"I want a divorce."
Duchess Bianca pushed the parchment across the desk toward Duke Peregrine, who sat behind it with a quill in hand, seemingly absorbed in whatever he was writing.
His long silver hair fell in soft curls over his shoulder, and the candlelight caught the burn scar marking the right side of his face.
For a moment, he did not react. Then he slowly exhaled, and every candle in the room flickered.
Bianca gulped.
It wasn’t only the candles on his desk. Every flame seemed to tremble at once, their light dancing wildly across the walls as though the very air had become afraid of him.
Bianca held her breath.
Her husband was the most powerful summoner in the kingdom, the only man who had ever summoned a primordial beast and the only one who possessed a primordial fire dragon as his familiar.
If he wished, he could reduce everything in this room to ashes with a flick of his fingers. Her request might anger him, but she had to do this.
Three years of marriage, and she was still a virgin.
Yes. She wanted a divorce.
Peregrine finally raised his head, and the flickering candlelight deepened the shadows across his face. His amber eyes seemed to glow with a reddish hue, as though molten fire were stirring beneath the surface of a volcano, waiting for the slightest provocation to erupt.
"Divorce?"
His voice was a low rumble, deep and resonant, like the earth trembling in warning before a volcano erupted.
Bianca’s heart skipped. She lowered her gaze, unable to withstand the intensity of his eyes for too long, but that turned out to be a mistake.
Her gaze landed on the open collar of his shirt instead, and she found herself staring at the broad expanse of his chest. The hard planes of muscle caught the candlelight with every subtle movement, and despite all her efforts, her eyes lingered.
Oh... to touch that.
The thought alone sent a flush creeping up her neck.
To run my tongue over those hard planes...
She pressed her lips and quickly looked away. Of all the things she should have been thinking about while asking her husband for a divorce, his chest should not have been one of them.
But it was.
It always was.
"I..." Bianca tried again. She never got to finish.
Peregrine was suddenly in front of her. After all, he had been named after one of the fastest hunters in the world, and Bianca barely had time to gasp before his arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her toward him.
Her back met the wall, and his body followed, leaving barely any space between them. His chest pressed against hers, and her breath caught.
"Divorce..." he repeated, his voice dropping to a whisper as his gaze shifted toward the parchment on his desk.
The paper burst into flames.
Bianca watched it curl at the edges before it crumbled into ash.
"You dare think about leaving me?"
The words should have frightened her. Instead, warmth curled low in her stomach.
Peregrine leaned closer, so close that she could feel his breath against her skin. Bianca’s fingers curled instinctively against his shirt. She should have pushed him away. She knew she should.
Yet... instead of resisting, she tilted her head back, and when his warm breath brushed her cheek, a shiver ran down her spine.
Then his other hand moved.
Before she could understand what he intended, his fingers gathered the fabric of her skirt and slipped beneath it. He lifted her and drew her leg around his waist, pulling her closer until there was no room left between them.
Bianca’s stomach flipped.
His palm was hot against her skin, the warmth of his touch spreading slowly along her thigh like a spark catching dry kindling. His breath was warm against her lips, his chest firm against hers, and his familiar scent surrounded her.
It was all too much, yet beneath the embarrassment and dizzying desire was something strangely comforting.
This was Peregrine. Her Peregrine.
Her husband.
The man she had yearned for so long that she could no longer remember what it was like not to want him.
"Your Grace..." she whispered, the words escaping as little more than a breathless whimper.
"Little Duchess," he murmured against her lips. "I won’t let you go."
His amber eyes remained fixed on hers, sharp as a falcon’s, while his imposing aura pressed around her with the overwhelming force of a dragon.
Bianca’s throat tightened, and for a moment she forgot how to breathe. Her fingers clutched the front of his shirt as though it were the only thing keeping her upright.
His hand moved higher along her thigh.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly as his lips brushed the corner of hers. The warmth of him seemed to seep into every part of her, leaving her dizzy with a longing she had spent three years trying to pretend she didn’t have.
And finally, his hand reached...
***Thud***
Something heavy landed on her foot.
The entire carriage shook, and the rhythmic thunder of horses’ hooves surrounded her.
"Your Grace, we’re almost here."
Bianca gasped and opened her eyes.
For several seconds, she stared blankly at the maid in front of her before blinking and looking around.
The wall was gone. So was Peregrine. There was no desk, no burning parchment, and certainly no powerful duke holding her against anything.
There was only the plush carriage seat beneath her, the curtains swaying beside her, and the familiar streets of Lysaria passing outside.
Her heart was still pounding.
Bianca slowly pressed a hand against her chest and felt the frantic beat beneath her palm. She could still remember the heat of her husband’s body, the warmth of his breath, the feel of his hand against her thigh.
The memory was so vivid that heat rushed straight to her face. She snatched up the fan resting on her lap and began fanning herself.
"Your Grace?" her maid asked gently. "Are you all right?"
"I..." Bianca swallowed. "I’m fine."
Her gaze dropped to the floor, where the book that had landed on her foot was still lying.
Her eyes widened.
She hurriedly bent down and snatched it up before her maid could get a proper look at the cover, clutching it against her chest.
An Introduction to Noblewoman’s Household Accounting.
Perfectly respectable. Perfectly educational. Perfectly innocent.
There was only one tiny problem.
The book contained absolutely nothing about household accounting.
Bianca had replaced the contents herself. It was a scandalously romantic tale about a noblewoman who demanded a divorce from her cold, devastatingly handsome husband, only to discover that divorcing him was apparently the fastest way to end up in his bed.
Her cheeks burned hotter.
She had been reading it far too often lately, and apparently three years of marriage without so much as a kiss from her husband had finally driven her imagination beyond all reason.
She tucked the book beneath the folds of her dress, cleared her throat, and stared straight ahead with as much dignity as she could gather.
The carriage came to a halt, and the door opened.
With all the grace she had spent years perfecting... and, more often than not, pretending, Bianca stepped down from the carriage.
It was court season in the Kingdom of Lysaria, which meant charity auctions, lavish weddings, endless banquets, and enough social obligations to make even the most dutiful noblewoman long for the solitude of a dungeon.
Bianca sighed.
Today’s event was a charity auction. As the Duchess of Valois, she was expected to contribute something suitably extravagant, then watch it sell for an absurd price simply because it belonged to her household.
She would also be expected to bid on someone else’s equally ridiculous treasure for an equally ridiculous sum, because apparently that was how noble families demonstrated their generosity.
Ah, the struggles of being a wealthy duchess.
"Her Grace, Lady Bianca Perla Valeraine, Duchess of Valois, Margravine of the Borderlands, and niece by marriage to the Crown."
The herald’s voice rang across the entrance.
Bianca lifted her chin and stepped onto the red carpet. Her deep-blue gown swept elegantly around her feet, its color almost identical to her eyes, while the expression on her face remained calm and graceful, exactly what was expected of a duchess surrounded by hundreds of watching nobles.
She had barely taken a few steps when a familiar voice drifted from behind her.
"His Grace is not attending with you?"
Bianca’s entire body stiffened. She knew that voice. She turned slowly.
Genevieve.
Her elder sister. The Pride of the Valeraine family. The woman who could smile sweetly while making Bianca feel as though she had just stepped barefoot into a nest of vipers.
Here it goes.
Genevieve approached with the effortless confidence of a woman who had never once doubted her own superiority.
"I heard he returned last night to Beryllia after his year-long monster hunt," she said, her smile widening. "Why isn’t he with you?"
Bianca’s fingers tightened around her skirt, but she kept her smile perfectly composed. Inside, however, her mind had come to a screeching halt.
He returned?
Last night?
Peregrine had returned to the capital last night?
Then why had she spent the night alone in an empty, cold bed?