Page 65 of Stolen Magic

I blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I was hoping I could speak to you,” she continued. “I know you intend to leave, but I wanted to ask if you’d stay.”

Disbelief momentarily robbed me of words. “You want me tostay?” I finally managed. “After everything I did?”

She nodded. “When you have time outside your magical duties, I would like you to resume your previous position as my handmaiden.”

For a moment I could only stare in shock. So many questions burned my lips, but I only managed the most pressing one: “Why?I thought I’d be escorted out under armed guard, that you’d have orders to keep me far from you.”

She shook her head. “You weren’t dismissed as a prisoner. I don’t want to lose what little foundation we’ve already built. I want you to return—not as a spy, or a secret princess, or even as my handmaiden…but as my friend.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again, words failing me.

“I’m not excusing what you did,” Gwen said, stepping closer. “But I understand your motive. I see the change in you, the guilt you’ve wrestled with, and your sincere efforts to make amends. In the end that is what matters most to me.” Her voice softened. “I’d like to believe the girl I once called a friend is still in there somewhere.”

Emotion swelled in my chest, tightening my throat.

“I don’t expect it to be easy,” Gwen continued. “I certainly don’t expect you to trust me right away, but with time and patience, I believe we can become become something better than what we once were.”

It was a mercy I never expected. Once, I would have refused the offer without hesitation—remaining in the court I despised had once seemed like the worst fate. But I wasn’t the same girl who’d entered these gilded halls burning with fury and schemes. That girl had died, her ashes replaced by someone softened by mercy and forgiveness, someone who had learned that power was not what I truly valued, and that vengeance could never fill a hollow heart.

Gwen’s grace and friendship had changed everything. Whatever memories I had taken from her, my own remained, including the memory of her trembling hand in mine when we first crossed the border together, her quiet gratitude for a companion in the formidable Eldorian court, and the unlikely kinship that had grown between us. Despite my betrayal, she had still offered me her hand.

Even though my heart ached at the thought of watching the man I loved create a future with someone else, I couldn’t imagine choosing a future apart from the very thing I desired most: to belong. No matter what it cost me, I would remain. Because Gwen had become more than a friend—she was the closest thing I had left to family. In her I saw the version of myself I might have become if I hadn’t allowed my pain to harden my heart.

It wasn’t too late to begin again.

CHAPTER 22

Time passed quietly. Days slipped into weeks as I relearned the rhythms of court and studied magic under the cautious eye of a royal mage—not Lord Velgrin, but Serephine, the powerful and patient woman who’d promised to help me learn to control my released powers.

From time to time, I caught glimpses of the king’s advisor, though he seemed just as eager to avoid me as I was him. In the beginning, I wasn’t sure I could bear to work alongside him—let alone serve in the same court—but time had shifted my perspective. I’d come to know the people of Eldoria and realize they were not my enemies—a brave and kind and resilient people, and they were who I was serving as I studied harness my abilities and master the spell of life.

Though the sight of Lord Velgrin never failed to make me shudder and recall the worst day of my life, I refused to allow bitterness to define me. Callan had promised to depose him as soon as he became king, and with the current king no longer dispatching him to plunder magic from foreign lands and with my work on the spell nearly complete, Velgrin’s days of destruction were at an end…if I could finish what I’d promised to do.

My skills slowly returned like leaves budding after a long, bitter winter. While I initially struggled with using my magic for the kingdom I’d spent my life hating, I chose to serve Callan and the people he would one day lead, not the king and his murderous advisor. Eventually I found peace and even meaning in honing my skill, preparing to one day cast the spell of life. I had once imagined this very life: surrounded by the magic I’d spent years longing for, free from poverty, spending my days with someone becoming more like a sister with each passing day.

But these moments of joy were overshadowed by the agony for the man I couldn’t have. Their courtship unfolded like a slow play, polite and tender. He always offered his arm, smiled when she spoke, and she matched each of his efforts in her gentle, steady way and quiet grace.

Each time I saw Callan with Gwen my heart clenched. I told myself it was enough just to be near him—to catch glimpses of his smile and laughter, to brush past him in the gardens without a word—but those fleeting moments only deepened my longing. Especially when he began to seek me out more often—asking about my studies, or lingering in doorways watching me in the moments when duty and silence won.

Each encounter became a test of my resolve, loyalty I clung to like armor. I was afraid that if I let my guard down, I’d betray them both all over again…but in truth, I was most terrified to allow myself to be happy without him. Some nights when I lay awake with the moonlight glinting off the pendant he’d given me as I traced each wooden curve of the fleur-de-lis, I wondered if I would be strong enough to stay.

The ache of watching him belong to someone else while I did my best to remain loyal in the background hollowed me more with each passing day.

Yet it didn’t take long before I began to see past my own heartache to how the courtship seemed to be affecting Gwen.She had always carried herself with the grace of her crown—soft smiles, kind words, and the compassion and dignity of someone raised to lead.

To my deep concern, I began to notice the subtle cracks in her poise—the way her shoulders slumped when she thought no one was watching; the dark circles beneath her eyes, evidence of too many sleepless nights; how her fingers drifted, almost absently, to the pendant at her throat, clutching it like a lifeline; how often her gaze would go distant, as if searching for something that couldn’t be found within the walls of the palace.

One afternoon, I found her alone in the solar, curled in the window seat with a book open across her lap, though I doubted she’d turned a page in some time. The late sunlight bathed her in a soft gold haze, highlighting the furrow in her brows and the quiet tension in her features.

She looked up as I entered, and though she offered a smile, it didn’t quite reach her weary eyes. She patted the cushion beside her. “Come and sit. You always bring better company than my thoughts.”

I hesitated, then crossed the room and joined her. We’d grown closer these past weeks, much more than I deserved. She no longer treated me like a servant, but as a friend and sister, generosity that made the feelings I harbored all the more unbearable.

She was silent a thoughtful moment. “Do you ever miss home?” she asked softly.

Memories stirred, faded echoes of my mother and a childhood filled with warmth and laughter long since reduced to ash, reminiscences that were now only alive in my heart. “Every day.” Yet somehow, the palace I’d once loathed was beginning to feel less like an enemy fortress and almost like the home I’d lost, something I hadn’t known I could still find…though not without Callan.

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