Stolen Magic

STOLEN MAGIC

I nstead of returning to my cell, I drop myself in the corridor near where the guards always go when they’re not harassing us.

Shadows cling to the walls, broken only by faint shafts of light spilling from the guardroom. Each step forward presses the cold stone into my wet socks, the faint squelch sending my heart racing at the risk of being discovered.

I hold my breath, straining to hear any sound within the room. My eyes flick around the narrow hall, half-expecting a guard to appear from the end of the hallway, but all remains quiet.

As I peek around the doorway, a smirk tugs at my lips at what I find there. Typical. The guard sprawls in his chair, a snore rattling out of his open mouth.

Slipping inside, I study the rack of cloaks. Enchanted fabric shimmers in my altered vision, and I dance my fingers over the material, relishing the tingle of magic. I steal the one on the end, where it’s least likely to be noticed missing.

With it draped over my arm, I tiptoe back out.

Easy peasy.

Concealed by shadows, I pop into Esme’s cell.

She jolts upright on the cot, blindly staring around in alarm.

Perching beside her, I press a finger to her lips. “Shh, it’s me. I come bearing a gift.”

I flourish the cloak, draping it over her shoulders. She startles again, but confusion soon melts into disbelief as the shimmering fabric settles around her.

Her hands shake as she reaches up, fingertips brushing the delicate weave. A faint glow pulses from the cloak, casting her face in a soft light that makes it appear almost luminescent.

“I… I can feel it.” Her voice catches, and awe lights her expression. “Rowe, where did you… how did you get this?”

“Questions later,” I cut her off, hopping to my feet. “Right now, we’ve got more important matters to attend to. Like reuniting you with Zane.”

Esme bites her lip to stifle her excited gasp.

I clasp her hands, power dancing beneath her skin. “Okay, I need you to open yourself up and focus on Zane. Picture him in your mind. Let the warmth of him fill your heart. Can you do that for me?”

Esme nods and closes her eyes, dark lashes fanning over high cheekbones. Her breathing slows, intense concentration settling over her delicate features.

As I prepare to channel the spell, a wave of uncertainty gives me pause. I’ve never teleported anyone else before. I’m confident with myself, but taking someone else along, especially Esme, with so much at risk, feels like stepping off a cliff without knowing how far down it goes.

What if I mess up? What if the cloak’s enchantment isn’t strong enough, or worse, the magic dampeners detect us mid-teleport?

Imagining what could go wrong twists my stomach into knots. I take a breath, fighting the doubt.

Esme’s eyes meet mine, trust shining from their emerald depths. She squeezes my hands, steadying me. “I know you can do this, Rowe. I believe in you.”

With a steadying breath, I push back the doubts. Esme needs this. Zane needs this.

Even if it’s scary, I can’t let it stop me now.

My pulse calms, the rush of fear fading.

As Esme sinks into her magic, I feel a flutter deep within her, like the brush of wings. It’s a sensation I associate with the ethereal of air, life and freedom. Following my instincts, I latch onto the energy, feeding it within Esme to fuel her own magic.

Her fingers tighten around mine in response, the air around us crackling with electricity, raising the fine hairs on my arms.

Esme’s magic swells, a kaleidoscope of emerald and gold shot through with threads of deepest red. The colors of passion, of devotion. Of a love that transcends all boundaries.

With her vision leading the way, I release the last of my doubt and dive headfirst into the spell, trusting the pull of our combined power to guide us.

The world lurches, and a falling sensation sweeps over me. Reality blurs, my vision tunneling as Esme’s magic wrenches us across the cell block. My stomach drops, but I clench my jaw, refusing to let the nausea win.

A heartbeat later, the dizzying motion ceases, and the world snaps back into focus. Blinking, I take in our new surroundings. Familiar stone walls, a narrow cot, and a man with vibrant orange hair sleeping fitfully.

Esme sways, the expenditure of magic taking its toll. I slide an arm around her waist, steadying her against me.

She startles, a gasp flying from her lips, and I cover her mouth with my hand, stifling the noise. “Shh. We don’t want to draw the guards.”

Across the cell, Zane bolts upright. He stares around blindly before he locks in on our location. On our pounding hearts.

For a suspended moment, no one moves. Then, in a blur, Zane launches himself off the cot and flies to Esme, knocking me out of the way. He crushes his mate to his chest, strong arms banding around her slender frame as he buries his face in her chestnut waves.

A lump forms in my throat as I watch their reunion, the sheer depth of emotion radiating from them. The love they share makes me yearn for my own mates .

Feeling like an intruder, I pivot on my heel, turning my back to give the couple some privacy. Much as I want to celebrate our victory, Zane and Esme need this moment to themselves. To reaffirm their bond, to simply breathe each other in.

Zane’s voice breaks the intimate silence. “Rowe, if you can teleport more than just yourself now, you need to get Esme out of here. Take her somewhere safe.”

I turn around, but before I can respond, Esme beats me to the punch. “Absolutely not! I’m not leaving without you, Zane. We’re in this together.”

Zane’s expression softens, love warring with concern on his handsome face. He cradles Esme’s cheek, his thumb brushing over her delicate skin. “Sweetheart, think about our baby. It’s too dangerous for you here.”

Esme’s hand drifts to the slight bump of her stomach. I can only imagine the turmoil she must be experiencing, torn between her love for Zane and her maternal drive to keep their unborn child safe.

“He’s right,” Owen calls from the adjacent cell. “The Northern Trinity won’t play fair. It’s better if you and Esme get out while you can, Rowe.”

Annoyance flares through me, hot and sharp .

In a blink, I teleport into Owen’s cell, materializing mere inches from his handsome face.

“Listen up, Mr. Alpha.” I punctuate my words with a firm bop on his nose, voice trembling with my frustration. “I’m not leaving you behind, so don’t ask me to run away.”

Owen’s expression softens, and he reaches up to cup my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “Rowe, think about what’s best for you. You and Esme can get out. We can figure something out for Zane and me later.”

“That’s not good enough.” Pulse hammering, I tear my hand from his. “Do you really think I could walk out of here and leave you to whatever these maniacs have planned? After everything we’ve been through?”

His face hardens, jaw clenched tight. “I think you’re underestimating what they’re capable of. The Northern Trinity doesn’t show mercy, not to anyone who defies them. They’ll take everything from you.”

His voice drops to a whisper. “I can’t lose you again.”

The words slip through my defenses, planting icy fear in my chest. I turn my face away, my throat tight, nails digging into my palms. I want to shake him, make him see I can’t lose him, either, but the truth presses on me. I have no way of knowing how this will end.

What I do know is that they won’t take Owen from me.

“Don’t ask me to leave you like this,” I whisper. “Believe that I can protect us all.”

Owen’s hand slides around mine, pulling me close as he searches my face. “I believe in you. But I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret.”

“The only thing I’d regret is leaving you behind.” I let the ethereal glow from my eyes. “I’m not running away, Owen Hartford. There’s been enough of that already. Besides, I’m working on a plan.”

I plant my hands on my hips. “What do you think I’ve been doing all night?”

“Not sleeping?” A reluctant smile tugs at the corner of Owen’s mouth, revealing the hint of a dimple. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Let’s change that to tenacious .” With one hand on his shoulder, I lean down to kiss him just as the lights come on. “Oops, gotta go!”

I jump back to Zane’s cell and grab Esme, linking to her magic even before she opens to me to jump her back into her cell. “Hide the cape.”

As I teleport into my cell, dizziness sweeps over me, and I plop down on my mattress, all juiced out .

“Hey.” The call comes from Elias’s cell. “I know how you can escape without them chasing after you.”

Reluctantly, I turn toward him. “What are you up to now, old man?”

He grips his bars, his hungry gaze locked on me. “Take me with you, and I can get us all out of here without them chasing after us. They’ll forget we ever existed.”

It takes me a minute for it to click, and then I laugh in his face. “You can’t seriously be selling me my own mate’s superpower.”

Like Elias had gained the ability to turn into a thousand bats, Ros gained the ability to wipe people’s minds. Not that I’ve ever seen him use it. It’s a skill he only pulls out on missions to keep the paranormal hidden, and it doesn’t work on me as his mate.

Honestly, I forgot he could even mess with people’s memories until Elias brought it up.

Elias’s knuckles turn white around the bars. “He can’t do something on this level without my help. He’d burn himself out.”

“Not interested,” I say as the guard’s boots stomp down the stairs.

“You say that now, but you still have hope.” He backs away from the bars. “Let me know when the reality of your situation has set in.”

The boot stomps grow louder, echoing on the stones, and I rise on shaky legs to press against my cell bars.

A dozen guards file into the dungeon, their boots striking the floor in eerie, synchronized precision. There’s no shuffle or misstep, no whispered words. Each man moves with an uncanny unity, as if following the beat of a silent drum.

These aren’t our usual jailors who bring us meals and harass us.

They stop and turn in unison, fixing Owen and Zane with identical, emotionless stares.

They march forward, every footfall aligned. No one even glances in our direction. It’s as if Esme and I don’t exist to them. My pulse quickens, instinct warning me of the danger they present. Swords hang from their belts, while wands wait poised within their hands, ready to strike.

I rise onto my toes, trying to see Owen, but their bodies block my view. Stepping backward, I climb onto my cot to see over their heads.

Owen meets my gaze, the tightness in his expression revealing the worry he tries to hide. In the cell beside him, Zane stands tall, his expression set in a defiant scowl, but he appears smaller when faced with these men who seem almost inhuman in their unity.

“Hands where we can see them, inmates,” the lead guard barks, his voice cold.

Owen and Zane raise their hands into the air.

With a flick of the lead guard’s wrist, Owen and Zane’s cell doors swing open with a metallic scrape that echoes in the eerie silence. Two guards move forward in perfect formation to shackle our mates, their hands moving in unison, snapping each shackle shut with sharp efficiency.

“What the hell is going on? Where are you taking them?” I demand, my words falling on deaf ears.

“They’re not even acknowledging we exist,” Esme murmurs, her voice shaking.

She’s right. Not one guard acknowledges us. I feel like a ghost, watching them take away my childhood friend, my mate, my love with all the empathy of machines.

When they turn and begin their silent march toward the dungeon’s exit, I leap off my cot to reach between the bars, snagging one of their capes. “Tell us where you’re taking them!”

Cold eyes meet mine. “Their trials are scheduled for today. They will answer for their crimes against the council.”

“Our trials aren’t supposed to be until tomorrow!” I cry out, panic clawing at me to do something.

Owen meets my frantic gaze, his full of resignation. “It will be all right, love. Stay strong for me, okay?”

Hot tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them back. I won’t let these bastards see me break.

Zane twists to look back at Esme. “Don’t worry, my love. I’ll be with you soon.”

As they turn and march our mates toward the stairs, I yank on the cape I still hold. “Wait, we’re supposed to be at their trial to testify. Why are you leaving us here?”

With a flick, he snaps his cape from my hold. “Mates have been deemed too biased. Your testimony has been denied.”

“What?” I grab for his cape again, but he swishes it out of reach. “That’s not fair!”

He doesn’t stop again, and the guards marched out of sight.

The dungeon door slams shut with a bang of finality, leaving us behind .

“We can’t let them get away with this!” Esme kicks her bars. “This is a mockery of justice!”

“Damn straight it is!” My mind races, trying to come up with some kind of plan.

Short of storming the trial room, though, I don’t know what we can do.

“Can you take us there?” Esme demands.

“To do what? Get thrown back in here in more trouble?” I walk to my cot and fall onto it, struggling to calm my pulse. “Ros will stand up for Zane. He’ll be okay.”

The loose stone between our cells pulls free, and Esme reaches through. I take her hand, holding it tight, and neither of us mention that, as my mate, Ros won’t be able to speak for Owen. Which leaves only Aspen to defend my mate.

Plan B is beginning to feel less like a last resort and more like an inevitability.