Page 63 of Stolen Magic

I pressed my forehead against the cool wood. Only then did I let myself breathe, each inhale coming uneven and sharp. Shame twisted deep in my chest. What had I done? I never should have allowed myself that stolen moment with him. I could still feel the warmth of his hand cradling my cheek, still hear the reverent tremble in his voice when he spoke my name.

For days, I had prepared myself for indifference, even hatred, emotions which might have been easier to bear. Instead he had looked at me not only with acceptance and forgiveness, but love—and that was the cruelest mercy of all. Worse still, despitethe spell I’d cast and all I’d tried to take from him, his heart remembered enough to haunt us both.

I hated how much I wanted to give it all back.

But I knew I couldn’t. That was the price I had chosen to pay. Our story had ended the moment I took the memories from him. His forgetting was the cost of my penance, to let him go and give him a life unburdened by lies, and to provide Gwen with the future that had always been rightfully hers.

Still, try as I might, I couldn’t forget the way his eyes searched mine, as if they already knew every truth I tried to bury.

I sank to the ground and drew my knees to my chest, the ache inside me too vast to contain. My magic trembled beneath my skin, responding to the unfurling chaos of emotion. I glanced down at the violet swirl rising from my palm, marveling at the untethered power I could now summon at will.

The seal that had marked my skin and blocked my magic for the past decade was gone. In the moment I had chosen love and integrity over vengeance—giving up my claim to the prince and returning his memories of his true fiancée—it had simply vanished, as if the curse had lost its purpose. This most difficult choice I had ever made hadn’t been about surrender or defeat, but about becoming the person I was meant to be, even at the cost of everything I wanted.

My one solace as I grieved my lost relationship with Callan was the rediscovery of my magic and experimenting with my newfound power. Myst offered quiet guidance as I slowly relearned the spells that Mother had once begun to teach me, stretching my abilities like a neglected muscle.

Every day I took out the glowing phial I had found within the Eldorian palace, the vessel that pulsed faintly with Mother’s magic. I spent hours tracing the runes carved along its surface, watching the soft light bleed through the delicate seams thatremained stubbornly closed. Though I didn’t yet possess the ability to access it, I hoped that one day I would be able to unlock my birthright. Until then, poured myself into study and serving Gwen.

Yet even the magic I’d long craved couldn’t fill the void left by Callan’s forgetting. I rocked gently where I sat on the ground, trying to wrestle the pain into stillness. I whispered a calming incantation, but the words caught in my throat, as if some small, stubborn part of me didn’t want my heartache to fade—the only remaining thread to the love I’d surrendered that would remain forever at a distance—as if clinging to the pain of the love I’d surrounded was the only way to hold onto what I had let go.

I had come to Eldoria to reclaim what was lost; instead I found something far more precious that I would trade every ounce of power to keep. Somehow, in the unraveling of my schemes, I’d found the girl I thought had died long ago—the one who still knew how to feel.

And now, I didn’t know who I was—the girl who had woven her life from vengeance, or the woman who had learned how to love despite it.

With Callan, I had touched something real…and it had almost undone me.

I reached for the pendant at my throat—the hand-carved token from our courtship I couldn’t bear to part with—and let my fingers trace the lovingly sanded surface. In a life of borrowed names and stolen purpose, it was the only thing that felt truly mine, a remnant from weeks that now felt like a faraway dream. I had thought I could be strong, but when it came to him, I felt anything but.

I’d known from the beginning that the best course for everyone hurt by the destruction caused by my choices and actions would be to leave. But even though staying was a mistake, my heart had been too weak to resist Gwen’sgenerous invitation. I had expected shackles, exile, even a public denouncement denouncing me as a traitor before I was dragged in disgrace from the kingdom…or even executed.

I braced myself for it all…but none of it came.

After I had lifted the spell and restored her memories, she graciously listened to my full confession—my full deception, my impoverished past, my search for the stolen magic that had once flowed through our bloodline and the crown’s role in silencing it, the vow I had made to uncover the secrets buried in the royal vaults, and as much as I dared with the courtship that had unfolded between me and her intended…how my plan had changed the day a crown prince smiled at me like I was worth seeing.

When I finished, I braced for the princess’ reaction. Though sorrow shadowed her expression, she accepted my confession without reproach…and even helped me devise a plan for reclaiming the role I had usurped, since it would doubtless create a stir to have her arrive and claim her title.

After Callan had departed with a promise to join her for dinner, Gwen found me sitting on the bank of the stream watching the geese. As we walked to the palace together, she helped me carefully craft the speech I feared I’d never have the courage to give. With her steady presence at my side, I pushed past my dread and requested an immediate audience with the king.

To my surprise and quiet dismay, the king responded to my request. Within half an hour, the heavy doors to the throne room groaned open.

For all my desires to do the right thing, fear still cinched my pounding heart to face the king and whatever punishment he deemed fit for my crimes, but Gwen stood beside me in quiet solidarity, lending her strength. With her support I fought to still my trembling as we were ushered into the throne room, whereHis Majesty sat with Lord Velgrin—unfortunately now fully recovered from his illness.

“Your Highness,” Gwen began after a polite curtsy.

“Who are you?” the king interrupted brusquely.

She blinked in surprise at his tone but lifted her chin. “I am Princess Gwendolyn, and this is my handmaiden, Lysa.”

A moment of impressive silence reigned, while the king stared in disbelief and Lord Velgrin watched shrewdly, as though trying to guess my motives.

“Handmaiden?” the king thundered. “This entire time my son has been courting a mere servant? What is the meaning of this?”

Gwen waited for his outburst to cease, the appearance of calm. Despite my escalating anxiety, I tried to mimic her cool presence. “It is a complicated tale, beginning with my illness when she stepped into my place as I was unable to carry out my duties as princess.”

Lord Velgrin raised his eyebrows but said nothing. The king snorted. “How is it even possible that my son would not recognize his fiancée? The two of you look nothing alike.”

I stepped forward, swallowing hard against the lump rising in my throat. The truth burned on my tongue, bitter and terrifying, but it was mine to speak. Despite every instinct screaming for me to run, the need to atone was stronger.

“Magic was involved,” I shakily confessed, my voice barely above a whisper. “And magic is still at work. I altered Prince Callan’s memories to think I was the true princess, but when I undid that spell…he no longer remembers any of his time with me. To allow him to carry on his engagement with Princess Gwendolyn, we request that I be allowed to keep his memory of me erased.”

---