Page 61 of Stolen Magic

But I wasn’t convinced. That name,Lysa, clung to something inside me, some locked chamber of memory just beyond reach. I desperately wanted to find the key and see what secrets lay in wait inside…even as I was afraid to.

“She has fire in her eyes,” I murmured, more to myself. “She seems like a strong person.”

Gwendolyn didn’t immediately respond, her expression tightened, almost resigned. “Would you like to walk with me?” The question was gentle, but in her voice I heard a deeper plea—she wasn’t just asking for a stroll, she was asking for me to choose her.

“Like we used to?” But even as I voiced the question I sensed that other than our stroll this morning, we hadn’t done this together before.

But I didn’t rememberwhatwe used to do instead. Despite everything we'd shared through correspondence and our interactions through various court functions since her arrival, our courtship felt like performing a play in someone else’s costume, reciting lines I’d never rehearsed. She was lovely, kind, gracious…yet for reasons I couldn’t explain there seemed to be an impenetrable barrier between us, the sense that we were not meant to be.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I need some time.”

Gwendolyn nodded, her expression unreadable. “I understand.”

But I wasn’t sure either of us truly did.

Days passed.I had hoped that with time the dissonance between us would fade with familiarity, but despite the hours we spent together, our courtship felt trapped in a standstill. The dreams that haunted my nights only made it worse. Every morning I awoke with fragments of something I should remember—soft laughter, warm light, the brush of fingers against mine beneath the falling rain, her warmth pressed against my side as we shared a cloak beneath a grey sky. The fleeting details came like shards of light piercing through fog, always just out of reach yet too vivid to dismiss.

I often found myself retracing the palace halls with no real destination. I searched the solar, the terrace, the library, even the kitchens, wandering like a man haunted, chasing memories that refused to surface…until one finally did.

I stood in the alcove beside the western hall next to a vase of violets, their sweet fragrance lingering faintly. I stared at the delicate curve of their purple petals, reliving a recollection of handing a bouquet—not to my fiancée, but to her handmaiden who wore a simple hand-carved pendant. I blinked hard, but it didn’t dispel the strange vision.

I’d done my best to stay away from her, but this was too important to ignore. Drawn by questions and a hidden need I couldn’t explain, I began my search, certain that she held the answers that eluded me. Only then could I silence these persistent phantoms and finally give my fiancée the devotion she deserved.

I searched the palace for over an hour, following some unseen thread of instinct until I found her—not in the ornate court gardens, but in the secluded apothecary grove behind theconservatory rarely visited by nobles, where the herbs I had cultivated, which I had never shown anyone before, grew wild.

Warmth engulfed me when I spotted her, bent over and pruning plants known for their magical properties. She froze when I said her name but didn’t look up.

“I know you claim we haven’t met,” I said, stepping closer. “But I remember you.”

Her breath caught but she remained still. Whatever had transpired between us, she was certainly not indifferent—she clearly remembered me too.

“It’s scattered,” I continued. “Like pieces of a dream. But Idoremember—the lilacs, the warm milk, the way you looked at me beneath the storm.”

After a breath, she slowly straightened and turned to face me, her eyes shimmering with sorrow. “Callan…”

The feeling that enveloped me upon hearing her speak my name was indescribable, bringing with it a truth I knew not by knowledge, but by instinct.

“You erased it.” The words emerged quietly, without accusation, just ache. It felt ridiculous to voice this fantastical possibility out loud, but the moment I did, the sense of the truth I had been searching for for days surrounded the words, clearing some of the fog I’d been living in.

For a moment she simply stared, eyes wide with fear…before it softened into something far more painful. Resignation filled her sigh.

“I am so tempted to lie, but I am tired of hiding behind my shield of deceit, especially with you. I resolved to face the future with all I am…even the broken parts.”

Her voice wavered, rough with an underlying pain I felt an inclination to protect her from. But there was strength in her too, one I recognized now in every memory that stirred.

With a wavering breath she determinedly lifted her chin. “As much as I yearn to deny it, I cannot. It’s true: I erased your memory. It was the only way to make things right.”

Disbelief seized my voice. I could barely breathe. For days I had questioned my sanity and doubted my own heart, only for it to finally make a twisted, impossible kind of sense.

My questions tumbled out in a rush.

“Why?” I stepped closer, my voice hoarse. “Why would you take my memory from me? Fromus?”

She swallowed hard. “Because it wasn’t mine to keep.”

My chest ached, the longing acute despite the memories remaining faint. “But itwasreal, wasn’t it?”

Her silence was answer enough. Tears welled in her eyes. “It was the truest thing I’ve ever known,” she whispered. “And I gave it up so you could live without the burden of my lies, Gwendolyn could reclaim what was hers, and I could become someone better than the girl who came here for vengeance.”

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