Page 47 of Stolen Magic

This wasn’t a connection with the imposter I portrayed, but with the witch hidden behind the mask. The realization stirred something fragile in my chest—an ache I wasn’t ready to identify, even as I couldn’t help but cradle it closer, unwilling to let it go. I was supposed to be keeping him at arm’s length, not becoming the victim of his manipulations against my sealed heart.

But here I stood beside a boy who also loved magic, moonleaf, and the quiet language from a garden. For the first time since I stepped into this stolen life, I no longer felt like an imposter wrapped in borrowed silks—I feltseen, a girl who had finally been offered something real I didn’t know if I possessed the strength to give up.

His hand shifted, brushing a stray petal from my sleeve. The touch was fleeting, hardly more than a whisper, but it stole my breath all the same.

“You have a piece of moss in your hair,” he murmured, voice hushed, as if he too didn’t want to shatter the fragile stillness between us we’d unknowingly created. He reached up slowly, giving me time to pull away.

I didn’t. Instead, I allowed his fingers to lightly caress my temple, plucking the moss free. For a heartbeat longer than necessary, he lingered—his touch gentle, almost reverent.

I didn’t dare move. The air between us thrummed with unspoken words. My pulse beat erratically as I looked up and found his gaze, already locked on mine. I saw the same tension reflected there—the war between sense and longing. Whatever memories I’d buried with magic hadn’t erased the fragile pull between us.

“I’ve never met anyone like you,” he murmured.

My breath caught. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”

His mouth curved upwards. “It is. You’re different than the rest of the court—not only do you not treat me as a prince, but you’re full of puzzles and contradictions, like the most enthralling mystery I can’t stop trying to solve. And sometimes I get the impression you’re trying to solve me also, and that despite how short a time we’ve known each other, you can already see me in ways no one else does.”

I didn’t know whether to feel joy or guilt, but before I could choose between the conflicting emotions, he leaned in, close enough that I could feel his warmth, close enough that a single breath would close the distance between us.

My pulse pounded but I stood motionless, afraid the slightest shift would shatter the fragile stillness between us that I never wanted to break. He leaned closer—just a few inches more andour lips would brush. Rather than lean away as I should, I found myself standing on tiptoe to bridge our remaining distance.

A sharp pulse of magic brushed against my skin, static laced with warning that forced us apart. A raindrop struck my cheek, followed by another—slow at first, but gradually growing heavier as the warm hush of twilight gave way to a sudden patter of rain.

Callan blinked up at the churning grey sky. “I didn’t think rain was in the forecast.”

I didn’t answer. My senses had already caught the faint shimmer of power in the air and contained in each raindrop. This was no natural storm.

I turned sharply. Myst crouched near the hedges, her silver-tipped ears twitching with satisfaction. Magic clung to her fur like mist, shimmering faintly before vanishing into the chilling air. I studied the intricate threads of the spell that vibrated through the air, carefully peeling back each layer until I recognized both the enchantment and the power of its caster.

The storm washerdoing, as if she’d manipulated the elements to prevent our almost kiss. My fingers brushed my lips—untouched, but tingling all the same. He’d been so close, too close…and I had let him. I told myself it had been just a momentary lapse in judgment, a performance taken too far. But my trembling hands betrayed me, as did the ache that lingered in my heart like an echo of something I hadn’t meant to feel.

I had almost kissed him. And worse, I hadwantedto. Not for the sake of the mission, or as a vengeful means to manipulate him, but because for a single, foolish heartbeat, I had stopped pretending. At first, I felt gratitude for Myst’s interference…but that feeling was quickly swallowed by a scorching fury previously exclusive towards Eldoria—as if Myst was the true mastermind orchestrating the deception behind the scenes.

I yearned to capture the possibility my familiar’s calculated betrayal had stolen but the moment had passed, shattered likea reflection rippling in water. But I clung to the echo of it, imagining a continuation of that beautiful, broken scene. If Myst hadn’t stopped us and Callan had leaned in just a breath closer…I might’ve done something far more dangerous than lie.

CHAPTER 17

Rain blurred our vision as we hurried along the mossy garden path, our footsteps muffled beneath the turret. Thunder rumbled overhead, low and insistent, urging us to seek shelter. Callan draped his cloak around my shoulders and guided me to a nearby gazebo, half-concealed behind a bramble hedge. I didn’t resist, too shaken by what had nearly happened…and what hadn’t.

He ushered me beneath the overhang; the sharp patter of rain drummed against the sloping roof overhead that offered a welcome haven from the downpour. Droplets slid down his brow and jaw as he glanced at me, his expression tightening when he noticed my slight shiver.

“You’re freezing. We should return to the palace…unless you want to stay here a little longer?” At my nod, he reached for the edges of his cloak and awkwardly wrung it out before settling it more snugly around my shoulders. “My apologies, it’s not exactly dry anymore, but the inside should still be warm.”

The cloak still retained his heat. I gratefully tugged it closer, just as another tremor passed through him. He tried to mask it, but I’d already noticed.

In that moment, I fully realized how much I’d selfishly taken from him—his kindness, his protection, his trust—all without offering anything in return. I couldn't undo the lies that had brought me here or change my past mistakes, but I could still choose what I did with what remained.

With a quiet breath, I stepped closer and wordlessly drew one side of the cloak around him, sharing it between us. He stilled. “You don’t have to?—”

“I want to,” I said. The cloak wasn’t quite large enough to cover us both from this distance, so I inched even closer.

His breath caught. “Is this really alright?” he asked.

I nodded, unable to speak. The storm wasn’t the only thing that made the world feel hushed and breathless.

Callan studied my tight expression with his usual quiet attentiveness. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “About…earlier. I almost—I shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

My heart twisted. His worry was understandable, given the distance I’d always gone to great lengths to maintain—distance I now wished I could erase entirely.

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