Page 16 of Stolen Magic (All That Glitters #2)
T he flag bearing the royal insignia that had haunted my nightmares since the day my life shattered fluttered arrogantly above the stone and mortar of the highest tower of the distant palace.
I shifted the curtain to peer out the carriage window, my eyes traveling up the formidable fortress to the spire topped by the golden flag, visible even in the paleness of dawn.
Hatred seared through me, a fierce, burning tide that reaffirmed my purpose.
Though I had spent an entire decade anticipating this moment, reservation prevented me from entering the heart of the kingdom that had stolen everything from me.
Inside the plush confines of the carriage lit only by the dim glow of a single lantern, my doubts surged to the forefront of my mind as the weight of my choices pressed heavily upon me.
The doubts that had begun from the moment Princess Gwendolyn sipped the memory-altering potion had only intensified as the carriage carried me farther from the inn where I’d left her and closer to the life awaiting me as her imposter.
Princess Gwendolyn’s innocent trust, unguarded smiles, and naiveté to the cunning and cruelty that often lurked beneath the surface of the world haunted me with worry, her safety and well-being in a land not her own a tether to my conscience that tightened with each mile we crossed.
Only assurance that she would receive help from the innkeeper and my firm resolve for my mission kept me to my course—but now as I stared at the grim castle, even that determination felt shaky.
To distract myself from the guilt that had no place amid my plan, I’d immersed myself in my new role as Princess Gwendolyn after leaving her behind.
With each village and checkpoint we passed, I greeted guards with a strained smile and acknowledged servants with a gracious nod, mimicking her gentle tone and thoughtful pauses I had spent my time in her service memorizing.
Each successful impersonation left me feeling hollow rather than the victory I had anticipated.
In a desperate attempt to ease the anxiety threatening the defenses around my heart, I reminded myself that my actions would protect the princess from the dangers of the royal alliance with Eldoria, allowing her a chance at a life unburdened by the duties of her birthright.
As the countryside blurred past, I rehearsed every detail of the princess’s life, her engagement, and the information I’d gathered about the enemy court, arming myself with knowledge for the battles that inevitably lay ahead.
This was more than a masquerade; it was a necessary deception, a dance on the edge of a knife that I would perform until the end—for revenge, for justice, and for a chance to restore what was once lost for myself and for my kingdom.
It had been difficult to examine the passing scenery detailing Eldoria’s landscape from the carriage window, but I observed enough to compare its vitality to our kingdom’s gradually dying land. Most notable was the tangible force that filled the air, as thick as the oppressive humidity.
Magic .
I closed my eyes to savor the sensation bathing my skin, one I hadn’t experienced for so long I’d almost forgotten what it felt like, similar to waking up from a dream. Ever since the seal had suppressed my powers I’d been living in a desert, but here I’d finally found an oasis.
I discovered hidden pockets everywhere I looked, lying just beyond my reach, each glisten beckoning me to extract them.
The Eldorian guards who accompanied me didn’t seem to notice them, confirming my suspicion that while magic was in abundance in this land, only those who possessed the ability to wield it could actually see it.
As much as I relished in it, I couldn’t fully appreciate magic’s presence while my mind was occupied with anxiety for my upcoming meeting with the royal family and subsequent impersonation. I determined to seize the first opportunity to search for the beckoning power and gather it myself.
To distract myself from the castle that grew steadily closer with every hour, I opened my satchel and withdrew the prince’s letters that I’d secretly brought with me, poring over them for clues to understand and eventually defeat the person who had written them.
I buried my fingers in Myst’s warm fur as I read, each mention of hope in building a union between our countries or growing in his relationship with the princess causing me to scoff.
I skimmed over those shallow sentiments to find the pertinent details that might help me in my quest: names, places, government policies—anything that might give me the clues I needed to bring down this empire.
The moment I’d been dreading arrived in late afternoon, only a day after my usurpation, though it already seemed I’d been playing this part for weeks.
My heart surged with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation as the castle’s gothic structure loomed into view, its spires piercing the sky.
The magic saturating the air thickened the closer I drew, pulsing with a power that was both alluring and terrifying, as if the castle’s very stones were imbued with a formidable energy, a stark reminder of what I was up against.
I let my gaze wander over the high walls encircling the palace, its opulence a stark contrast to Princess Gwendolyn’s modest palace; I averted my gaze before I could again see the flag that had been burned into my memory.
Inside awaited the secrets I had been desperately searching for.
As desperate as I was to finally uncover them, I had to play this carefully, blending into the shadows of the court until the moment came to strike.
I subconsciously traced the hidden seal on my hand, the mark pulsing as if it too recognized the proximity of powerful magic.
The source of all my hatred and suffering lay within those towering walls, the precipice of vengeance that my journey had led me to.
Whatever transpired would either see the royal family paying for their crimes…
or my own end. Either way, I was ready to do whatever it took to reclaim the power that was rightfully mine and avenge the suffering cruelly wrought by this family.
My heart hammered with a force that threatened to undo me.
With great effort I managed to steady my emotions in preparation to step into a nest of vipers cloaked in silk and jewels.
As I crossed the threshold into the grand hall I was immediately struck by the dozens of flags that draped the gilded walls, each bearing a falcon in mid-strike—the Eldorian insignia that had haunted my nightmares since childhood, fluttering en masse as if mocking my pain.
I froze, a swell of anger and panic assaulting me at the sight. The gilded throne room seemed to fade as I was momentarily transported to the past I would do anything to forget—the scorching heat of the flames, the acrid smoke choking my lungs, my world rendered to ash.
“Princess Gwendolyn?”
My false identity failed to immediately penetrate the haunting recollection, incapable of acting as an anchor amid the emotion surging like a tide.
I faintly became aware of a warm sensation, the pouch of magic concealed beneath my dress radiating a heat that both comforted and reminded me of the power I held…
unlike the princess this court thought I was.
Slowly it penetrated my stormy tumult, bringing to mind my plan that would allow me finally lay my past to rest once and for all.
The surroundings gradually came back into focus…beginning with the sea of confused stares from the watching court. All my efforts of careful preparation and I’d tainted my first impression by allowing my emotions to temporarily overcome me.
For a moment, I was overwhelmed—by the biting whispers, the suffocating grandeur, and most of all the formidable presence of the royal family.
I drew in a slow breath, dragging my thoughts away from painful memories and harsh judgment of my enemies, anchoring myself in the present through the senses that comprised the throne room.
Golden light poured through towering stained-glass windows, casting jewel-toned patterns across the polished marble floor.
The walls were adorned in massive tapestries depicting Eldoria’s bloody victories, each thread gleaming beneath the chandeliers’ soft glow.
I forced my gaze downward, tracing the intricate designs in the marble tiles beneath my feet—anything to ground myself and quiet the storm rising within me.
The room echoed with the soft clink of armor from the guards standing at attention, the muted murmurs of courtiers, and the distant hush of a harp playing its ceremonial melody. I focused on the music’s rhythm, letting the steady melody drown out the venomous whispers and the ghosts of my past.
The scent of lilies and roses hung heavy in the air, cloying and sweet, but beneath it I caught the crisp tang of pine from the carved wooden beams above—earthy and familiar, like the forests near my childhood home. I inhaled deeply, clinging to that scent like a lifeline.
My fingertips brushed the cool marble walls as I walked, their solid, unyielding surface grounding me further.
The velvet carpet cushioned my steps, rich beneath my feet.
I pressed my palm briefly against the stone, drawing strength from its firmness—a reminder of my strength and resolve, as well as the crucial role I had to play.
With effort, I calmed my inner storm enough to focus. I had come this far. I would see it through.