But his voice grew even harder. “Answer me. Why did you leave? And why did you return?”

“Look at you, taking the high ground,” she said, stepping out of his reach. “I suppose things look so simple from all the way up there. It’s complicated, Lord Irvine, and I can’t tell you why. But I can tell you it isn’t idle ambition. It’s important. It’s sad that I even have to tell you that—I thought you knew me better.” What she had said was true, and she infused her voice with outrage. She could have lied to him, she supposed. But she didn’t want to—besides, it wasn’t a good idea. If you build a tower of lies, someday it will fall and crush you, the High Priestess had once told her. Build your lies as false bricks into a tower of truth, so that no one can tell them apart. “Why can’t you just trust me?”

His face settled into something sterner. “I would never have questioned the Constance I knew six years ago. But that Constance disappeared, and I’m not exactly sure who has returned.” He leaped from the ledge and spoke in a voice low with mingled anger and tenderness. “Tell me one thing … Did I mean anything to you at all?” Before she could reply, he attacked—one, two, three, four times, metal clashing each time she parried, driving her farther and farther back. Her muscles protested, burning painfully.

“Hey!” she managed as he attacked again, shocked at the ferocity of the strike. She stepped on the hem of her cloak and tumbled backward to the stony ground, her sword crashing down beside her.

Irvine lowered his blade. He still looked angry, but a smile tugged again at the corners of his mouth. “Sorry.”

“You’ve been practicing,” huffed Constance. “And I ought to get extra points for fencing in a party dress.”

She took his proffered hand and stumbled to her feet. Irvine laughed. A flash of blue lightning lit up his smile—and suddenly she was laughing too. For a few moments, their easy friendship had returned.

“Tell me one more thing,” said Irvine, through a smile. “Why won’t you call me by my name?”

She snorted. “All right, Lord Alexander Irvine.”

“You used to call me Xander.” He was serious again. “We were the best of friends. More than friends…”