Magic Swap (Hidden World Academy Book 1)

by Sadie Moss

  “Besides,” Kasian adds a few minutes later. “You are not useless, Gabbi. You might not have magic, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have some incredible talents.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Theo glances over at Kasian, something sparking in his gray eyes as he nods slowly, like he’s putting a puzzle together in his head.

  “Well, you managed to fool the entire campus for almost an entire semester,” he drawls, his accented voice pouring into my ears like honey. “With very few clues or guidelines to help you. After I realized you weren’t Roxie, I assumed others would catch on quickly too, but you adapted quickly, thought on your feet, and built a very solid cover.”

  “You fooled me,” Kasian adds. “And Bianca, who’s known Roxie for almost a decade.”

  “Yeah, sure, I gave you some help,” Cross adds, clearly guessing what I’m about to say, “but not that much. I did what I could, but you still had your work cut out for you. And you managed it. No magic required.”

  My chest warms as all three men look at me with pride in their eyes, smiling softly. I have to duck my head down in a futile attempt to hide my blush. “Thanks, guys,” I whisper.

  “Although,” Kasian adds, “I’m very glad I know the truth now. I like you much better, knowing who you really are.”

  “Oh, I think we’re all in agreement on that, mate,” Theo says, chuckling. Then he turns to me. “Just think how easy it will be once we get that charm for you. You’ll be able to cast proper spells on your own, without having to rely on us.”

  “I’ll still need you,” I say quickly, because I don’t want them to think I only keep them around for their help with the magic.

  Cross laughs. “Oh, you’ll definitely still need us, cupcake. Who else is gonna look out for you while we work on getting you back home, huh?”

  I might be imagining it, but I think I detect a trace of heaviness in his voice that he’s straining to cover up. Does he not want me to go home? They all like me, clearly. I don’t doubt that. But liking someone enough, having strong enough feelings for them, that you want them to stay with you, that’s… that’s a whole other level.

  I don’t want to make things awkward or sad, so I don’t comment on it. Theo picks up the slack immediately anyway, thank God.

  “Of course, I’m not just bringing up your ability to pretend to be other people out of the goodness of my heart,” he says.

  “You have goodness in your heart?” Kasian’s lips quirk up. God, I love it when he’s snarky.

  Theo flips him off. “I also brought it up because I think that it could be the key to our little plan.”

  Wait, what?

  I drag my gaze away from Kasian to truly focus on Theo, my brows drawing together.

  “It could?”

  Cross sits up on the bed, and Kasian leans forward, the two of them alert. I don’t think they know where Theo’s going with this, but they’re as curious as I am.

  Theo nods. “I think we’ve been looking at this whole heist business from the wrong angle. Making it too complicated for ourselves. When instead, we can just use Gabbi’s natural talents to our advantage.”

  He’s got a wicked gleam in his eye, and I realize there’s a very good chance I’m not going to like where this is going.

  Warily, I ask him, “What do you have in mind?”

  Chapter 31

  I would like to state, for the official record, that I do not like this plan one bit, and it was not my idea.

  “This is not what I had in mind!” I tell Theo as he drives.

  “You have another plan?” he shoots back, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.

  “Sure, I’ve got plenty.”

  “A plan that will work,” he amends.

  Fuck.

  He’s kind of got me there. I’m sure I could make some sort of plan work, if I had more time to think about it and more information. But we’re on a deadline, and not just the whole I’m pretending to be Roxie and I need magic deadline. I mean, the fact that tonight’s our only real chance to steal King Anzac’s prize for him, and that we’re out of options.

  Which is why I’m currently sulking in the back of a limo, dressed to the nines, while the three men in the car with me are all wearing tuxedos.

  I have to admit, they each look amazing. Kasian’s wearing this tuxedo made out of dark blue, slightly shiny material that I just want to run my hands all over. Cross is wearing classic black and rocking it, somehow managing to look even more roguish and dangerous in this than in his usual leather jacket. And Theo’s apparently decided he’s willing to risk red wine and is wearing a white tux with a pale pink tie and pocket square.

  And then there’s me.

  Ugh.

  I’m wearing what can only be described as a full-on ballgown, with gauzy layered tulle that flows down from my waist. It’s not quite as slinky as something Roxie would probably wear, but it is pretty low cut, with a strapless corset style bodice, meaning I’m showing off a hell of a lot of skin up top. Besides, it doesn’t matter if it looks like something Roxie would wear or not, because for this mission, that’s not the role I’ll be playing.

  I don’t really mind the dress, to be honest, even though it’s not really my style either. What I mind is… this plan.

  I smooth down my skirt for the dozenth time. “Seriously, Theo, do we have to do this?”

  “He’s right,” Kasian replies, and I almost do a double-take. Wow, that’s not something I ever thought I’d hear him say. “This is the simplest plan. And keeping it simple means there are fewer parts that could go wrong. Besides, we don’t have time for anything else.”

  Darn it. I know all that, but I had to at least ask one last time.

  “Hey, if nothing else,” Cross murmurs, leaning in and trailing a finger down the slope of my shoulder, “you look damn good in that dress, Gabs.”

  I can see the heat in his gaze, and when I look at Kasian and Theo, the same fire burns in their eyes as well.

  It sends a thrill through my stomach, and I wish I could ask Theo to drive around the block a few more times, or better yet, find somewhere to park so I could tear their tuxes off one by one.

  But I can’t.

  We’re on a deadline here.

  Which means we’re stuck with Theo’s plan, as much as I hate it.

  The task King Anzac has requested of us is to steal a ring.

  When he first told us that’s what he wanted, I was a little upset. After all, this whole thing started because the fae were pissed at Roxie for stealing something. The fact that he was asking me to turn around and do the same thing had felt very hypocritical.

  I think King Anzac was actually impressed by my sense of honor, but he was quick to explain that the ring is actually of fae origin. The man who has it now stole it from them years ago—or, rather, his grandfather did.

  Apparently, a lot of people used to steal from the fae, although it doesn’t happen as often anymore, because they’ve all seen what happens to people who do it and get caught.

  Nowadays, the family claims the ring is a “family heirloom,” and the guy—a foreign dignitary who’s in Valencia for just a few days— wears it all the time to various social and political functions.

  The ring grants the wearer a couple of useful powers, warning them of assassination attempts—helpful for a political family—and giving them the ability to inspire others through speech.

  After King Anzac assured me that we’d really just be returning the ring to its rightful owners, I agreed to the job.

  I didn’t see how I could refuse, really. If I asked for something else, the fae king would probably have seen it as a sign of bad faith or cowardice and wouldn’t have trusted me to keep my word. I couldn’t afford that.

  So that’s why we’re all dressed to the nines, on our way to the Golden Rose Charity Ball and Gala.

  It’s one of the biggest events of the year, and all the important people from Valencia will be there, as well as various politic
al figures from overseas.

  The dignitary we’re after, Anton St. Claire, is one of those. He arrived yesterday from France, and if we miss our chance to steal the ring from him now, we won’t get another shot unless we fly across the ocean to nab it from him.

  King Anzac is particularly concerned about avoiding that.

  There are other fae kingdoms in the world, and if St. Claire goes back to his home country, he’ll be above the realm of a different fae ruler, and King Anzac can’t send any of his own people without encroaching on their territory. He could technically have us go, since we’re human and not bound by fae law, but it’s a gray area that he’d rather avoid.

  And frankly, with everything on my plate, an impromptu trip to France doesn’t sound like that great of an idea to me either, tempting as it may be.

  We considered stealing the ring from St. Claire while he was sleeping in his hotel room, but breaking and entering, trying to get past his security detail, using an enchantment to make sure he wouldn’t wake up… it all just seemed too complicated.

  And he travels with a couple of bodyguards, so that makes going after him on the street a no-go.

  But at the ball, St. Claire will be surrounded by strangers who are all eager to talk to him. His bodyguards will be mingling with the other security members at the perimeter, which will give me a chance to slip close enough to him to steal the ring.

  All of this requires me actually getting into the ball, of course, so here’s hoping we can manage that. Roxie is from an important local family, and Theo’s family is no slouch either, but neither of us are on the guest list. Kasian and Cross just laughed hysterically when I asked if they’d be on the list.

  To circumvent that little issue, the guys are going to cast an illusion spell on me as we pull up to the event. They’re posing as my bodyguards, and I’m going to look like an important person who was left off the list this year: Princess Anya Dragimirova, a member of the Russian nobility.

  The Russian family is so big and sprawling that even after the whole “execute the Romanovs” thing, there are still a lot of members of royalty and nobility around. I can’t even begin to sort out the differences between what happened leading up to WWI in my world versus this world—I mean, here they had dragons involved and shit—but I know that Princess Anya is a third cousin of whoever would’ve inherited the throne if they’d still been alive.

  Her title doesn’t really count for much politically, but it allows her to live among the upper levels of society. She’s apparently quite active, both in the jet-setting life, hanging out with the children of millionaires and billionaires, as well as in the charitable life, raising money for things like ending world hunger and promoting women’s education.

  She sounds like a decent enough person, and the good thing is, she’s my age and has a similar build. The more illusions you have to layer on a person, the more power and concentration it takes to maintain, so the fact that I’m already the same height and body shape as the princess makes this whole thing easier.

  Princess Anya attended the Golden Rose Charity Ball last year, but this year she’s doing some kind of yoga retreat run by nagas. As a result, she was either not invited or never RSVP’d to her invitation, which means we can take advantage of her absence.

  We pull up, and the three men put their hands together, beginning to move their fingers in harmony to create the illusion spell. With all three of them making the spell, it’ll be a stronger illusion, and then if one of them is distracted, hopefully the spell will still hold because the other two have layered their illusions onto me as well.

  I hold up a photograph of the princess for them to stare at as they make the magic happen, the illusion attaching itself to me like a second skin. A strange buzzing sensation surrounds me, almost like an electric hum, but only I can hear and feel it.

  “Okay.” Kasian nods in satisfaction. “That looks good. Let’s go.”

  I put the picture away and turn on my phone’s camera to get a good look at myself, turning my head side to side a little. It’s disconcerting to see a different person looking back at me. The princess has an arch look about her, from the high curve of her eyebrows to the long, arrow-straight nose, that screams aristocrat.

  Let’s hope this’ll get me through the doors.

  Kasian slides out first, then holds out his hand to help me out of the car. Theo deals with the valet, and Cross double-checks the car to make sure nothing suspicious is left inside. “You can’t trust the valet, or any customer service worker, not to snoop,” he explained earlier. “And, hell, I don’t blame them. I’ve snooped too when it was me.”

  Fair enough. I’ve worked customer service jobs, and they’re the worst, so I don’t really blame anyone either. But in this case, we’re not super rich people who might have left something behind they can steal—and if we’ve left behind any incriminating information, it could spell doom for the whole thing.

  None of the men take my arms as I walk up the steps of the white marble building, although I wish they would. But they’re not here as my dates—they’re here to pretend to be my bodyguards.

  A red carpet has been laid out, and cameras flash around us as we ascend the stairs. Holding my skirt carefully pinched between my index finger and thumb, I try to walk in a poised manner, remembering my ballet training.

  Leg muscles twisted outward like barber shop poles, feet out, step with your toes first, arms held like they’re light as air, pretend you’re holding delicate eggshells in your armpits, swan neck, chin up.

  It’s been forever since I did ballet, but it was the first kind of dance I learned, and they really drill that kind of shit into you.

  As we near the top of the steps, I see several people with clipboards checking everyone in.

  Okay. Maybe I can just try to walk past.

  Even if I fail, the princess seems like the kind of person who would just sweep inside and forget that she was supposed to have her name checked off at the door. Besides, confidence goes a long way; if you act like you belong somewhere, people will often just assume that you do. I try to walk past the most nervous looking of the people with the clipboards, hoping that she’ll let me pass without asking.

  Maybe I don’t look quite confident enough though, because the woman with the clipboard stops me. She looks very dashing in a black tuxedo, her hair gathered on top of her head in a pile of purple braids, but she also looks like she’s exhausted. I can only imagine how many people have yelled at her tonight.

  “Hi, sorry, name please?” she asks.

  “Yes, I am the Princess Anya Dragamirova.” I’ve been practicing a bit, but my Russian accent is probably… er… not all that good. Hopefully one of the guys will speak for me next. Princesses can’t be expected to just speak for themselves all the time, can they?

  The woman flips through her list. “I’m—I’m sorry, your highness, but I’m not seeing your name anywhere on here.”

  I really hate to do this to her, but I have to play the part, and I have to get into this damn party.

  “What?” I say, struggling to hold on to the Russian accent as I raise my voice. I’m trying to straddle the line between being dignified and throwing a fit. “Are you blind or can you simply not read, hmm? You know who I am, yes? You have seen me, have you not? You’ve seen me at this very party, this very ball, last year I was here and now you say, you say that I am not good enough anymore for this event, eh? Is that so?”

  I can feel Cross trying to stifle a chuckle behind me, and I’d like to glare at him and tell him if he thinks it’s so damn funny, maybe he could jump in and help me out here. But a princess wouldn’t address her bodyguard like that, would she?

  Fortunately, Kasian elbows him in the ribs for me, and I keep my attention on the woman with the clipboard.

  “What?” I demand, and she turns a little pale. “Are you deaf as well as blind? Eh? You cannot see who I am?”

  Man, I feel awful for this. I’ve never yelled at a customer service per
son in my life before. I just hope the rest of this poor woman’s night goes better than this. Maybe some super rich, handsome guest will decide he likes her and sweep her off her feet.

  “I’m—I’m so sorry, your highness,” the woman stammers. “I’ll—of course, you can just go right in, it’s no problem. You’ve so generously donated in the past, they can’t possibly… object to you being here. I’m very sorry for the mix-up. Please, enjoy your evening.” She gives a nervous smile, stepping to one side.

  “Dah.” It’s the only Russian word I know. I give her a smile that I hope looks icy and dismissive, and not just like I’m slightly constipated.

  Then I sweep past her, and the three men nod at her as they follow me. All of them are doing a really good job of acting the part of bodyguards, with blank, professional faces, and their gazes dismissively scanning the room like they’re checking for security threats but don’t really think there will be any.

  We step into the massive, elegant building and follow the flow of people toward the large ballroom where the gala is being held.

  Two well-dressed staff members open the double doors for us, and as we enter the ballroom, my jaw drops.

  Holy shit.

  Chapter 32

  This whole time, I’ve watched magic be used for practical things, in a classroom setting—or just as a part of daily life. I’ve never seen it used for something like this before.

  Glittering chandeliers that seem to be made of colored light fragments float over the heads of guests, while champagne flows from a gorgeous fountain toward the back, the splash of the liquid sounding like the chiming of bells.

  There’s a long table on one side that holds an entire miniature forest made out of chocolate, with small, enchanted chocolate animals running through it. Everyone is dressed to the nines in glittering formalwear, luxurious fabric that’s been enhanced by magic to glow and sparkle and even give off small plumes of colored smoke.

  I notice a few people have brought what look like little animal companions—there’s a woman with a phoenix sitting on her shoulder, and a man with what appears to be a small baby dragon on a leash at his feet.