Page 52 of Stolen Magic (All That Glitters #2)

T ime passed quietly. Days slipped into weeks as I relearned the rhythms of court and studied magic under the cautious eye of a royal mage—not Lord Velgrin, but Serephine, the powerful and patient woman who’d promised to help me learn to control my released powers.

From time to time, I caught glimpses of the king’s advisor, though he seemed just as eager to avoid me as I was him.

In the beginning, I wasn’t sure I could bear to work alongside him—let alone serve in the same court—but time had shifted my perspective.

I’d come to know the people of Eldoria and realize they were not my enemies—a brave and kind and resilient people, and they were who I was serving as I studied harness my abilities and master the spell of life.

Though the sight of Lord Velgrin never failed to make me shudder and recall the worst day of my life, I refused to allow bitterness to define me.

Callan had promised to depose him as soon as he became king, and with the current king no longer dispatching him to plunder magic from foreign lands and with my work on the spell nearly complete, Velgrin’s days of destruction were at an end…

if I could finish what I’d promised to do.

My skills slowly returned like leaves budding after a long, bitter winter.

While I initially struggled with using my magic for the kingdom I’d spent my life hating, I chose to serve Callan and the people he would one day lead, not the king and his murderous advisor.

Eventually I found peace and even meaning in honing my skill, preparing to one day cast the spell of life.

I had once imagined this very life: surrounded by the magic I’d spent years longing for, free from poverty, spending my days with someone becoming more like a sister with each passing day.

But these moments of joy were overshadowed by the agony for the man I couldn’t have. Their courtship unfolded like a slow play, polite and tender. He always offered his arm, smiled when she spoke, and she matched each of his efforts in her gentle, steady way and quiet grace.

Each time I saw Callan with Gwen my heart clenched.

I told myself it was enough just to be near him—to catch glimpses of his smile and laughter, to brush past him in the gardens without a word—but those fleeting moments only deepened my longing.

Especially when he began to seek me out more often—asking about my studies, or lingering in doorways watching me in the moments when duty and silence won.

Each encounter became a test of my resolve, loyalty I clung to like armor.

I was afraid that if I let my guard down, I’d betray them both all over again…

but in truth, I was most terrified to allow myself to be happy without him.

Some nights when I lay awake with the moonlight glinting off the pendant he’d given me as I traced each wooden curve of the fleur-de-lis, I wondered if I would be strong enough to stay.

The ache of watching him belong to someone else while I did my best to remain loyal in the background hollowed me more with each passing day.

Yet it didn’t take long before I began to see past my own heartache to how the courtship seemed to be affecting Gwen. She had always carried herself with the grace of her crown—soft smiles, kind words, and the compassion and dignity of someone raised to lead.

To my deep concern, I began to notice the subtle cracks in her poise—the way her shoulders slumped when she thought no one was watching; the dark circles beneath her eyes, evidence of too many sleepless nights; how her fingers drifted, almost absently, to the pendant at her throat, clutching it like a lifeline; how often her gaze would go distant, as if searching for something that couldn’t be found within the walls of the palace.

One afternoon, I found her alone in the solar, curled in the window seat with a book open across her lap, though I doubted she’d turned a page in some time. The late sunlight bathed her in a soft gold haze, highlighting the furrow in her brows and the quiet tension in her features.

She looked up as I entered, and though she offered a smile, it didn’t quite reach her weary eyes. She patted the cushion beside her. “Come and sit. You always bring better company than my thoughts.”

I hesitated, then crossed the room and joined her. We’d grown closer these past weeks, much more than I deserved. She no longer treated me like a servant, but as a friend and sister, generosity that made the feelings I harbored all the more unbearable.

She was silent a thoughtful moment. “Do you ever miss home?” she asked softly.

Memories stirred, faded echoes of my mother and a childhood filled with warmth and laughter long since reduced to ash, reminiscences that were now only alive in my heart.

“Every day.” Yet somehow, the palace I’d once loathed was beginning to feel less like an enemy fortress and almost like the home I’d lost, something I hadn’t known I could still find… though not without Callan.

She nodded, drawing her knees closer. “I thought it would get better once I found my place here and Callan and I drew closer.”

My heart stuttered at the mention of him, invoking all the cherished memories that only I carried from our time together, the things I missed about him that we would never experience together again—each tender word, the ghost of his touch, the warmth in his gaze from a time he no longer remembered.

I kept my expression neutral so as not to betray my treacherous feelings.

“It appeared as though you were adjusting well,” I said carefully. “That you and His Highness were enjoying your time together.”

The jealousy I fought continuously surged anew, a silent betrayal I loathed myself for. I sincerely wanted her to be happy, but my earnest desire didn’t make the envy disappear.

She sighed. “I believe we’ve become friends. But no matter how hard I try, it hasn’t become anything more. I keep wondering if something’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” I said at once. There was no one more deserving of love than her.

She gave me a tired smile. “You’re kind to say so. I do admire Callan—he’s steady, thoughtful, and deeply good. I hoped, in time, something deeper might grow between us. But it’s been months now, and though there’s affection…it’s like trying to plant seeds in winter soil; nothing has taken root.”

I said nothing, not trusting myself to speak without revealing too much.

She looked away, her voice quieter now. “I know that marriage is often about duty more than love and have accepted that, but part of me still wonders whether I’m allowed to hope for more.”

Her gaze returned to mine, and for a moment, it felt as though she could see straight through me, as if she could peer into my heart to see the secrets buried there.

Though I’d confessed the truth of my deception, I hadn’t shared the full details of how our fake courtship had unfolded, how real it had become for me, and just how much I had grown to love the man I had shared it with.

I wasn’t sure how much to protect her…but with the softness in her eyes, I realized she was inviting me to confide in her.

The silence stretched between us, and Gwen turned her gaze back to the gardens below.

I followed her line of sight and my heart gave a traitorous leap—Callan walked the cobblestone path alongside a visiting diplomat, his head bent in quiet conversation.

I had thought I’d grown used to him haunting the edges of every thought, but even from this distance, the sight of him made my chest ache.

“I don’t think I can do this.” I didn’t realize I had spoken aloud until the words had already escaped. Gwen said nothing, but I felt her watching me with a quiet, knowing look—not unkind, simply accepting, another invitation to be brave and trust her.

Because of the relationship we’d rekindled from the ashes of my betrayal, I knew now that I could.

I stared down at my hands nervously twisting in my lap.

“For as much as I care for you and for everything our friendship means to me, I don’t think I’m strong enough to remain in your service, not for what it costs my heart.

Every time I see him, it feels like something inside me is unraveling.

I thought I could be selfless enough to bear it, but I’m not. ”

I paused, waiting for her to condemn me, but her silence urged me to continue. The words spilled faster now, as if I could no longer hold them back.

“I thought I could be honorable and watch your romance from a distance and accept the life you and he are building together. But I can’t help thinking about the day you’ll marry, the day your first child is born, the life you’ll share…

and I don’t know if I’m strong enough to watch it unfold.

As much as I long for your happiness, it’s agony.

I know my pain isn’t your fault or his, nor am I asking anything of you. I just thought you deserved the truth.”

Another silence followed, long and heavy. I couldn’t bring myself to look at her, afraid at the emotion I might find in her eyes, that my honesty would ruin the fragile bond we were carefully trying to rebuild.

When she eventually spoke, her voice came softly. “How do you feel about him?” There was no accusation in her tone, just the chance to unlock the last door in my guarded heart.

I took a wavering breath and met her eyes. “I love him, Gwen.”

The confession was barely more than a whisper, as if the words themselves were a delicate spell I knew would change everything. “For your sake, I wish I didn’t, but even though I know I shouldn’t feel this way I do, and I hate myself for it.”

The air around us trembled with everything left unspoken. When the silence grew unbearable, I finally summoned enough courage to glance at her. To my surprise, Gwen didn’t appear angry, merely pensive, as if turning something heavy over in her mind.