Page 18 of Stolen Magic (All That Glitters #2)

I felt a rush of relief when His Majesty dismissed us with a lazy wave of his hand and I was able to finally escape his formidable presence.

The court’s scrutiny trailed behind us like a tapestry of intrigue and flattery I was glad to finally leave behind.

Prince Callan seemed oblivious to it as he led me away, his attention fixed on me, as if determined to do everything in his power to make me feel welcome.

The gilded corridors were lavishly adorned, each surface ostentatiously boasting Eldoria’s excessive wealth—a stark contrast to the crumbling elegance of Princess Gwendolyn’s dilapidated palace.

The ornate décor blended into a sea of glamor, gold, and jewel tones as we walked…

until a familiar scent caught me off guard.

Violets .

I stopped short, breath catching. Their sweet perfume drifted from a vase perched on a nearby pedestal, tugging at a memory buried deep. Clusters of those delicate purple blooms had once filled our garden. Mother used to gather them, tucking them into vases to brighten our home.

Their nostalgic scent curled around me, as though it had traveled across a decade to find me—carrying with it the ache of happier days long since past. For a moment, I found myself swept back in time.

I wanted to linger in the warmth of that memory and savor its enveloping tenderness… but the present pressed in.

I blinked, chasing away the wisps of emotion clinging like mist. I looked up and found Prince Callan watching me.

A flush crept into my cheeks. His gaze wasn’t prying, only curious, but it felt too intimate—like he’d caught a glimpse of a private moment of vulnerability I hadn’t meant to reveal, especially not to him.

He said nothing in response to my inquiring look, simply bestowed one of the smiles already becoming commonplace between us and resumed his escort to a private sitting room, where he eased me into a settee and settled beside me, close but with enough distance to maintain protocol.

When he’d assured himself I was properly settled, he arranged for tea and refreshments. “I’ve asked them to bring chai, your favorite.”

He seemed proud to have remembered this obscure preference about his supposed fiancée.

I bit my lip to suppress a sigh. In truth my favorite tea was chamomile—specifically a blend brewed from the herbs Mother had grown herself—a simple, homey flavor rather than the lavish ones found in the royal court.

The scent of cinnamon and cloves rose with the steam that tickled my cheeks with warmth, this time invoking recollection of all the times I’d served this tea to the princess.

Despite my efforts to suppress it, worry wrenched my heart as I wondered what might have transpired since I’d abandoned her in the inn without knowledge of who she was.

This flavor was the last tea I wanted to drink when every sip would force me to remember each moment of her kindness that had no place in my hardened heart, but I couldn’t reject the prince’s gesture on my behalf.

I pursed my lips and took a hasty sip; it scalded my throat so that I scarcely tasted it, and the burn felt like a deserved punishment for my crimes.

We drank in strained silence. Prince Callan kept alternating between stealing furtive sidelong glances at me and scanning the room, as though searching for a conversation topic.

I’d expected at least some of his polished performance to falter now that we were alone.

I hadn’t been impersonating the princess for long, and already I felt the weight of the charade pressing down on me.

He broke the silence abruptly. “We’ve prepared a feast in your honor tonight, but if you’re weary and would prefer to rest, that can be arranged.” He stared at me anxiously, waiting for my answer.

In truth I wanted nothing more to accept the generous offer—but I’d witnessed Princess Gwendolyn’s tireless adherence to duty firsthand.

Declining to attend would contradict the image I was meant to portray…

not to mention appearing socially engaged would help preserve my cover.

The king’s comment about loyalty and poise drifted through my mind; I knew his expectations were high and specific, and he would likely view absence from my welcome feast as a sign of disloyalty.

Still, part of me hesitated. It would be far easier to observe my fiancé and obtain information about his true character and the Eldorian court without an audience, nor was I ready to return to the king’s presence. Just the thought of it made my chest tighten and my breath shallow.

I didn’t realize I was shaking until Prince Callan laid his hand over mine, a touch so tender it felt like fire. I flinched before I could suppress the reaction. He pulled away immediately, expression apologetic. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—you just seemed distressed, so I thought…”

His voice trailed off as he lowered his gaze to his lap, another blush tinging his handsome profile. I silently cursed myself. Another slip, too soon after the last to go unnoticed.

But instead of suspicion, his expression only softened, appearing genuinely remorseful.

“Forgive me, it’s undoubtedly too soon for such familiarity.

You seemed nervous, and I wanted to help.

I know this transition must be daunting.

If there’s anything you need—or if it ever feels like too much—please don’t hesitate to let me know. Your comfort is my priority.”

I weighed each word, searching for the strategy beneath his kindness. But I could find nothing sharp in his tone, no calculated edge. His concern seemed sincere…which in itself felt like a strategy, a well-crafted veneer meant to disarm. It had to be. I reminded myself to stay guarded.

“I appreciate your thoughtfulness,” I finally offered. “You’ve always shown me great consideration, beginning from our letters. I found our correspondence most engaging and have been hoping to resume our conversation where we left off.”

I studied his reaction carefully for any hint of the cunning man I was certain had hidden behind every carefully crafted word he penned.

At the mention of our correspondence, I detected the first falter in his eager expression—his mouth turned down slightly, and I latched onto this change like a witch finding a rare ingredient, my first real evidence that he wasn’t what he seemed.

“Is there a reason you don’t wish to continue the topic we first addressed in our letters?” I asked. Spoken conversation left far less room to hide information than written words.

“It’s not that…” But his hesitation lingered, deepening my suspicion—the topic of Eldoria and the magic it had stolen were clearly ones he was reluctant to discuss.

“Unless I understand your hesitation, I’m afraid I might fear the worst.” I lowered my gaze in a soft, downcast look I hoped would resemble hurt. Whether Prince Callan was desperate to earn my favor or was truly as soft-hearted as he appeared, I knew such a performance would be effective.

As I expected, concern overtook his features—an expression I was already becoming familiar with.

He leaned forward slightly, voice earnest. “Forgive me, I meant no offense. I agree—what we discussed in our letters is far too important to ignore. I fully intend to revisit it at some future date, or now if you prefer. It’s just…

we are to be married. I know we’ll have a lifetime to discuss important matters, but I’d like to begin getting to know the woman who will be my wife. ”

Even midst his shyness his eagerness was plain, a reaction I might have found endearing…

if I believed it sincere. But I didn’t. It seemed I wasn’t the only one seeking information, only his desire was hidden beneath the polished guise of nurturing our relationship.

A clever ploy, albeit a transparent one, and one I was more than a match for.

I offered a strained smile. “In the weeks before our wedding I would like nothing more than to converse with you at length about any topic you wish to discuss, especially those that pertain to you and our future together.”

I reached out to touch his arm, hoping he found the gesture reassuring even beneath my tense fingers. Unlike when he’d touched me he didn’t flinch or pull away. Instead, he stared at my hand with a deepening blush that rose across his cheeks, reaching the tips of his ears.

When he finally met my gaze, his eyes shone with a new emotion—raw and sincere—that made my heart pound in warning. I couldn’t afford any unnecessary attachment from my victim; if I was wrong about his intentions and he took my words as genuine, it would unravel everything.

The thought struck hard, leaving me breathless beneath the weight of my own deception. In the quiet of our private conversation, there was nothing to distract me from the strange storm of emotions spinning inside me—emotions I couldn’t afford to feel, lest I forget my purpose.

I fought to steady my voice. “As much as I’d like to become better acquainted, perhaps it can wait until after the feast. The long day has left me quite hungry.”

He blinked, clearly surprised, but recovered quickly, his usual accommodating smile returning. “Of course, if you’re sure you’re up for it.”

He stood and extended his hand. Even though I had braced for the touch, the moment his fingers wrapped around mine, I was unprepared for the sensation as his warmth enfolded me as if in embrace.

I let go as soon as politeness allowed and accepted his arm instead, a connection that offered much-needed distance from the intimacy that for some strange reason caused my heart to pound uncomfortably.