Bianca composed herself before stepping out of the carriage. Judging by the crowd gathered at the entrance, she was very late, even later than the royals.
It didn’t bother her. She lifted her chin and walked into the garden with the practiced elegance expected of a duchess.
Then she saw someone coming straight toward her. She didn’t need to look directly at him to know who it was.
Her father.
She should have been happy to see him. She had grown up on the outskirts of the capital and, after marrying at twenty, had moved to the northern territory of Valois. She returned to the capital only once a year for court season.
But instead of warmth, her heart began to pound. Her palms turned cold.
She knew that look.
Lord Richard Valeraine was the calm, patient teacher everyone admired. His students adored him. Nobles respected his wisdom.
But to Bianca, he had always been the man who made her feel like a mistake that should never have existed.
Genevieve must have complained about her again. Whatever had happened at the auction had certainly reached him.
He was coming to put his wayward daughter back in her place.
Not today.
Bianca slipped behind a cluster of guests and disappeared toward the opposite side of the garden before her father could reach her.
Lord Richard Valeraine stopped. His jaw tightened. She was running from him again. After all these years, she still behaved like a child avoiding discipline.
Today, he would make sure she did.
He took a step after her. A trembling hand caught his. Richard turned. Magdalene was looking at him with pleading eyes.
"Please, Richard." Her voice softened as she glanced toward the crowd. "It’s her birthday."
His stiff shoulders eased, but only slightly. "Cursed be this day," he muttered.
He tried to pull away, but the wedding ceremony began. Magdalene released a quiet breath of relief.
"Tell her to visit us tomorrow," Richard grumbled before taking his seat.
Magdalene nodded and turned back toward the guests.
She searched the crowd for Bianca, but the procession was already moving toward the front. She followed while glancing over her shoulder, still trying to find her daughter.
"Careful..." she murmured, but it was too late.
With one last glance toward Bianca, Magdalene hurried after her husband.
Just when Bianca thought she had escaped her father, she slammed into someone. She stumbled back and looked up.
The Queen.
Bianca’s heart skipped.
The Queen was in her early thirties, but she looked younger and radiant as ever. She had never spoken privately to Her Majesty before, and for some reason, she had always had the feeling the Queen disliked her.
"Your Majesty." Bianca immediately lowered herself into a deep curtsy. "Forgive my clumsiness."
She lifted her eyes with an apologetic smile, letting innocence soften her embarrassment.
"Your radiance rather blinded me."
"What a sweet tongue." The King’s amused voice came from beside the Queen.
Bianca straightened and gave him another flawless curtsy. "I am known for my honesty, Your Majesty."
The King let out a hearty laugh. The Queen merely gave Bianca a measured nod before turning toward her seat.
Bianca released the breath she’d been holding.
"Bee!"
She turned at the familiar voice and spotted Fiona sitting beside her husband. Bianca quickly joined them.
The wedding began soon after. She watched the groom look at his bride. There was such tenderness in his eyes. And the bride’s smile...
Bianca looked away.
She didn’t have that.
All she remembered from her own wedding was how abandoned she had felt. For a moment, she almost believed her father’s words again.
Perhaps she really was worthless. Perhaps someone like her, born without a glyph, simply wasn’t meant to have happiness.
Then her fingers twitched.
Warmth.
She remembered the warmth surrounding her hand as she stood beside Peregrine at the altar, head bowed as she fought back tears.
Peregrine. His hand had been so warm.
There had barely been a word exchanged between them. She remembered the whispers behind her, the curious gazes, the pity.
But she had looked only at him.
At the left side of his face.
He had stood perfectly straight, his gaze fixed ahead, his expression so serious that her tears had eventually stopped.
She remembered the warmth of his hand around hers more clearly than anything else from that day.
Bianca blinked, pulled back into the present as the people around her began to rise.
Right. The Resonance Weaving Ceremony.
She watched as the priest tied the bride’s and groom’s hands together with a red thread before they stepped into a glowing magic circle.
White light enveloped them.
The ancient rite bound their familiars together. From that moment on, the husband’s authority extended to the wife’s familiar, including which familiar she would be permitted to keep during the marriage.
The kingdom taught Resonance Weaving as something sacred and romantic, a spiritual union between husband and wife.
To Bianca, it had never felt romantic. It felt like another thing women surrendered upon marriage.
Of course, she could never perform the ceremony with Peregrine anyway. She had no familiar to surrender.
Resonance Weaving and consummation were the two sacraments of marriage.
She had experienced neither.
Peregrine had simply taken her hand in front of everyone.
That had been it.
And now...
"There you are!"
Genevieve’s grating voice snapped Bianca out of her thoughts.
"I thought you’d be keeping a low profile after yesterday’s spectacle. But, of course, you’re shameless. You really cannot help yourself, can you?"
Bianca rolled her eyes.
"Even a maggot-faced hag like you has the audacity to parade herself before the entire court. Why should I hide?"
Fiona giggled behind her hand.
Genevieve’s face flushed red, but she quickly cleared her throat. "I’m beautiful enough for my husband to give me three children. What worth is your beauty?"
The words slipped beneath Bianca’s defenses.
Her fingers tightened around her fan.
Of all the things Genevieve could have said, she had found the one place where the blade could still reach her.
Bianca let a smirk curl across her lips.
"You’re getting clever, Genevieve." Her tone was almost indulgent. "You finally managed to find a retort to yesterday’s jab."
"Oh, that was rather unkind," Isolde murmured as she joined them.
Bianca glanced at her.
Isolde was dressed in bright red, looking nothing like the grieving widow she had presented herself as yesterday.
Bianca tilted her head, then deliberately turned her attention back to Genevieve. "Not bad, Dear Sister. Try harder next time."
Genevieve was once again left speechless. Isolde’s smile tightened. Being ignored clearly displeased her. Then her gaze dropped to Bianca’s hand.
Her lips curved.
"Did Perry take away your ring?" Isolde asked softly. "Oh, my."
She lifted a finger to her lips, widening her eyes in feigned dismay.
Genevieve followed her gaze. Her eyes landed on Bianca’s bare ring finger. "Did His Grace punish you for daring to hurt Isolde?"
The words twisted the knife already buried in Bianca’s heart.
For one terrible moment, she could feel the empty space around her finger more sharply than the ring itself had ever weighed.
She opened her mouth. But before she could answer, something changed.
Bianca felt it first.
A strange vibration ran through the ground beneath her feet.
She froze.
Around the garden, dormant familiars stirred almost simultaneously. Birds lifted their heads. Wolves bared their teeth. Serpents coiled. Even familiars resting peacefully against their masters suddenly became alert.
Fiona’s smile vanished. "Bee...?"
A low rumble rolled beneath them. Then the ground shook...Hard. The elegant garden erupted into chaos.
Women cried out as men instinctively reached for their wives. Chairs scraped across the ground. Glasses toppled from tables, shattering against the stone.
Bianca grabbed Fiona’s arm, but the earth lurched again.
Her heel slipped.
She struggled to keep her balance as the ground bucked beneath her. "What is happening?"
Another violent tremor struck.
This time, Bianca couldn’t stay upright.
And then, directly in front of her...
The earth split open.