“You were right. I left because I am a mage,” she said at last. “My father was the only one who knew for sure. One day, he found me trying to cast a spell—I’d discovered the instructions among my mother’s belongings. He was enraged. It was the only time he hit me.” Except for a few days ago. She raised a hand to her cheek. “But for all that … he still loved me. If I had stayed, he knew the Duchess and the Justice would be my enemies. And so he told me to go to the City of Kings and never return. He told people nothing. He let it be believed that I had simply disappeared, or even that I was dead—he thought I would be safer that way.”

For a few moments, Xander was silent. “And why did you return?” he asked softly. He raised his fingers to her right hand, still resting on her cheek, held it in his own. It felt … good. Warm and strong.

“The storm cloud is a spell—the Justice is right about that, at least. For all these years, I’ve been learning about it. And now I’ve come back—to conquer it. To claim my birthright.” She raised her eyes to his. “Xander, this is my home too. I can’t let them take it from me.”

“How are you going to do it?” He was whispering now—and standing very close. His green eyes searched her own as he drew her hand from her cheek, pulled her into his body.

“Every spell has a heart.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “If I can just find it…”

He nodded, as though he understood, and she rested her cheek against his shoulder. “But, Constance … who cast the spell?” His hand was cradling the back of her head, as if it were something precious. She tilted her lips upward.

“My father believed it was Dr. Thorn, under the Justice’s instruction.”

“It is a twisted game he is playing,” Xander murmured. But he wasn’t concentrating on the story anymore, his eyes glowing and unfocused. He tilted her head back and rested his forehead against hers, and she felt his breath on her mouth, sweet and warm. But it was she who opened her lips and kissed him.

As if he’d been waiting for the signal, he pulled her closer, her body melding into his warmth. She relaxed. And the kiss warmed her deep inside, her skin burning as she sank into it, her heart beating faster as his arms encircled her waist, tighter and tighter. The kiss was insistent now.

Out of nowhere, Emris’s scarred face flashed into her mind, and Constance tensed up. Xander’s hands had started to roam across her back, reaching for the fastenings of her dress, but he hesitated as he sensed her discomfort.

“Are you all right?” he murmured into her ear.