The auctioneer’s smile widened.
"Lady Bennington must be referring to the Treasure of the Sea necklace set," he said brightly.
There was a knowing glint in his eyes. He understood perfectly well what was happening. A little drama never hurt an auction; if anything, it brought more attention, more bidders, and, ultimately, more money.
"Unfortunately," he continued, lowering his voice just enough to make everyone lean closer, "the Royal Family withdrew the piece at the last moment. They have sent the Glory of Heavens diamond tiara in its place."
The lady seated beside Isolde gasped.
"Don’t tell me! Did the Duke have it withdrawn because he bought it for you, Lady Isolde?"
She wasn’t whispering. Her voice carried across nearly half the hall.
The reaction was immediate. Conversations faltered, then resumed in hushed voices as heads turned toward Isolde.
Everyone knew that if anyone could influence the Royal Family, it was Duke Peregrine. His mother was the King’s sister, and his position at court gave him privileges few others possessed.
Bianca’s head was still spinning.
Yet all that escaped her was a dry, humorless laugh.
Of course.
Peregrine knew how much she loved pearls and corals. He had known since they were children that she could spend hours admiring them, that she loved the soft luster of pearls far more than diamonds.
He knew.
And in three years of marriage, he had never given her anything like this.
Yet the moment Isolde developed an interest in pearls, the Treasure of the Sea was apparently no longer available to anyone else.
Bianca’s fingers went numb.
What am I even doing here?
She pushed herself to her feet.
The movement drew a few curious glances, but she barely noticed them. She couldn’t keep pretending that the weight pressing against her chest was merely embarrassment.
She didn’t even know whether Isolde was deliberately putting on a show.
Perhaps she wasn’t.
Perhaps this was simply who Isolde was. Perhaps she genuinely had no reason to hide the Account Sigil Peregrine had given her, no reason to feel ashamed of the necklace he had apparently secured for her, and no reason to worry about the wife sitting beside her.
That possibility hurt even more.
She might not understand much about men, but there was one thing she knew.
When a man truly cared for a woman, he made her feel secure. Peregrine had just shown her who he cared for... and it wasn’t his wife.
Swallowing the bitter ache in her throat, Bianca turned toward the exit. She was done playing the tolerated outsider.
Isolde rose at once and caught Bianca by the arm.
"Bianca, you’re leaving?" Her voice trembled with apparent concern. "It isn’t something I’ve done, is it?"
Her fingers tightened around the obsidian Account Sigil.
"If it’s because I’ve been using Perry’s Account Sigil..." She pressed it into Bianca’s hand, lowering her eyes as though ashamed. "Here. Take it."
"Please don’t leave because of me."
Bianca stared at her in disbelief.
Only a few rows had seen the Account Sigil when Isolde first used it. Now, thanks to Isolde’s perfectly timed declaration, nearly the entire hall knew that she had been carrying Peregrine’s personal Account Sigil.
And Perry?
Bianca’s gaze dropped to the obsidian plate in her hand.
Perry.
The endearing little name rolled through her mind like a foreign word.
She had known Peregrine for almost all her life, and never once had she called him that, not even in the privacy of their chambers. Yet, apparently Isolde was close enough to him to call him by a name Bianca had never even heard.
How close were they?
The jealousy came before Bianca could stop it, raw and ugly and completely unlike the composed duchess she had spent years training herself to be. It burned through the hurt, feeding the rage already simmering beneath it.
With a sharp yank, she freed her arm.
Isolde stumbled backward and fell to the floor.
Bianca froze. She didn’t even push her that hard. Yet Isolde remained where she had fallen, looking up at Bianca with wide, wounded eyes.
"I didn’t mean to, Bianca." Her voice trembled. "I apologize for whatever I did."
The hall erupted.
Murmurs spread through the crowd, followed by sharper voices and even a few indignant curses directed at Bianca.
"You’re going overboard, sister," Genevieve joined, stepping forward with an expression of disapproval. "She did nothing wrong. You didn’t have to hit her."
I hit her?
Bianca almost laughed.
Every eye in the hall was on her now, and not one of them held sympathy.
She looked at Isolde.
The woman was still on the floor, delicate and pitiful, like a crushed flower that somehow managed to retain its fragrance even after being trampled.
Bianca had wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. She had wondered whether Isolde was simply unaware of how her actions looked.
But now... Bianca could see clearly.
No. She’s being deliberate.
"Oh, I never tire of these performances during court season."
The unfamiliar voice cut through the uproar.
A woman in a pale-blue gown rose from her seat, silver jewelry glinting at her throat and wrists. Her blonde hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, and her icy-blue eyes held a mocking amusement that made it clear she had no intention of joining the crowd in condemning Bianca.
"Won’t someone help the damsel in distress?" she asked, giving a soft, humorless laugh. "Perhaps a horde of white knights?"
Her gaze swept lazily over the room.
"Do hurry. The poor would-be duchess has begun to look positively tragic."
Bianca stared at her.
Marchioness Seraphina Hamilton.
She had heard of her, of course.
Seraphina was the woman Peregrine’s mother had once considered the ideal match for her son. Instead, she had married Marquis Theodore de Villiers of the Southern Borderlands—Peregrine’s closest friend.
Seraphina had married only a month before Bianca and had spent most of the past three court seasons at her southern estate. In three years, she had given birth to two sons.
But Bianca’s eyes were drawn to the creature perched calmly on Seraphina’s shoulder.
A small bird, no larger than her hand, its feathers shimmering faintly with traces of silver-blue lightning. But its true form...
A Sovereign Storm Roc. A Sovereign-Tier familiar.
The Marquis had apparently allowed Seraphina to retain it, despite the common practice among noble families of husbands claiming their wives’ strongest familiars and leaving them only weaker Sprite-class companions.
Bianca had never spoken to Seraphina before.
She barely had time to wonder why the woman had chosen to defend her before Genevieve hurried toward her.
"Sit down, Bianca!" Genevieve hissed. "Don’t make a spectacle of yourself just because your husband left his Account Sigil with Isolde!"
A dry scoff escaped Bianca.
"Why would I be bothered by his Account Sigil being in her hands?"
She turned toward the auctioneer, whose expression had become increasingly uncomfortable beneath the attention of the entire hall.
"Do I, as the Duchess of Valois, even need an Account Sigil to make a purchase?"
The auctioneer immediately bowed his head.
"No, Your Grace. Your name is sufficient."
Bianca smiled.
It was a small smile, but there was nothing pleasant about it.
Genevieve caught her arm and tried to pull her back toward her seat. "Stop making a spectacle. Just sit down."
Before Bianca could answer, Isolde had already risen. She dusted off her gown and reached for Bianca’s hand again.
"Please, stay."
Something inside Bianca finally snapped.
She pulled her hand free. This time, she didn’t bother looking at anyone’s expression.
Her fingers closed around the ring Peregrine had given her, and her thumb pressed against the amber jewel set into it.
The jewel pulsed once beneath her touch.
Then again.
The air inside the auction hall suddenly changed.
A strange charge prickled across Bianca’s skin, raising the fine hairs along her arms. Conversations died one by one as a faint hissing sound filled the chamber, growing louder until even the nobles in the furthest rows fell silent.
Bianca lifted her chin.
For years, she had learned to endure their whispers.
Perhaps it was time they remembered that she was still the Duchess of Valois.
"Come hither, Fenrath," she commanded, her voice carrying clearly through the silent hall. "I summon thee on behalf of Peregrine Alistair de Valois."