Page 43 of Stolen Magic (All That Glitters #2)

It wasn’t until near dawn that the click of claws across the floor roused me, signifying Myst’s return. Her silver gaze met mine, calm but sharp: the deed is done .

Later, I would hear whispers from passing servants: the court’s magical advisor had collapsed mid-consultation in his study.

Pale and disoriented, he’d been carried to the infirmary muttering nonsense, his strength all but drained.

No one dared suggest foul play aloud, but the event had unsettled the court.

But moments after the event had transpired was my chance.

When I’d brewed the draught, my intention hadn’t just been to remove an enemy…but to create an opening to discover what secrets he kept hidden behind his locked door and enchanted wards.

With a single, deliberate tilt of her head, Myst beckoned me to follow. The palace was quieter at this hour, the sconces along the stone halls casting flickering shadows. I kept to the side corridors, my slippered feet making little sound against the stones.

Myst padded ahead, her paws whisper-soft, and stopped just outside the door I’d been seeking: the advisor’s private chamber. I crept closer, heart hammering. My hand hovered above the knob, but stilled at the first brush of magic against my skin.

Wards pricked my fingers in warning—not crude, easily breakable charms meant to deter servants or curious apprentices; this enchantment thrummed like coiled lightning beneath my palm—ancient, complex, and dangerous. These weren’t meant to just repel intruders, but were built to punish them.

With my rudimentary training in ward-breaking, one wrong move meant I likely wouldn’t survive whatever trap lay in wait. Despite my small victory, the royal mage’s countermove would protect whatever secrets he guarded just beyond the door, remaining out of reach.

Disheartened, my arm fell limply to my side. I hadn’t expected it to be easy, but it still stung to fail when I’d come so close. But I hadn’t come this far to give up completely.

Don’t , Myst warned. It’s too risky .

I knew she was right, but I didn’t care.

While my mother’s magic had been discovered elsewhere in the palace, I had no doubt that the mage’s chambers harbored magical secrets, perhaps the answer to unlocking my mother’s hidden magic.

I bit my lip as I glanced up and down the empty corridor.

The guards had rotated, the nearest posted two corridors down, enough distance to give me, at best, a minute. Maybe two.

I crouched low and whispered a charm of unweaving, one I’d used to dismantle simple magical locks in the past, an untraceable and nonaggressive beginner’s spell unlikely to trigger a defense.

The air around the door shimmered faintly, and for a moment I dared to hope…

then a soft pulse of resistance rippled through the wood before the spell dissolved like mist.

I swore under my breath and leaned against the cold stone wall, considering my next move. There had to be another way, and I would find it. The man who had murdered my mother wouldn’t keep his secrets forever.

A sudden chill prickled the back of my neck, alerting me to an unexpected presence behind me. “Strange hour for a walk, isn’t it?”

The quietly dangerous voice was frighteningly familiar. For a breathless moment, I thought the royal mage had somehow countered my attack and been summoned by the disturbance. But when I slowly turned, the man I encountered waiting behind me instead was far worse. Dread curled my gut.

The King of Eldoria.

The man who had ordered my mother’s execution stood cloaked in shadow, his mantle of dark velvet catching the glow of the torchlight.

Every inch of him radiated control and power.

There was no malice in his expression, but the calculated suspicion was far worse, his appraising gaze fixed directly on me like a man inspecting a blade he suspected to be poisoned.

Fear seized my breath, rendering words impossible…though I knew no excuse would save me. The king regarded me with the patience of a predator, savoring the moment before the kill.

I swallowed hard and finally found my voice. “Apologies, Your Majesty.” I dipped a curtsy so quickly my knees wobbled. “I wasn’t aware this part of the palace was restricted.”

The glint in his dark eyes grew more dangerous. “But now you are aware that it is restricted?”

My heart seized. I opened my mouth, but no sound emerged. His lips curled in triumph.

“Few are bold enough to wander near the court mage’s chambers. Fewer still would linger so soon after his… unexpected illness.” His gaze shifted to the sealed door, then back to me. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

I couldn’t breathe. My mind scrambled for a plausible lie, any escape, but there was none.

This was it: my vengeance would end in failure, and my mother’s fate would become mine.

I closed my eyes, bracing for the inevitable—first imprisonment, then questioning, and quite likely eventual execution…

but all I could feel was regret for the life I might have had, had I chosen a different path.

Footsteps echoed behind us, and before I even looked, my heart recognized my rescuer: Callan. His calm voice cut through the tension. “There you are.”

I turned, stunned. He strode towards us with that practiced ease I’d come to recognize, princely poise that masked purposeful urgency.

“I’d hoped to catch you earlier,” he said to me with a courteous nod. “I thought we might watch the stars before they fade; the sunrise will begin soon.”

The king’s attention remained fixed on me. Only after a long pause did he finally shift his attention to his son. “At this hour?”

Callan offered a forced, measured smile.

Unlike the ones he’d given me, this one didn’t reach his eyes.

He subtly positioned himself between me and the king, a shield from his father’s wrath.

“You said yourself I should expand my studies. I have recently taken more interest in celestial navigation.”

The king’s mouth twitched but he said nothing more. With one last piercing look he turned and disappeared down the corridor, the echo of his formidable footsteps lingering long after he’d vanished from sight.

We waited in tense silence until we were sure he was gone, then my knees buckled. Callan caught me before I could fall. “Are you all right?”

I managed a breathless nod. “You’ve rescued me twice now. At this rate you’ll make a habit of it.”

He arched a brow. “Twice?”

He couldn’t have known about the first—where his influence had unknowingly prevented me from going down the path of murder there would be no coming back from. “You save me in more ways than you realize.”

His lips lifted, seeming pleased. “It is an honor to help my fiancée. Should I not?”

I didn’t know how to answer, gratitude warring with feeling unworthy. Instead I asked a different question. “How did you know I was in trouble?”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure. I just sensed that you needed me, and something I can’t explain guided me to you.”

It almost sounded as if he’d followed an invisible trail of magic—like before in the library, where he’d sensed the spell lingering on the shelves.

What I didn’t understand was why the magic in Eldoria had led him to me.

Could it be that Eldoria’s magic, despite its bondage to the crown, still carried fragments of loyalty to me and my bloodline?

Callan was still watching me, eyes soft with concern. “Come, we should go to the balcony, just in case my father decides to check if I followed through on my excuse.”

I followed him to the nearby balcony into the chill of night. Stars were just beginning to fade—delicate silver against the lightening velvety-purple sky as the first rays of sunrise caressed the distant horizon in rosy gold.

We leaned against the railing, the silence that settled between us less strained than I expected despite my anticipation.

I expected him to question what I’d been doing outside the court mage’s chamber.

His restraint in withholding interrogation should have eased my nerves, but the longer he said nothing, the more my anxiety grew.

Because silence could mean trust, and trust was far more lethal than suspicion.

“I don’t understand,” I said when I could no longer bear the agonizing silence. “Why do you keep helping me? You’ve caught me in compromising situations more than once. You have every reason not to trust me.”

He was quiet for a long, thoughtful moment. “Because despite the walls you hide behind, I’ve seen the care you’re capable of. I choose to believe there’s a good person beneath the secrets, even if you don’t believe it yourself.”

Throat tightening, I turned away, afraid of what he might see in my expression.

His faith hurt more than his suspicion ever could.

Silence once more settled around us, full of questions and unspoken truths I couldn’t yet voice.

But Callan didn’t press, remaining a steady presence beside me, as if he understood that my words would come in their own time.

Together we watched the horizon melt from silver into soft rose as one by one the stars vanished behind the soft blush of morning, until only the brightest star lingered—a stubborn glimmer that refused to let go…like me.

I found myself wanting to confess, not quite understanding why I needed to respond to his unspoken invitation that only my heart seemed to hear. I turned towards him, our eyes meeting in the hush before sunrise. He shifted towards me, open and attentive, patiently waiting for me to let him in.

My hands shook as I gripped the railing. “I almost did something terrible,” I whispered.

There was a pause. “But you didn’t,” he said with quiet certainty.

“No,” I said hoarsely. “But I wanted to.”

The silence deepened, but not with judgment. When I dared glance at him, I expected disappointment or distance. Instead, he looked at me as if I was something fragile he wanted nothing more than to protect. My vision blurred, this time not from rage, but from his unbearable tenderness.

“I don’t know who I’m becoming,” I admitted. “Everything feels so twisted inside me, like I’m always one wrong step away from turning into someone I don’t want to be.”

“That doesn’t make you weak,” he said gently. “It makes you human . I used to think strength meant being certain of who you are, but now I wonder if it’s more about choosing to become someone better, even when it’s hard.”

I looked up at him, startled by the vulnerability threading his words. “Is that why you stand up to the king?” I asked softly.

He hesitated, then gave a quiet nod. “I don’t want to become the man he’s trying to shape me into.” His gaze held mine. “Nor do you have to be the person whatever your fears you harbor want for you. Whatever it is you’re carrying, you don’t have to carry it alone.”

That simple sentence wrapped around all the parts inside of me that felt raw and broken. I desperately wanted to return his sentiment, but I didn’t think I could speak without unraveling.

When his hand reached out to rest beside where mine rested on the railing, I let myself inch closer. His hand brushed against mine, just a touch, an assurance that he was there and wasn’t going anywhere.

This simple contact was enough to send a tremor up my arm, warming something long-frozen. Against all odds he was here. In his presence, I no longer felt like I was falling. I felt seen—still fractured, but held.

And for that moment, it was enough.

“Thank you,” I murmured. “For coming when you did, for lying to the king, for trusting me…even when I’m not sure I deserve it.”

“I don’t know what you’re carrying, but we’re not meant to bear our burdens alone.

After all, we’re partners now.” He offered a sweet, sincere smile that nestled into my chest, enfolding my heart with its tenderness.

Once I would have feared this feeling, but now I finally allowed myself to bask in it.

I hadn’t meant to reach for his hand, and didn’t even realize I had until my fingers were curled around his.

His skin was warm, solid, real . His thumb stroked gently over mine, slow and sure.

We stood hand in hand beneath the paling stars, two broken souls finding something whole in each other’s presence.

The sun rose gradually beyond the distant hills, and for once I let myself believe it might be rising for me, too.

When the time eventually came for us to part, he walked me back to my room. At the corridor leading to my chambers, we paused. He didn’t say goodnight or offer any formal farewell, he simply looked at me as though memorizing who I was in this moment—the girl no longer hiding behind masks.

Just before turning to go, he reached out with the gentlest touch and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

It was a simple gesture, almost delicate, but with the way his fingers lingered just a heartbeat too long, the tenderness in his eyes like he was trying not to fall…

all made it feel like something more, an emotion I still wasn’t ready to name.

And then he was gone.

I stood in the quiet hallway long after his footsteps faded, my hand slowly rising to where he had touched me. And for the first time in a long while, I didn’t feel like I was slipping back into the person I used to be—I felt like someone new, someone who just maybe might be worth caring for.