Page 41 of Stolen Magic (All That Glitters #2)

There was no point hiding it anymore, and I felt a wave of relief that I could finally show part of my true self to him.

I extended my hand. His fingers hovered just above the mark, not quite touching.

“I’ve seen this before,” he murmured. He carefully brushed his fingertips across the weblike strands, as if afraid his touch might erase it.

“How could you have seen it?” I asked.

He didn’t immediately answer. A hollow quiet formed between us, broken only by the steady storm as he studied the ancient sigil embedded into my skin.

“I first discovered it in a scroll hidden in the forbidden wing of the palace library during my magic studies,” he said at last. “It’s the symbol of a specific magical bloodline, whose last known descendant defied my father during his conquest of your kingdom ten years ago.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. Could he be speaking about Mother?

“She was said to be the most powerful sorceress seen in generations,” Callan continued, his quiet voice almost lost beneath the hush of rain.

“The records state she refused to help the king locate an ancient artifact, one believed to grant eternal prosperity to the kingdom…

but it could only be wielded by someone of her line.

According to our records, she disappeared during the conquest, and no one knows what happened to her. Over the years, her existence has faded into legend, but the king still searches for magic users in the surrounding kingdoms in hopes she or someone from her bloodline still lives.”

By disappeared , she had been murdered…and the sole surviving member of her lineage was me .

The world tilted. All this time, I’d believed my mother was simply an herbalist with a hidden talent for magic and a few minor spells to her name. We’d lived a secluded life in the woods…yet we hadn’t been hiding from the world, but from the crown.

I knew in my heart he was speaking of Mother, yet I had to be certain. “Do you know the sorceress’s name?” I asked, my trembling voice barely above a whisper.

He shook his head. “The records only referred to her by a title: The Flamekeeper .”

My stomach dropped. That had been what the villagers sometimes called Mother: Keeper of the Flame . I’d thought it a poetic way to describe how she generously shared her herbal remedies with those in need, but it had referred to something far more profound than I had realized.

But now I understood: the king hadn’t simply been hunting magic—he’d been hunting her —nor had the soldiers come by chance the day our cottage burned. Eldoria hadn’t been who had stripped me of my powers…it had been my mother, though I couldn’t imagine why.

I stared at the mark branding my skin in a new light, glowing faintly against the curve of my hand like a betrayal made visible. Callan also studied it for another long moment before lifting his eyes to mine, eyes filled not with the judgment I expected, but the tender concern I had grown to crave.

“This sigil appears to be her mark,” he said. “Do you know where you got it?”

My pulse thudded. I knew I couldn’t keep the truth hidden forever…especially not from him. But the confession lodged in my throat, stuck beneath the weight of years spent hiding everything I was…even though now all I wanted was to finally let the man I’d grown to care for in.

Callan waited patiently, watching me with gentle scrutiny that still made me feel exposed.

When I remained silent, uncertain how to begin, he cleared his throat.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something.

” He hesitated, caught in indecision, before his gaze settled on me with quiet resolve.

“This seal only confirms what I’ve been suspecting for some time: you sense things others cannot. ”

My pulse quickened. I was too stunned to even formulate a reply, let alone a feasible excuse. Instead my throat closed around the words, as if silence alone could dispel his suspicion. Finally, I swallowed and managed, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

His lips quirked—not with amusement, but quiet disbelief.

“That shimmer you mentioned earlier—the one surrounding the magical plants—can only be seen by those attuned to magic. It wasn’t the first instance—you sensed a wayward trace that day in the library, and then again earlier today when I discovered you in the corridor. ”

I stiffened. So he had seen me capture it. Had this entire garden stroll been a trap, an attempt to catch me off guard in order to confront me away from prying eyes? The thought made my heart ache, a bitter irony considering how much I’d manipulated him in the early days of our courtship.

He noticed my alarm and rushed to reassure me, almost stumbling over his words. “I’m not trying to accuse or threaten you. I didn’t intend to spy on you, but when I saw you up and wandering so soon after fainting, I was worried. I’m sorry.” His remorse seemed too earnest to be rehearsed.

Myst’s surprise compelled her to finally break her silence. “Don’t let him fool you,” she warned. “You know better than anyone how easily kindness can be wielded as a weapon to extract information. If he’s acting on his father’s orders, he has a duty to uncover a potential traitor.”

The rain fell harder beyond the wooden eaves, blurring the edges of the garden into a silver mist. I couldn’t meet his gaze, not with the truth tangled in the knot tightening around my heart.

He didn’t press for my confidence, but when I finally summoned enough courage to look up, his eyes held the questions he didn’t voice, a silent invitation asking me to let him in.

While he sought the key to unlock the portion of my heart where my secrets lay buried, I felt something deeper stir, a need I hadn’t known I carried—not to take him into my confidence for the sake of my mission, but the aching desire to share a portion of my real self.

I wanted to be seen by him—not as an illusion, but as myself.

Sense and fear wrestled until the latter emerged victorious—not the logic of safety, but of necessity.

As the heir of magic’s conquerer, Callan possessed a knowledge about the power I was desperate to reclaim that I couldn’t find on my own.

I had spent days searching, chasing whispers and hidden pulses, efforts that had almost been entirely futile.

With the real princess walking closer to the truth, it was only a matter of time before my days as an imposter drew to a close and I lost my chance forever.

Struggling to bear my burdens alone had only led to dead ends, but if I took the risk of opening my heart to him, perhaps something even more precious than magic awaited me—the very heart I hadn’t realized how desperately I wanted until the moment he enfolded me in his arms.

I was desperate to take that chance…and yet should I give in to my heart’s foolish whims only to realize his kindness was only another carefully placed trap, I wouldn’t just lose the chance at reclaiming what was stolen—I would lose myself entirely.

He leaned closer, his breath brushing my cheek like a kiss. “I’m not accusing you, Gwen. I’m just…trying to understand you.”

I wished more than anything he could, but it was impossible when the girl he was trying to know didn’t exist, not fully.

So I offered him what I could. “Magic’s always fascinated me. Even if it’s just in stories. I pay attention to things others overlook.”

He nodded slowly, accepting this portion of the truth. But the look in his eyes told me he sensed the other half still buried behind it. At my continued indecision, he offered a secret of his own.

“The king suspects you’re after magic.”

Shock rendered me still; by Myst’s startled hiss, even her sharp instincts hadn’t anticipated this. To reveal this to the person the king suspected would likely cost Callan dearly should His Majesty discover his son’s betrayal.

I met his gaze. “Why are you telling me this? I’ve given you no reason to trust me.” I’d only done the opposite.

“Because I sense you carry your own heavy burden and I don’t want someone I’m growing to care for to carry it alone a moment longer.”

Growing to care for.

These precious words struck deep. I wanted to savor them, but Myst’s warning whispered through my thoughts. Don’t allow sentiment to derail the mission.

I knew she was right, but in this moment my heart was louder than reason.

Callan lightly traced the seal with his fingertip, causing me to shudder. “The fact you’ve been hiding it gives me reason to believe you understand its significance. You were right to protect it until you knew if you could trust me. Do you trust me now?”

That question reverberated through my heart, which already knew the answer. Yes. Against all odds, I did trust him.

Something inside me shifted, allowing me to finally acknowledge a quiet, fragile truth: perhaps the glamour masking my seal hadn’t failed after all; perhaps I’d let it fade.

The closer I grew to Callan, the more the lies I’d so carefully spun around my identity unraveled from the growing part of me that wanted to be truly seen… by him.

I was tired of pretending, of hiding behind illusion and stolen names.

I’d clung so tightly to control that I hadn’t realized how much of it I’d already lost until I feared I had none left.

Some small, selfish part of me yearned for him to see past the deception and care for the girl buried beneath the lies… even if it cost me everything.

I did trust him. And while he had no reason to trust me in return, I wanted to finally change that. The moment had come to be brave and finally reveal a portion of myself to the man who would either accept me…or be the source of my ruin.

I drew in a breath, my fingers curling into the damp fabric of the cloak wrapped around us, grounding myself against the weight of what I was about to confess. Take courage , I told myself. Even if it costs you everything .

“I haven’t been entirely honest with you,” I said, my low voice nearly lost in the whisper of rain against the gazebo’s roof. “About…who I am.”

With another steadying breath, I allowed him to see the part of me I’d fought so long to conceal.

Closing my eyes, I reached inward to the fragile core where the last threads of my precious, hard-earned magic scavenged in secret pulsed.

With a whispered incantation, I released them, ignoring Myst’s hiss of horror.

Soft, silver light bloomed from my fingertips, spreading into the air like stardust caught in wind. Shimmering, delicate petals unfurled, waltzing between us before dissolving to mist. I gasped as a wave of agonizing heat pulsed through my seal before cooling as the last of my magic vanished.

When I opened my eyes, Callan was staring in wonder. The way he looked at me in that moment made the loss of magic almost bearable. For the first time, I didn’t feel like something to be feared or hidden. I felt…seen. It warmed something in me I’d long thought turned to ash.

We watched the last of the spell vanish beneath the haze of rain. For a long moment Callan didn’t speak, his expression still shadowed with stunned realization, before his voice finally came, quiet and reverent. “So it’s true then. You have magic.”

I gave a tentative nod. An awed smile spread across his face, achingly gentle.

“All this time, Eldoria believed your court’s magic died during the conquest ten years ago. But it’s still alive…in you .”

The silence that followed was heavy with everything I couldn’t say: that the princess he believed me to be wasn’t the one who carried this magic, but rather the witch pretending to wear her name.

Though that dangerous truth I wasn’t yet strong enough to share hung in the air like another secret between us, his gaze held mine, soft and steady, accepting what I had offered without condition. He reached out, cupping my hand between his with a care that made my throat tighten.

Something tender and fierce flickered in his eyes as he looked up at me.

“I never expected the princess of the kingdom whose magic we stole might still possess it,” he murmured, his voice soft with wonder.

“I understand the reason for your distance, why you felt the need to keep this hidden in a court as corrupt as mine—you were protecting yourself.”

At this unconditional acceptance I finally submitted to the quiet surrender I hadn’t known I’d been holding back. I stared at him, nearly drowning in the tenderness he extended. His thumb brushed lightly over the mark on my skin, tracing it not with fear but a look akin to reverence.

“I’m glad you trusted me with this,” he said. “I want to know all of you, not just the part you’re expected to parade through the palace halls.”

Emotion burned behind my eyes. Though I still harbored truths far darker than he realized, his acceptance struck something deep within me. This growing tenderness compelled me to meet him halfway as he leaned forward, just enough that our foreheads nearly touched.

“You can trust me.”

And unlike all times he’d offered this promise when I’d been blinded by vengeance, it was nice to at last believe him.