Page 15 of Stolen Magic (All That Glitters #2)

She watched me curiously but accepted the cup without hesitation, trusting nature that would be her downfall. I experienced a brief flare of panic the moment the cup passed into her hands. The liquid shimmered ominously under the flickering candlelight; I had to fight the impulse to knock it away.

She breathed in its sweet scent. “It smells delicious. Any concoction that can soothe me would be a miracle tonic; I grow more anxious the closer I come to meeting my fiancé.” Time seemed to slow as she lifted the cup to her lips…and took a delicate sip.

Her expression faltered at once, her brow creasing as her hand flew to her head. “That’s strange…” she murmured. Her eyes clouded with confusion and pain before her body slumped.

Panic surged through me, rousing the conscience I’d thought long buried. I lunged forward to catch her before she could fall. “Princess Gwendolyn!”

Bewilderment filled her eyes as she looked up at me. Her skin had gone pale, her body trembling violently. “Lysa, what’s…what's happening to me?” The fear wrenching her weakened voice awoke a rush of emotions I had diligently suppressed.

The teacup slipped through her weakening grip and shattered on the floor, its broken pieces a mirror of something unraveling inside me. I had tried to walk this path of vengeance untouched by feeling—but the sight of her, so fragile and afraid, tore through me.

With a sinking feeling I realized that my feelings for her had deepened far beyond what I had allowed myself to acknowledge.

Unbeknownst to me, somewhere along the way the kindness she continuously bestowed had reached a part of me still capable of being touched, softening my heart just enough for a small portion to be given her.

She had become more than a mark in my plan—she had become my friend, my first since Mother’s death.

In that moment, I knew one thing with aching certainty: I didn’t want her to die .

As I eased her back onto the bed, my mind raced with the possibilities—what had gone wrong?

Had I miscalculated the potion? Or by some horrible error used the pinch of poisonous crimsonleaf I’d brought along in case of extreme emergency?

The thought filled me with a sickening dread.

I had never meant to harm her—only to borrow her place for a time.

I took her hand, startled by how cold it felt, how shallow her breathing had become.

A tremor of dread and regret overcame me with overwhelming force, the weight of my harmful actions heavier than I was prepared to bear.

I hadn’t meant to incur an innocent casualty in the quest for revenge, but seeing her like this I couldn’t deny the possibility that she might unwittingly pay the price for my vengeance… and she had done nothing to deserve it.

I squeezed her hand, a feeble gesture of comfort amid the chaos I had caused. The pain and hatred twisting in my chest felt familiar…only this time I had no enemy to direct it towards other than myself—I had condemned the princess, just as Eldoria had condemned Mother.

I was no different from them.

Princess Gwendolyn’s gaze locked onto mine, eyes swirling with pain…and betrayal. “What—did—you—do—” she rasped, barely able to speak.

I had prepared myself for her anger, for the silent accusation in her gaze—but nothing could have shielded me from the way it pierced straight through my heart, a pain sharper than the burning of my seal when I mixed the potion.

“It’s not poison,” I hastily assured her, praying that I hadn’t made some irreparable mistake that would turn those words into a lie. “I could never kill you. It’s just…a bit of magic.”

At the word magic her eyes widened. It was an elusive word spoken now only in hushed stories, as distant as childhood fairytales.

I raised my hand and summoned a trembling orb of light.

Pain lanced through my palm, but the cost was worth seeing the awe that momentarily flickered in her expression, deeper than the accompanying fear at my illegal activities…

but the emotion vanished when my fragile grip on my powers slipped; the light snuffed out, leaving only the echo of what had been.

“Why?” she managed breathlessly.

Even though it changed nothing, she deserved the truth. “I just need you out of the way…so I can step into your place and marry your fiancé. The Crown Prince of Eldoria and his father are monsters who will destroy you…so I will destroy them first.”

She was far too gentle a soul to survive the ruthless politics awaiting her at the Eldorian palace.

The more I assured myself of this, the more resolve I found to press forward, despite the betrayal I’d just committed.

I could see in her eyes that she didn’t believe my accusations against her fiancé, her innocence not allowing her to think ill of anyone. I felt a duty to correct such na?veté.

My tone hardened, sharpened by years of buried resentment.

“Eldoria stole everything from me…so I will do all within my power to take everything from them in return. That begins with becoming the princess and marrying the crown prince. As the future queen, I will have access to what I need to recover the lost magic and restore it to all those Eldoria has stolen from. It’s the only way to make them pay. ”

I felt no fear in sharing these details; the spell I had cast would soon erase our conversation from her memory.

But I needed to offer some apology and confession to give me the strength for what was to come, a plea for forgiveness she would never remember.

Alleviating at least part of the guilt weighing my conscience was far preferable to betraying her without any explanation at all.

Princess Gwendolyn could no longer speak; she only stared at the clenched fists at my sides and the bitterness twisting my expression.

I stood caught between the necessity of my mission and the growing ache of concern for her.

The plan that had seemed so justified when plotted in the shadows now teetered beneath the weight of her pain.

At last, she slipped into unconsciousness—when the spell would begin reshaping her mind, erasing her identity as Princess Gwendolyn.

My hand trembled as I brushed a strand of hair from her brow, clammy with fever.

I pressed my fingers to her throat and found a faint pulse.

The spell had worked, though not as I had intended… and I hated myself for it.

Myst leapt lightly onto the bed, her luminescent eyes fixed solemnly on the princess. “Will she be all right?” My voice came out weak, barely a whisper.

My cat placed a paw gently against the princess’s cheek, as though checking her condition. After a long pause, she gave a slow nod. Relief washed over me, warm and fleeting. I let it linger for a breath before burying it with the rest of my feelings. There was no room for emotion in what came next.

Though a storm raged within me, my hands were steady as I began the final step.

I undressed the princess with care, treating each delicate garment as though it were spun glass.

One by one, I removed the silks and jewels that marked her royal identity, claiming them for myself.

Last came the pendant, the gift from her beloved fiancé that would confirm my identity as his betrothed.

Its weight settled on my chest as I fastened it around my own neck.

All personal items that might betray my true identity were secured within a small, locked chest—documents, mementos, anything Lysa the handmaiden or Lysandra the witch might have once treasured.

I left the wages I’d earned during my time in the princess’s service on the nightstand beside her, not wanting her to wake destitute.

The pouch held enough to sustain her until my plan was complete.

Though I didn’t dare speak it aloud, I knew deep down I would try to make amends—once Eldoria was dealt with and my magic restored to its rightful place.

For the final touch, I placed the princess’s circlet—a simple band of gold—upon my head, a symbol of her royal status as well as the crown I was about to claim.

I allowed myself a single breath to practice her smile, the tilt of her chin, the way she carried herself.

Magic alone would only get me so far—the deception had to be perfect.

Any slip or inconsistency could unravel everything.

I whispered a simple incantation, one of the few I dared use with my magic so depleted. The words tasted like poison on my tongue as a faint shimmer of power wrapped around me, subtly blurring my features to anyone who looked too closely.

It wasn’t much—just a touch of magical persuasion to reinforce the physical disguise—but it would suffice for now.

Enough to fool our entourage, but too limited to maintain throughout my entire courtship.

Later I would call upon the last of my reserves to cast a stronger spell to deceive the Eldorian prince.

By the time I completed the transfer, dawn had begun to lighten the sky, signifying our departure was near.

I paused at the door and looked back at the sleeping princess.

Drawn by instinct, I returned to her side, brushing a hand against her pasty skin.

She was now thankfully warmer and her pulse had steadied.

She would be alright…or at least that was what I firmly told myself.

Just in case, I placed a damp cloth on her forehead, crafting the illusion of a sudden illness. With her royal garments gone and her identity stripped away, the innkeeper would likely assume she was a servant we’d left behind—and I hoped would see to her safe return to our kingdom.

I’d penned a brief note, my first as acting princess, and left it on the nightstand with a few silver coins from Gwendolyn’s purse, desperately hoping the innkeeper was an honorable man who would take pity on the girl who’d forgotten who she was.

I had promised myself I wouldn’t look back, but at the threshold I paused. “Forgive me,” I whispered. Whether my apology was for the deceit, my theft of her memory and identity, or for the storm I was about to unleash I couldn’t be sure. I only knew I needed to say it.

Then I stepped into the corridor alongside Myst, closing the door behind me on Princess Gwendolyn and on the last remnants of Lysa the handmaiden. Each step was measured as I walked away, each breath a rehearsal for the role I would now play.

The morning air bit colder as I moved through the shadows towards the awaiting royal escort, unaware of the imposter now in their midst. I drew my cloak up to cover my dark hair, but no one showed even the slightest suspicion as I climbed alone into the carriage.

I was no longer just a woman shaped by grief and vengeance: I had become Princess Gwendolyn, a role I would embody until I reclaimed what was rightfully mine.

The enemy court had no idea the chaos that was about to ensue now that I was about to infiltrated the castle.