Page 45 of Stolen Magic

The words were nearly identical to the first time he’d spoken them several days ago, only now they felt both more tender colored by all I was growing to feel for him…and more painful, because I wanted them to be directed at me, not towards the princess I was impersonating.

The soft eagerness lighting his expression was the same as when we had first stood in this alcove together. But while I had experienced that moment with him once before, thanks to my magic it had become a memory that was now mine alone. For the first time in my life I felt a stab of resentment towards my powers that had made this loss both possible and necessary.

If this moment was gone…what others had I unintentionally taken?

Magic tingled faintly along my skin as he led me deeper into the glade. At its heart, a pool shimmered beneath the lantern glow, surrounded by flowerbeds of pale, moon-kissed blooms, their petals unfolding like stars; I marveled at the breathtaking sight, just as I had the first time.

“Moonleaf.” The word fell from me like a prayer.

“I thought you might miss the flowers from your kingdom,” he said softly. “I know how strange it must be, leaving everything familiar behind.”

The tenderness in his voice pierced deeper than it had the first time he’d bestowed this tender gesture, for now I knew that for all my earlier cynicism, he meant every word.

I reverently caressed the velvety petals between my fingers. “Did I ever tell you what moonleaf means in my kingdom?” I asked, voice barely more than a whisper.

I swallowed the ache that rose as he shook his head.

“According to legend, long ago a young woman promised the man she loved that she would wait for his return when he left to fight in a war. He never returned, but no one could tell her whether he had been killed or taken prisoner, so she was determined to keep her promise and refused to marry anyone else in case he came home. Decades later she died, and the following night when the moon rose, these flowers bloomed over her grave. So the story states that these blossoms grow wherever a vow of the heart is made and kept.”

This conversation was vastly different than the one that had filled the forgotten memory; I hoped that by changing it, I could make it all the more real.

His eyes lit. “A vow of the heart…that reminds me, I have something for you.” Just as he had during the first time we’d lived this memory, Callan reached inside his cloak pocket…only to still when his fingers met nothing.

Confusion furrowed his expression as he patted his other pockets in search for something he couldn’t find, considering he had already given me his gift—the pendant I now constantly wore around my neck due to my subconscious need to remain close to him.

His gaze caught on the delicate chain around my neck, eyes filled with an unspoken question. I hesitated for only a moment before reaching for the pendant and drawing it from where it rested, hidden beneath the fabric of my gown. I knew showing it to him would only deepen his bewilderment, but I was desperate to awaken the lost memory magic had stolen from both of us.

His brow furrowed as he stared at it, eyes tracing the familiar curve of the carved fleur-de-lis. Slowly, he lifted his widened gaze to mine. “I don’t understand…when did I give that to you?”

The question hung between us. I opened my mouth, but nothing came. How could I possibly explain that he had given it to me during another version of this very moment—one he had forgotten because my magic had stolen it from his mind?

But I was tired of lies. I wanted to be honest with him…even knowing that the truth might take me from him forever. I drew a steadying breath. “You gave it to me the first time you showed me the moonleaf blossoms,” I said softly. “You told me you carved it yourself, and included the sweet promise to become my husband in more than just name.”

I held my breath and waited, hoping the memory might stir the way his recollections of Gwendolyn had roused from the spell’s deep sleep, desperate for the moments we’d spent together to remain a part of him. He was silent for a long moment, his brow furrowed in concentration as he fought to push past the fog blocking the memories from view, as if searching through a room with no light.

My hopes dashed when finally shook his head, shoulders falling slightly. “I’m sorry. I remember planning to give it to you, but I don’t recall that I ever did.”

I felt the moment slipping, unspooling thread by thread between my fingers. “But it meant something to you, didn’t it?” My voice barely rose above the hush of the wind rustling through the lantern-lit branches. “Even if you don’t remember the moment in detail, doesn’t it feel familiar?”

I heard Myst’s impatient huff as she crouched under a nearby bush, tail twitching in disapproval as I risked uncovering dangerous memories I’d paid dearly to conceal.

Callan looked down at the pendant, fingers brushing the edge with a trembling softness. “It does,” he murmured. “It feels likeI should remember, like there’s a piece missing that’s mine…but every time I try to reach for it, it fades.”

The ache bloomed inside me. I could feel he was close to remembering, but the memory would never fully return unless I undid the very spell I had cast to keep the truth buried.

He noticed my distress and his expression softened. “I feel terrible that I’ve forgotten any moment between us. But even if I don’t remember giving it to you, I’m glad you have it and that it means something to you.”

My throat tightened with the weight of my guilt. “I love it.” It was the first time I’d allowed myself to admit it. At that statement, Myst rose to her feet and stalked towards me, body stiff as she stared at me.

Despite her clear reminder that I was losing track of my mission, I couldn’t regret what I’d said. I did love his gift, just as I was growing to love each moment I’d spent with him, even the memories that no longer belonged to him. But what we were creating in its place felt just as special, like stepping back into a memory—only this time, everything was different. Where suspicion had once guarded my heart, something softer had taken its place, as if I’d been given a second chance—not just to relive the moment, but to finally make it real.

“You said this section of the gardens was created for me,” I said. “But is there a place in the gardens that’s special to you?”

Beside me, Myst’s tail twitched. “Why do you want to know that?” she asked, her tone edged with caution.

The truth felt too fragile to voice, so I didn’t answer.

Hope lit his eyes. “Do you truly want to see it?”

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