Page 31 of Stolen Magic (All That Glitters #2)
It was the first time I’d willingly spoken his name, but even that wasn’t enough to break the spell she’d cast—not with magic, but with memory.
His gaze stayed fixed on her as the beginning of recognition struggled to surface, fragile but growing, as if some buried part of him knew she was the key to dispelling the fog he now realized was shrouding his mind.
A dark thought stirred the back of my mind.
I could spell him again —patch the edges of his memory and erase this entire interaction.
The spell didn’t need to be strong—just enough to blur the seams. He would forget the goose girl, forget the flower she had brought to his remembrance, and forget her knowing eyes.
Deep down I knew the decision was reckless, but desperation surged through me, eclipsing all sense.
I tightened my grip on his hand, keeping my other arm tucked at my side to shield my next movement.
My fingers curled inward as I whispered the reinforcement enchantment beneath my breath—a spell to dull the memory the princess had roused.
I had barely attempted to summon my meager breadcrumbs of magic carefully gathered by Myst as she explored the palace since our arrival when agony flared through the cursed seal on my hand. My breath caught as pain seared through me, the edges of my vision blurring white.
“Gwen?” Callan’s voice cut through the haze, sharp with concern. “What’s wrong?”
Even through the discomfort, I registered the effect the name had on the princess—Gwendolyn’s mouth silently formed the word, as if testing the name on her tongue to see how it fit.
The nickname seemed to stir something deep within her, the key that unlocked another sliver of dormant memory of her true identity my magic had tried so hard to suppress.
I forced myself to straighten. “It’s nothing,” I managed, voice hoarse. “Just a little dizzy.”
His gaze dropped to my trembling hand, clenched tight against my skirts. I quickly moved it behind me to hide it from view, pretending to smooth the fabric.
His frown deepened. “You’re pale.” His concern was both tender and torturous. While I longed for nothing more than to savor his attention as he bent towards me with a worried frown, too much scrutiny would peel back the layers of my disguise.
Please stop looking at me like that. Please don’t see who I truly am . I forced a brittle smile. “I’m fine, just tired. This has all been…a lot.” Which was true, just not in the way he thought.
He didn’t seem convinced, but his good nature mercifully allowed me to end this conversation before it veered into more dangerous territory.
Gwendolyn didn’t call for him, seeming to sense that for now she had lost. But unless I found a way to strengthen the spell entrapping her memories, it was only a matter of time before she remembered her royal identity and stole back all that was rightfully hers.
Even without her attempting to stop him, Callan paused as we departed, casting one last glance back towards her, standing frozen in the golden light. Her gaze remained locked on him and his gaze lingered on her in return, as if caught in a tug-of-war between memory and illusion…between her and me.
I turned away, not daring to look back to see the expression she wore; I couldn’t bear to. I needed time. I needed space. I needed a plan.
My hold tightened around his hand, more urgently than before.
His gaze finally shifted back to mine. After a moment’s hesitation, he gently squeezed my fingers.
He didn’t release my hand but his grip was looser now, almost uncertain.
I could feel the weight of his thoughts pressing as heavily as my own, his silence far more dangerous than questions.
With every step away from her, I felt myself reclaiming some of my faltering control.
Her silence trailed behind us, heavier than her accusations.
Even once she was out of sight and I had no more need to perform, I still clung to Callan’s hand, unable to release him for reasons I didn’t fully understand.
We crossed back into the shadows of the trees. He said nothing for a long moment, but I sensed his churning thoughts, his mind still turning over every moment from our recent interaction. Then finally, he quietly spoke. “She knew about the flower.”
My throat closed up. “What?”
“That flower I gave her—or rather, you.” His gaze drifted back towards the field, though the goose girl was no longer in sight.
“She described the moment exactly, a spontaneous gesture I did because I hoped it might help you feel more comfortable. No one else but the two of us was there, and I never told anyone. How could she have known about it?”
He turned back to me with the kind of stillness that unsettled more than any accusation ever could, a doubt that I couldn’t allow to go any further. My panic rose, causing everything to blur.
“There was something else,” he added, more slowly now.
“Her mention of the pressed flower made me remember another, one you caught in the palace gate on our first stroll. You told me that even something crushed could still matter, and promised that someday—if our feelings deepened—you would press one for me that wasn’t broken. ”
That memory hadn’t come from me. Despite the spell I’d cast across his own mind, a small ember of truth had survived, glowing brighter with each word he recalled. If he kept nourishing it…eventually he would remember his true fiancée, and everything I had sacrificed would burn to ash.
He hesitated, then continued softly. “And then…you sang a lullaby—not one I’ve ever heard at court, but one your nursemaid used to hum whenever you were afraid of thunder.
You didn’t sing the words, just the melody.
But it stayed with me because it made me think of someone loved so deeply they remembered comfort more than fear. ”
His eyes flicked to mine. “I’d forgotten about that memory until now,” he murmured, more to himself than to me. “But something about that goose girl’s voice brought it back…almost as if she was part of the memory that should have belonged to you.”
Every heartbeat was agony now, fueled not just by fear, but jealousy of a tender moment he had once shared with someone else…a memory that had nothing to do with me even though I wore her name.
No matter what, I couldn’t let this memory take root.
But I’d already used the last of the magic Myst had scavenged; my pouch hung empty and useless around my neck.
All that remained was my limited innate power.
Through the white-hot ache still radiating from the cursed seal on my palm, I reached deep inside my depleted reserves, scraping the bottom of the lingering residue that remained.
Please , I begged silently . Just once more. Let it be enough.
Myst leapt forward with a hiss of warning. “Stop, you don’t have enough?—!”
But it was already too late. I whispered the incantation under my breath, my trembling voice barely forming the words.
The spell surged upward, jagged and unstable from how little power I had left to wield it.
The seal ignited with searing heat as the magic tore free with a force that left my vision spinning.
But I pushed through, willing the spell to take hold with the last of my strength.
I saw it touch his mind, reaching for that fragile, dangerous memory I needed to eradicate—it dissolved, like a page burning to ash.
But I was already falling.
“Gwen?” Callan’s voice cracked through the rising fog just as my legs gave out from beneath me. Strong arms caught me an instant before I hit the ground. “ Gwen! ”
I barely registered the cold grass beneath me, only the flicker of his warmth, the panic in his voice, my blurring surroundings.
Pain bloomed behind my eyes as the world dimmed, shadows curling at the edges of my awareness, pulling me deeper into the shadowy blackness.
Somewhere in the growing hush, I heard him call for me again—the name false, but the worry filling his voice real.
And in that final, flickering moment before the dark claimed me, I wished he knew who I really was so he could have spoken my name with the tender concern I was growing to cherish. Not the princess, or the witch, or the liar…just me.
With that thought, everything faded into darkness.