Page 33 of Stolen Magic (All That Glitters #2)
I didn’t press, but her words only deepened the puzzlement that had been persistently gnawing at me.
Though her murmured distress in sleep had only offered a fragmented glimpse, it was enough to know her nightmare had involved her mother being in danger.
Yet I didn’t have to review the royal genealogy to know the queen of her kingdom was alive and well, with no rumors of remarriage or tragedy.
Perhaps she was more ill than I thought, trapped in the delirium from her nightmare.
I rested the back of my hand against her forehead to check for a fever and drew a taut breath; she was burning up.
Hastily dampening a cloth in the nearby wash basin, I began to sponge her clammy face.
If she had been more coherent, I suspected her pride might have protested the gesture, but she didn’t resist my nursing, simply watching me with furrowed brows.
“Why are you so nice to me?” she asked suddenly.
I paused, caught off guard by the unexpected question, but before I could even attempt to respond, she interrupted me with sigh, heavier than the last.
“Regardless of the reason, each thoughtful gesture only reaffirms that I don’t deserve you.”
My heart ached. I knew that feeling all too well, having grown up with a father who had taught me that love was conditional, something to be earned through power or performance.
Though I’d unfortunately been born with the expectation to uphold this mantle, that was the last thing I ever wanted my future wife to experience.
“Of course you do,” I insisted. “You’re my fiancée, and though I’m still getting to know you, I’ve long caught glimpses of your kind heart through letters and our brief visits.”
Instead of reassuring her, for some reason the words made her flinch.
“A title alone doesn’t make me worthy.” Her voice was quiet now, almost a whisper.
“Everything would be so much easier if this was a lie…but you seem too kind not to mean it. And no matter how much I don’t deserve it, I want it to be real. ”
She reached up, her fingers weakly curling over mine where I still rested my hand against her cheek. At first I thought she meant to push me away, but when I began to withdraw, she pressed into my touch, holding me there.
For a single breath, our gazes locked. Her expression, usually so carefully guarded, had opened just enough to let me glimpse a part of her she’d never yet shared—the smallest portion of her heart to finally let me in.
In that wordless conversation something shifted between us—a deeper connection than any we’d experienced during our courtship, nourishing a fragile hope I’d kept hidden in my heart that I couldn’t help but protect, even against Father’s orders.
“I don’t deserve someone as kind and honorable as you.” Distress wrenched her voice. None of her usual fire filled her gaze, just quiet anguish.
In that moment I felt the first stirrings of affection…
not romance but a simpler, more profound care for her well-being, the first foundation in an arrangement that had begun as a political contract.
I yearned to build upon this—to become more than pawns or even allies, but friends… and eventually something more.
Now wasn’t the time to unravel whatever sadness had become entangled in the lingering tendrils from her nightmare. “You don’t need to do anything to deserve love,” I told her gently. “Right now, you should rest.”
I helped ease her back onto the pillows. She accepted my support, albeit reluctantly. She lay still for only a few seconds before she pushed upright again, her movements sharp, almost frantic.
“No, I need to find something.” Her voice trembled, feverish and unfocused.
“I can retrieve anything that you need,” I offered. “But you should stay in bed.”
She shook her head. “No, I have to be the one…” her voice trailed off, catching as her awareness caught up with her words.
“What are you looking for?”
She didn’t answer right away. Her expression remained unreadable, but her hands clenched the sheets. “Something I misplaced,” she said at last. “It’s important.”
I frowned. “If you don’t want me to leave, then I’ll send a servant?—”
“ No .” Her tone sharpened. She winced, then repeated more softly, “ No . Thank you for your concern, but I need to do it myself.”
Tension filled her posture, a restless urgency just beneath the surface. Her gaze shifted towards the shadowed corners of the room—as if tracking something invisible. She wasn’t searching for something lost—she seemed to be chasing something hidden, something I couldn’t see.
“What are you looking for, Gwen?” I asked quietly.
Her eyes darted to me. Panic and guilt flickered her face before vanishing behind her usual mask, the veil she’d finally begun to drop and that I’d hoped would be set aside permanently.
“Something that belongs to me,” she whispered.
Once more she attempted to stand, swaying slightly. Instinctively, I rose with her, ready to catch her. She hadn’t taken more than a step when a knock sounded at the door. I turned, bristling at the unwanted interruption.
The door creaked open and a page stepped into the dim light, bowing low. “Your Highness, the king requests your presence in the council chamber. Immediately.”
I clenched my jaw. “Now?”
The page hesitated, eyes flicking briefly to my fiancée’s pale and unsteady form. “Yes, Your Highness. He said it was order.”
Not that my father ever made requests. I cursed under my breath and turned back to Gwen. She’d lowered herself to the edge of the mattress, body taut with tension.
“I’m reluctant to leave my fiancée while she’s unwell,” I said.
The page wisely said nothing, nor did I press the matter further—I knew better than to challenge the king’s command. Though I bore the title of prince, it was second to being one of father’s infinite pawns.
I sighed. “Very well. Tell him I’ll be there shortly.”
The page bowed and took his leave, shutting the door behind him. I knelt beside her once more, searching her face for that openness she’d shown so briefly. My heart squeezed in concern at the shadows under her eyes and the damp sheen on her forehead. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Try to rest.”
She shook her head in protest. “No, you don’t understand—I need to find it now. There isn’t much time. Should you find out too soon…I’ll lose my chance forever.” Desperation penetrated her exhaustion, and I couldn’t shake the anxiety coiled beneath her delirious words.
“We have all the time in the world,” I said, reaching to soothe her. “I’ll help you after you’ve recovered, but right now you must rest. You fainted, Gwen.”
“I’m feeling better.” But her gaze wouldn’t meet mine. Once more she tried to stand, but I gently eased her back down.
“I’m still worried about you. Please, Gwen.”
She peered up at me with wide, almost disbelieving eyes. “You’re…worried about me? ”
I nodded. The flicker at the corner of her lips was too faint to be called a smile, but it was a welcome shift from her previous coldness that seemed to resist my presence.
I wanted more than anything to patiently coax it out, to do whatever it took to earn her trust, but there wasn’t time to do so now.
Father was waiting. Though obedience had been deeply ingrained in me since birth, I couldn’t seem to move from her side. “I don’t want to leave,” I said.
“You have to,” she murmured. “You can’t disobey him.” Though I couldn’t recall the memory clearly, the fear haunting her eyes at the mention of the king caused worry to tighten in my chest.
“I’ll return soon.” I reached for her hand, holding it gently. “Promise me you’ll rest.”
She nodded, but the motion felt hollow, given for my benefit rather than her own. I lingered, searching her face for anything that might explain my rising unease, but she’d already retreated behind her impenetrable walls.
I finally rose, and with one last glance back, I left the room. The palace corridors stretched long and quiet, my footsteps echoing too loudly in the hush of pre-dawn as I hurried towards the council chamber, still tangled in thoughts of Gwen—pale and shaken in her bed, not quite herself.
Despite my lingering concern for her, a deeper anxiety gnawed at me: the strange patches in my memory, the small but mounting inconsistencies I could no longer ignore.
By the time I reached the council chamber, I had nearly convinced myself to set these rising doubts aside…
but that resolve crumbled the instant I stepped through the door.
Father stood alone at the head of the long marble table, no councilors or scribes in sight, only a single iron-bound chest resting before him. I recognized it immediately.
“You’re late,” he said by way of preamble.
It took effort to maintain my flimsy composure. I bowed stiffly. “Forgive me. You summoned me.”
He didn’t look up as his fingers hypnotically traced the chest’s lock in slow, deliberate circles. “Why didn’t you report that she has been searching the archives? Or that she was discovered near the forbidden treasury?”
Horror seized my breath, rendering me still. “Pardon?”
“The princess,” he said, each syllable measured. “She’s been poking around places far beyond her rights. Researching buried histories, reading sealed documents, foolishly thinking herself subtle.”
My mouth went dry. I swallowed hard. “She was studying for her new role.”
He gave a short, mirthless laugh. “Spare me the romantic defenses, Callan. Why you insist on clinging to such sentimental notions is an embarrassment to the crown, especially when it causes you to fail to see sense: no woman reads through accounts of magical confiscation treaties out of ceremonial interest. Since you’ve apparently missed it, the containment wards on the magic vault have also been disturbed. ”
I drew a sharp breath. I hadn’t known about that. Doubt flickered, unwelcome and traitorous, but I refused to allow it to take root. “What exactly are you accusing her of?”