“You never did tell me the whole truth,” said Xander. He was very pale and still, his breath shallow, his voice low.

She shook her head.

“Constance, why couldn’t you trust me?”

“I didn’t lie to you,” she said. She edged closer to him, craving the warmth of his body. The palms of her hands sank into the rotten straw at the cell’s edge, but she hardly felt it.

“Perhaps not technically. But you lied in every way that matters. You were tactical. You revealed only what you felt you could trust me with, what I needed to know.” He tried to sit up, winced, and fell back on his elbows. “You treated me like an ally. Not like the … the friend that I am.”

She pressed herself against the bars, reached through, and clasped his fingers in her hand. The fingertips were hot. He tried to shuffle closer and winced again with the effort, his breath thick. “Stop,” she said, now holding his hand properly. “Just stay there.” Suddenly she was scared. Although he wasn’t bleeding, and he was awake at last, the Justice’s men might have caused some invisible damage inside Xander’s body. She was no expert, but he looked feverish and his labored breathing—could he have cracked a rib? Could the rib be pressing into his lung?

Stop thinking. Just stop.

She rested her forehead against the cold, damp bars and shut her eyes. She sighed.

“I’m here for the storm cloud. I don’t want regrets, or recriminations, or tears, or broken dreams, or anything except the heart of the spell.” Her throat felt tight with frustration. “I’ve looked everywhere. My powers are strong. I had everything I needed. Why can’t I find it? Why?”

“Could it have left the city?” Xander said quietly.

“No,” she snapped. “It has to have been here while the spell was growing. That’s the way it works. And because of the quarantine, no one has left since…” Since…

Oh gods.

She had passed a girl in the woods. The mage. She had helped her. “Oh … Jurah’s tits, Xander! It was the cryptling girl. The girl had it!” She laughed, a strange melancholy sound in the dark stone of the cell. And then she fell quiet. “How am I supposed to reach her now?”

Silence. She pressed closer against the bars, her mind spinning.

But when Xander spoke, his voice was gentle and low, and he squeezed her hand. “Constance, I know you can do it. You’re special. To everyone and … to me. It’s always been you. Since forever. You know that deep down, don’t you? Even though I’ve never said it. And there’s never been anybody else. How could I not love you?”

Despite herself, she felt tears threaten. She blinked them away, wished she could be the person he thought she was.

“I only wish you felt the same.”