He appeared to read the mix of shame, fear, and anger chasing each other across her face. “I know you’re a mage, Constance,” Xander said again. “And I could have told everyone after I saw you that first night. But I didn’t. Your secret is safe with me.” He said it sharply, as if rebuking her for daring to think otherwise. “Once I knew that, a lot fell into place. Your disappearance six years ago. The strange happenings before you left—the small fires, the broken things.” He was warming to his subject, his eyes flashing. “It was your magic, wasn’t it? At the time, I thought someone—perhaps the Duchess—was trying to drive you away. And when you vanished, part of me wondered if they’d succeeded. Why on earth didn’t you tell me all those years ago? You could have saved me a lot of pain.”

She was silent, her pulse racing, her eyes downcast. She hadn’t thought of it like that before. Hadn’t thought what her disappearance might have meant to the few people who had cared about her. Finally, she found her voice. “I was afraid,” she whispered. Truth.

“You thought I was just like everyone else? Didn’t I mean more to you than that?”

She stole a glance at him, watched as he ran a hand through his long, dark hair in frustration. A sudden tenderness rushed over her and she reached out, touching his hand lightly and stopping it in its tracks.

His voice softened, and he stepped closer. “Constance, my mother was a foreigner just like yours—and for all our noble blood, the people of Duke’s Forest will never let us forget that we’re different. My skin is the wrong color. You might look like your father, but inside you’re different too. You’re putting on a good front, but sooner or later everyone here will know you’re not like them. We’re not like them. You should have known I would understand. It doesn’t change how I feel.”

She shook her head, wordless. The sound of her heart pattered inside her skull like a squall of rain.

“And there are so many more lies, more things you are hiding from me. Why are you searching the crypts, Constance? What are you looking for? Look at me.”

She glanced up at his face. To her surprise, she saw he did not despise her. He was … confused. Angry. But he didn’t hate her.

“Let me help you,” he said hoarsely, grasping her hand more tightly in his. She couldn’t help the way her heart soared.

“Xander, I promise I will tell you everything. But here is not the place,” she said at last. Her voice barely sounded like her own. “We should not be seen returning together.”

“But—”