Bianca watched as Peregrine signed the papers one after another, her heart still racing. For a fleeting moment, she wondered whether she was making a mistake.
She refused to dwell on it.
Instead, she focused on his hands. He was signing with his left hand.
Bianca blinked.
Peregrine was ambidextrous, but he had always favored his right hand when writing. He had only used his left hand for swordsmanship in the past. She couldn’t remember when that had changed.
Her gaze drifted slowly upward.
His shoulders had grown broader with age. He would be twenty-nine soon, and somehow the years had only made him more imposing.
Bianca sighed inwardly. Too bad she would never have the chance to touch them.
Her eyes moved to his face.
His lips were pressed into a thin line, as though if he opened his mouth, something precious might spill out and bankrupt the entire kingdom.
But he hadn’t always been like this.
And then her gaze caught on the scar. It covered almost the entirety of the right side of his face.
Her stomach knotted. She quickly looked away.
Bianca returned her attention to the documents and realized Peregrine was already on the page immediately before the consent form.
She waited.
He didn’t sign the page. Instead, he asked casually, "How was the auction? Did anything catch your eye?"
Bianca’s heart skipped. He must have heard what happened. He knew she had summoned Fenrath. There was no way he could have missed that.
Is this a trick question?
"Nothing worth mentioning," she replied. "It was dreadfully dull."
If he wanted to be vague, she could be vague too.
Peregrine finally lifted his eyes to her. "Dull?"
Bianca blinked. If he wanted to ask about something, why couldn’t he simply be frank?
"Your fiancée is back," she said. "That poor woman rather forced herself into a conversation with me."
She watched him carefully, searching his face for any reaction.
He looked startled. That much she could see. Perhaps he hadn’t expected her to be quite so blunt.
His Sprite familiar was suddenly bouncing all over his shoulders, apparently saying something with great enthusiasm, but Bianca couldn’t hear a word.
Her attention lingered on the little creature.
It was strange.
She could see all the familiars around her, even though she had never been able to summon one herself. She had been told that familiars could normally only be seen by their summoners when they were in their dormant forms.
She had seen all of them, except Peregrine’s dragon. She had never seen it. Maybe no one had. Yet everyone had felt its presence.
Sometimes Bianca had the ridiculous thought that perhaps all the familiars belonged to her, and that was why she could see them in their dormant state.
It was a rather delusional thought. She dismissed it immediately.
"Married men don’t have fiancées, My Duchess," Peregrine said. "Married women don’t have fiancés either."
Bianca stiffened.
Is he angry?
And what is with My Duchess? He has never called me that before. It sounds... ominous.
"You know perfectly well what I mean, Your Grace." Bianca forced a small smile. "Lady Bennington was your betrothed before you had to marry me."
"Had to..."
The words slipped from Peregrine beneath his breath. He looked like a kicked puppy for some reason. The expression didn’t linger long on his face.
Then his pen moved. He signed the page. Bianca’s gaze dropped to the parchment. Peregrine placed the signed document aside.
And directly in front of him now lay the consent form.
Bianca gulped.
For some reason, Peregrine looked disturbed, and she knew he wouldn’t sign the consent form while he was in that state. And deep down, neither did she want him to.
She wanted him to fight for her. For their marriage.
She wanted him to look at her and say that he had accepted her as his wife. That he had chosen her.
That he loved her.
"Why did you marry me, Peregrine?" she asked.
The change in him was immediate. His entire body stiffened.
His familiar began making frantic movements around him, darting from one shoulder to the other, but Bianca barely noticed.
She wasn’t looking at the familiar. She was looking at him.
Peregrine looked tense. Angry, perhaps. Or helpless. She couldn’t tell. And somehow, that hurt even more.
They had once been close. Very close.
There had been a time when he told her everything that crossed his mind, when neither of them had needed to measure every word or action around the other.
Now there was an enormous chasm between them, and Bianca didn’t even know when it had appeared.
Maybe it was her fault. Maybe it was his.
No, it definitely was hers. She knew it. She’d never blame him.
Still, some small part of her hoped.
Perhaps, by some miracle, he would tell her that he had wanted to marry her, that he had chosen her...because she was Bianca... because of their old friendship...
Because he wanted her.
Peregrine lowered his head. His fingers tightened around the quill until his knuckles whitened against the parchment.
Then his amber eyes finally found hers. "I just couldn’t leave you... there..."
The words struck her like a blade.
Bianca’s heart sank.
There it was... Pity.
She had been so certain he’d married her out of loyalty to her father, out of responsibility, perhaps even friendship.
But apparently she’d been wrong.
He had married her because he couldn’t bear to leave her alone, because he pitied her.
Did I look that pitiful at the altar after being abandoned?
Humiliation was far too simple a word for what she felt. She wanted to shout, to scream... to slap him.
She hadn’t asked for his pity. She didn’t need it. Of all those people... he too had pitied her.
Peregrine lowered his gaze again and pressed the tip of the quill against the parchment.
He was about to read the document. His familiar was still flying frantically around him, and Bianca suddenly noticed it drifting dangerously close to the papers.
She couldn’t let it burn the consent form. She couldn’t let anything go wrong now.
Before Peregrine could look down, Bianca grabbed a crab-apple lantern from the tray and shoved it directly into his mouth.
"Eat!"
Peregrine froze. His entire mouth was stuffed.
Bianca leaned closer, her cheeks burning with embarrassment, and pointed firmly at the dotted line.
"I cooked this for you."
Peregrine stared at her. She stared back. For a moment, time and space melted around them. His eyes lowered, but then, he immediately looked away.
Then, with his mouth still full of crabapple, he signed.
The moment the quill left the parchment, Bianca snatched the consent form from the desk. She turned and stormed out of the study before he could say another word.
This is better, right?
Her steps faltered.
This is better.
Tears streamed down her face as she clutched the parchment against her chest.
She had done it. She had finally gotten what she wanted. The Temple would accept her renunciation.
I could be free... I am free!
And then, as though the parchment itself had been waiting for his signature, the enchantment activated.
The consent form dissolved in Bianca’s hands, disintegrating into fine silver dust before vanishing into the air.
Bianca stopped walking. Her fingers slowly closed around nothing.
She was free.
She had gotten exactly what she wanted.
So why did it feel as though something inside her had just been torn away?