Page 67 of Stolen Magic

She met my eyes, her gaze unwavering. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, Lysa. When the truth came to light I told myself I had every reason to walk away, but every time I looked at you, I saw the girl who was my friend first. The one who sat with me when I felt alone, provided comfort and advice, and brought me so much joy. A friend who’s still trying—perhaps not perfectly, but earnestly—not to repeat her past. Your love for him is not a crime.”

“It feels like one.”

She gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. “There’s no need to continue carrying your guilt like a burden of penance and punishing yourself. You don’t have to be forever bound by the belief that everything you’ve felt or done is a mistake.”

“But I don’t want to lose you,” I said, barely audible. “Not again.”

“You haven’t, and you won’t. I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Gratitude swelled. We sat like that for a long time, side by side, watching the last light fade from the sky. No promises were made, no solutions offered—just presence and understanding. And for the first time in days, I didn’t feel alone in my sorrow.

Even if I would always long for the boy I had given up everything for and never stop loving him, I hadn’t lost everything: at least I still had the friend who knew my flaws and stayed anyway.

We remained together until she rose for another of her courtship outings with the prince. When she returned later that night, she looked…changed, lighter somehow, as if a weight had slipped free from her shoulders.

She offered no explanation, simply squeezed my hand with quiet warmth and whispered, “All will be well.”

The following morning,an attendant appeared during breakfast. “His Highness requests your presence.”

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe. My fingers curled tighter around the porcelain rim of the cup before I shakily stood. I struggled to banish the familiar flutter that always stirred at the sound of his name. The summons could meananything, likely a report of my magical progress rather than a discussion of a more personal nature.

Gwen stopped me near the doorway to carefully arrange a strand of my hair that had fallen loose before motioning me on. Soft dawn spilled through the curtained windows as I made my way through the corridors in a blur. The rustle of servants going about their duties and the distant chime of the spire seemed strangely muted, as if the palace itself was holding its breath.

I followed the attendant to a small sunroom overlooking the eastern gardens. Callan stood by the window, sunlight illuminating the edge of his profile. His hair was tousled, his expression unguarded, making him look less like the prince I bowed to and more like the man I remembered from my dreams.

He turned when I entered. “Thank you for coming.”

I dipped a curtsy, the words catching behind the lump in my throat. “You asked for me?”

He motioned towards the chair, inviting me to sit. I hesitated for half a beat before obeying. I folded my clammy hands in my lap, trying to still their nervous tremble. “Do you wish for an update on my magical studies?”

He shook his head as he settled in the seat across from me. “No, although Serephine tells me you are progressing well. I wish to discuss a more personal matter.”

I stilled, uncertain whether I was strong enough for whatever conversation lay ahead. But the chance to be near him held me fast, binding my heart to keep me there.

He didn’t immediately speak; his gaze held mine, studying me in that warm and gentle in the way I’d fiercely missed, as though searching for something he was desperate to find, even after all this time.

“Gwen and I spoke at length last night.”

My heart leapt, recalling her strange quietness the evening before. “Is she all right?”

“She’s been struggling…as, admittedly, have I. We’ve both harbored doubts for some time, despite our best efforts. But last night, we finally spoke honestly without duty weighing our every word.” He exhaled. “We finally realized that, whatever admiration we hold for one another, and whatever we hoped might grow between us…we aren’t what the other needs.”

A swell of emotion rose, painful in its intensity. I swallowed. “I see.”

He slowly stood, as if afraid to break whatever spell lingered in the quiet morning air. “It would be easy to go through with the match anyway, to marry for the sake of politics or peace, as expected. But I don’t want her to sacrifice her happiness to live a life that would always feel like exile, nor spend mine trying to coax something into bloom that was never meant to flower…especially when my heart lies elsewhere.”

His eyes found mine. In them, I saw no judgment, only quiet, aching admiration. My breath caught, and suddenly the room felt too small for the fragile force of what stirred between us.

“I’ve tried to ignore it,” he continued, more softly now. “Tried to be honorable, to keep my distance. But my thoughts keep drifting towards someone who has walked a far harder path than I ever knew, who has given all of herself to atone, who has remained strong and resilient even beneath the weight of her guilt, who has never once demanded forgiveness as she continuously strives to be better…even while watching someone she loved belong to another.”

My heart lifted in what could only be described as hope. His gaze didn’t waver, but softened with the look of a man offering something fragile and real.

“I know we don’t know everything about each other,” he continued. “I don’t want to rush anything, but if you’re willing, I’d like the chance to truly discover the real you and see if together we might build something new.”

I stared at him, heart thudding wildly. Thoughts spun too fast to catch, emotions rising and crashing like waves in a storm. I had dreamed of this moment but I’d never dared hope for it…and now here it was, real and terrifying in its tenderness.

He was offering me something I had never dared ask for—more precious than forgiveness or even absolution: a future. Could I let myself reach for it?

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