Peregrine kept his gaze fixed straight ahead.
Bianca leaned closer, drawn by a desire that had been simmering inside her for far too long. His body radiated warmth, and his familiar scent surrounded her, making it difficult to think of anything else.
Her fingers tightened around his neck as she lifted herself slightly. The tip of her nose brushed his jaw, and her eyes fixed on his lips.
Just a little closer...
Her heart hammered as she slowly leaned toward him.
Her lips were almost there when Peregrine suddenly stumbled over something beneath his feet.
Bianca lurched with him, and her lips missed his by barely an inch.
She froze.
His heartbeat pounded beneath her hand, almost as hard as hers. Her breath caught as realization crashed over her.
She quickly turned her face away.
What was I about to do?
Heat crept into her cheeks. She had been soaked, her hair was a mess, and she probably smelled like pond water.
And she had almost kissed him.
Peregrine.
Her husband.
The same husband who had signed the consent form that would send her away to the monastery.
Bianca swallowed and glanced sideways at him, trying to see whether he had realized what she had been about to do.
Nothing.
He was still looking ahead, his expression as stoic as ever.
Relief loosened something inside her.
Then, almost immediately, irritation took its place.
Of course, he didn’t notice.
He had no idea what she had been going through: the sleepless nights, the yearning she could never quiet, the ache of wanting nothing more than her own husband’s warmth. She had spent three years fighting those desires alone, and he hadn’t even noticed.
Why am I the only one suffering like this?
The thought burned.
Bianca shifted restlessly in his arms, then abruptly wriggled free. Before Peregrine could react, she dropped to the ground, gathered the hem of her wet nightgown, and hurried toward the house.
She didn’t understand the strange mixture of embarrassment, anger, and lingering desire twisting inside her. She only knew she didn’t want to be anywhere near him.
Behind her, Peregrine stood still for a moment, watching her disappear into the house.
Then he followed with long strides, catching up just as she reached the entrance.
"Help Her Grace out of those wet clothes," he instructed the waiting maid before walking toward the bathing area.
The bathtubs were always kept filled with clean water. Peregrine had made sure of it because Bianca loved her baths.
He reached into the water. The glyph on his right hand glowed, and warmth slowly spread through the bath.
Just in case. If she decided to bathe, at least the water would be warm.
On his way back to his chamber, Peregrine stopped outside Bianca’s door.
His left fingers slowly traced his jaw, lingering over the spot where her lips had almost touched him. He could still feel the faint dampness there.
His heart was still racing.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
She had been so soft. The warmth of her body against his, the delicate weight of her in his arms, the tenderness of her skin beneath the thin, wet fabric of her nightgown...
His mind betrayed him again.
He remembered the curls of her damp hair, the trail of water slipping from her temple to her jaw, and the curve of her lips.
Heat pooled low in his abdomen.
Peregrine clenched his fists.
There it was again. Those thoughts.
He turned his face away from the door as though distancing himself from the temptation would somehow make it disappear.
Iggy was nowhere in sight.
Then the little flame suddenly popped into existence behind him.
"That thought didn’t even cross her mind, Iggy," Peregrine said quietly.
"Kissing me?" he continued, as though explaining the obvious. "She is far too pure for that."
Iggy remained silent.
Peregrine stood outside Bianca’s chamber for another moment.
"I have to rid myself of these..."
"I know!" Iggy cut in at last. "Heaven forbid a husband and wife in the human realm should ever entertain such thoughts."
The sarcasm was impossible to miss.
"And you lied to her about who saved her."
"You know why, Iggy."
"No. I don’t. Truly." Iggy floated steadily without flickering.
Peregrine pressed his lips together. "That isn’t important." His expression sharpened. "This is the second time she’s ended up in the water. I felt a dark presence, Iggy. Did you?"
Iggy’s flame flickered but he said nothing.
Peregrine’s gaze narrowed. "How did something get through my warding? A rogue, perhaps?"
His mind was already turning toward spells, barriers, and every possible weakness in Valois House.
"I need to study it." He turned toward the library, and Iggy hurried after him.
"I blame your father, truly," the little flame muttered.
Peregrine stopped and looked back. "What did you say?"
Iggy immediately went quiet.
Peregrine stared at him for a moment before continuing. "What was that darkness?"
The little flame merely flickered.
Peregrine frowned but did not press him. Whatever had entered his wards was more important than Iggy’s muttering.
He took several steps toward the library before stopping again.
"Fenrir."
A pale figure emerged from the shadows.
Fenrir emerged from the shadows, his white fur crackling faintly with lightning. Fenrath’s twin, he was a Sovereign-Tier familiar Peregrine had summoned the previous year.
"Guard my Duchess."
Fenrir lowered his head in acknowledgment and padded silently toward Bianca’s chamber.
Only then did Peregrine continue toward the library, with Iggy trailing behind him.
There were too many unanswered questions tonight.
And Peregrine intended to find every one of them.
Whether it was shame or anger, once Bianca changed out of her wet clothes, sleep claimed her almost immediately.
The next morning, her maid woke her.
She had a wedding to attend.
Normally, Bianca would have sent someone to ask whether Peregrine intended to accompany her, but after three years of marriage, she already knew the answer. The only wedding he had ever attended was his own. That man hated weddings. Judging by her experience, he seemed to hate marriage, too.
Bianca chose an elaborate gown she had bought for herself and took a moment to admire it. She adored lavish clothes, the more ostentatious the better, and had never been modest enough to pretend otherwise.
"Bring me the black pearls with the blue undertone."
Blue was her signature color this season. For three consecutive years, Bianca had been the toast of the season. She had the beauty, the title, and now the wealth to dress like a duchess who knew exactly what she possessed.
Perhaps that was why the other ladies hated her.
They could mock her for being glyph-less and whisper about what she lacked, but they couldn’t deny the effect she had whenever she entered a ballroom.
"Your Grace." Her maid lifted a jewelry box. "His Grace has left a—"
Bianca waved her off. She didn’t care what that man had left for her. Technically, everything she wore had been bought with his money. That only made her more determined to look spectacular.
She was angry with him. And she intended to look magnificent while doing it.
"But today is your—"
"I do enjoy making a fashionable entrance," Bianca interrupted, rising. "But even I would not presume to arrive after the King and Queen."
Her maid blinked.
Had Her Grace forgotten what day it was?
Bianca swept from her chamber, every detail of her appearance perfectly arranged.
She reached the staircase. And stopped. Peregrine was waiting at the bottom. He looked as though he hadn’t slept at all.
Bianca descended with perfect composure. At the final step, she gave him an elaborate curtsy—more out of professional pride than courtesy.
She was renowned for her elegance. If an accessory ever threatened to interfere with the perfect movement of her curtsy, she simply wouldn’t wear it.
Fortunately, everything was in place.
She straightened. Her eyes lingered on his face.
Will he say how I look?
"A wedding?" Peregrine asked.
Bianca’s lips flattened.
Of course!
He had never complimented her. Not once.
Beside him, the little flame sprite was practically bouncing, apparently trying to tell him something. Peregrine remained utterly unmoved.
Then his gaze traveled over her. Her neck. Her ears. Her hands.
Bianca blinked.
Since when did he care about my jewelry?
"That ring." Peregrine held out his hand. "Give it back."
She stared at him.
She was wearing several rings. Which one was he...
Then she followed his gaze... The amber ring... Her wedding ring, the one that allowed her to summon Fenrath.
Her fingers curled instinctively around it.
Of course.
He hadn’t asked about the spectacle she’d caused yesterday. He hadn’t confronted her. And now, on the very day Isolde would be attending the wedding, he wanted the ring back.
He didn’t want Bianca summoning Fenrath again and frightening his precious former fiancée.
Oh, how caring.
A tiny smile tugged at Bianca’s lips. There was nothing pleasant about it.
She was furious.