneath the stained-glass skylight, her head bowed over a crumbling tome. The golden sunlight caughtin her hair, giving her the appearance of something ethereal, almost untouchable.

She looked up at the sound of my approach, spine stiffening with that same guarded wariness that struck something in me, sharp and unrelenting, a barrier I wanted nothing more than to break down. I offered what I hoped was a reassuring smile and held up the key at my belt. “There’s something I want to show you.”

---