Page 105 of The Girl Who Fell Through Time
“I could.” She raises an eyebrow. “Or you can lie here and suffer in silence.”
His lips quirk, just barely. “Third one from the top.”
She plucks the book from the pile. The cover is old, the title nearly worn away, but she can just make outThe Shadow Captainin faded gold lettering. Flipping it open, she settles into the chair beside the bed.
Soren doesn’t protest. He just shifts slightly, making himself comfortable, and lets his eyes drift shut as she begins to read.
Her voice fills the quiet room, steady and even. At first, Soren remains tense, as if expecting to be dragged back to wakefulness by pain or fever. But as the story unfolds—of storms and shipwrecks, of daring escapes and lost treasures—he relaxes, his breaths growing slower, deeper.
She turns a page and glances up. He’s asleep.
Selene lowers the book onto her lap, watching him for a moment. In sleep, he looks younger, the hard edges of his usual expression softened. It reminds her, again, of just how little time he’s had to be anything other than a soldier, a weapon.
A quiet creak at the door draws her attention. Dorian stands there, leaning against the frame. His gaze flicks from her to Soren, then to the book in her lap.
“How is he doing?” he asks her.
“He’ll be fine.”
Dorian exhales, stepping closer. His gaze lingers on Soren for a moment before shifting back to her. “Thank you.”
Selene shrugs. “It’s nothing.”
He gives her a small, unreadable smile before shifting his focus back to Soren. Selene watches him, the way his expression softens just slightly, the way his fingers twitch like he wants to reach out but doesn’t.
She closes the book. “I’ll leave you with him.”
As she rises, Dorian catches her wrist, just briefly, his touch warm against her skin. “Stay?”
Selene hesitates, then nods. They sit together and watch him sleep. Dorian watches him less like a concerned brother, and more like a father. It makes her chest ache.
He would have made an excellent father. He still might, if he ever grew less afraid, or learned to carry his fears more easily.
“Dorian?” she says.
“Yes?”
“I don’t regret last night.”
Dorian sighs. “I don’t, either.”
It’s all she can bring herself to say.
By the time Soren is back on his feet, grumbling about the fuss everyone made over him, Ebonrose Hall has settled into something resembling normalcy. Or at least, as normal as things can be when there are still too many unanswered questions hanging over and between them.
Selene watches Dorian across the breakfast table, noting the faint lines of exhaustion still lingering at the edges of his expression. He hasn’t spoken of Luna again. She hasn’t asked. But it weighs on them both, an unspoken thing, shadowing their every interaction.
She sets her cup down with a decisive click. “We should host a ball.”
Dorianblinks at her. “A ball.”
“Yes.” She straightens, folding her hands in her lap. “We’re no closer to finding out who else might be allying with the Duke. If we can’t uncover the truth through subtlety, then we should gather everyone together and watch them more closely.”
Soren, who had been slathering far too much jam on a slice of bread, looks up with a smirk. “You just want an excuse to dance.”
Selene ignores him. “It’s practical. The season is almost over, but plenty of nobility are still lingering in the countryside. A gathering at Ebonrose would be unexpected. People will come purely to see why we’re hosting one.”
Dorian exhales, drumming his fingers against the table. He doesn’t dismiss the idea outright. That, at least, is promising. “You think we’ll be able to rule anyone out just by watching them?”
