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“This is so fucked up,” Millicent muttered.
“Will you shut up and just do it?” Pansy snapped.
Millicent winced in sympathy as she pressed the tip of the knife into the flesh of Pansy’s forearm, which slid open like a creamy envelope. Pansy herself remained stoic.
“That’s enough; they just need a few drops. Flick a bit onto the parchment.”
Millicent did as instructed. They watched as the betrothal contract emitted a peculiar mist and then magically sealed itself.
Millicent’s fingers hovered over the wound she had inflicted. “I can’t believe you’re getting married.”
“Really? We both knew this was coming.” Pansy’s determined brusqueness evaporated when a tear fell from Millicent’s eyes and mixed with her blood. “I know. But I’m glad you’re the one who sealed it with me. We can pretend…”
“It’s not pretending. You were mine first,” Millicent said fiercely. She cupped Pansy’s face in her hands and kissed her until their lips were numb and they pulled away panting.
Millicent was the first to break the silence. For Pansy, there was nothing to say. “That should be my blood next to yours.”
Pansy nodded. She took the blade to Millicent’s arm, closed her eyes, and pretended.