Bianca stared at Peregrine, waiting for him to change his mind.
He had signed the consent form. And now he wanted the ring back. He couldn’t have made his thoughts any clearer.
She could stand there and ask him why. She could argue, demand an explanation, even tell him how much it hurt. But what good would that do when a man had no interest in her?
It would only cost her the last of her pride.
She had decided to leave. And she would do so with dignity.
Bianca slipped the ring from her finger and dropped it into his waiting palm.
Peregrine closed his fingers around it. Without another word, he turned and began climbing the stairs.
Bianca watched him go.
The sight of his back disappearing one step at a time hurt far more than she wanted to admit. She pressed her lips together and looked away.
Just a few more days...
Though, after this, she wasn’t even sure Peregrine would allow her to remain in his house until then.
She lowered her head and walked toward the carriage waiting outside. Once inside, she opened her book and forced herself to concentrate on the pages, determined not to think about what came next.
Peregrine returned to his study with the ring in his hand. He frowned.
Why hadn’t she been wearing the pearls he had left for her?
And why hadn’t she said anything about her birthday?
He couldn’t understand it.
She had looked beautiful, though. Very beautiful.
He could have spent the entire day watching her. She had looked so beautiful that he almost forgot to tell her why he asked for the ring.
An involuntary sigh escaped him.
He was exhausted. He had spent most of the night reinforcing Valois House with new wards and studying Rogues, trying to understand how such a dark presence had entered his territory. None of his familiars had been willing to tell him anything. Familiars rarely discussed creatures they considered dangerous.
Peregrine opened a drawer and pulled out a small velvet box. He opened it.
Inside lay another ring.
It was made of amber and black coral, with tiny diamonds set around the stone in the shape of delicate bumblebee wings.
His lips curved before he could stop them.
He had spent considerable time designing it. This was the ring he had always wanted to give her, but he hadn’t been able to find a smith capable of bringing his design to life, let alone crafting gems that could safely store a portion of his mana.
And now... he had found the perfect replacement for the old ring. Something that would let Bianca summon Fenrir. Fenrath was too unpredictable to leave in charge of her protection.
His smile deepened.
What will she say when she sees it?
He closed the box and left his study. But when he reached the stairs, Bianca was nowhere to be seen.
Had she gone back to her chamber? Perhaps she was pouting.
"Her Grace has left, Your Grace," the maid said with a bow.
Peregrine stopped. He looked toward the entrance. Outside, the carriage was already gone.
Why had she left so early?
The maid glanced at him.
For one strange moment, the Duke stood staring at the empty doorway like an abandoned boy clutching a present no one had wanted.
The maid immediately lowered her gaze. She must have imagined it. Surely His Grace was angry. She certainly wasn’t going to tell him that Her Grace had left without even looking at the gift he had prepared for her. She didn’t want to put the Duchess in danger.
Peregrine turned and climbed the stairs again, the velvet box still clutched in his hand.
She had left without any protection. Something was different about Bianca.
He could feel it.
But what?
In the gardens of the Glover estate, Baron Glover stood at the entrance, welcoming guests as the wedding celebrations filled the grounds with music and conversation.
Lord Richard Valeraine and Lady Magdalene Valeraine, Bianca’s parents, were surrounded by nobles eager for their attention. Though the Valeraines held only the title of Count, their influence extended far beyond it. They were the kingdom’s foremost scholars of familiars, summoning, and Anima-Glyphs, and Lord Valeraine oversaw the academy where the children of the nobility were trained.
Naturally, everyone wanted their children admitted under his tutelage.
Lord Valeraine spotted General Octavien and made his way toward him.
"I’ve been looking into the recent Rogue sightings. Your report has provided considerable insight—"
A group of nobles approached before he could finish. Valeraine sensed their arrival and fell silent.
"Mighty generous of you, Lord Valeraine," one of the lords said. "Taking the kingdom’s burdens upon your shoulders alone. Do spare us a few scraps. We would like an opportunity to serve as well."
Valeraine offered him a courteous smile. "I am always pleased to welcome those willing to be of service."
"You must have your hands full already," another lord added. "Especially with the unfortunate business concerning your Duchess daughter."
Valeraine’s fingers curled slowly at his sides.
"Family matters have a way of occupying one’s attention," he replied evenly. "But the affairs of the kingdom remain my priority."
"Of course." The lord smiled. "Though I wonder whether you’ve seen the state of the Royal Auction Hall."
A low chuckle passed through the group.
"It is still smoking."
"Quite the spectacle."
"Such a shame. One hardly expects a charity auction to end in flames."
Their words remained wrapped in courtesy, but every one carried a barb.
Then an authoritative voice cut through them.
"You speak rather freely for men permitted to do so only because you stand in my capital, under the protection of my dear nephew."
The King had heard enough.
The nobles fell silent.
His gaze moved slowly from one face to another.
"Were you in Valois, I doubt you would be so bold. You would not have such an eager audience for sneering at the Duchess. You would be fortunate if the good people of the north merely drove you from the city."
His expression hardened.
"They adore Her Grace there."
No one answered.
The King turned to Lord Valeraine.
"You needn’t trouble yourself with their tongues. Let them wag. They have little else to offer the kingdom."
With that, he walked away.
Silence lingered after him.
"Well," one lord finally murmured. "That was a warning."
"Indeed."
Another glanced toward Valeraine. "Your glyph-less daughter commands considerable loyalty in the north. Enough to make the Crown uneasy."
"Surely not," someone replied with a thin smile. "But a sovereign cannot ignore where the people’s affection lies."
His gaze flicked toward the entrance.
"Especially when that daughter has already given the capital a spectacle it won’t soon forget."
Valeraine’s jaw tightened.
Before Lord Valeraine could answer, a carriage came to a halt at the entrance.
Heads turned. Murmurs rippled through the garden as Bianca stepped down.
She was dressed in elaborate blue, adorned with the kind of lavish jewelry and unmistakable elegance that had made her the toast of the court for three consecutive seasons.
No one looking at her would have guessed how badly she was breaking apart beneath that polished exterior.
"There she is," one lady whispered as Bianca passed. "I wonder what trouble she’ll cause today."
"What a stain on the Valeraine name."
"She still doesn’t know her place."
A dangerous, low pressure rippled through the ambient mana as Lord Valeraine drew a slow breath through his nose. His knuckles cracked as his fists locked rigid at his sides.
Without sparing a glance at the whispering crowd, he strode directly toward his daughter.