Page 118 of The Girl Who Fell Through Time
“Please,” Selene whispers, bowing her head so deeply it aches. “Please, you didn’t send me back just to watch this happen.”
But what if thatwasthe reason? What if she was sent back for a purpose, and she’s already failed? Just as she has failed at everything else?
Her hands clench into fists, nails biting into her palms. “Let him live,” she prays. “Let him live, and I will do whatever it is you ask of me. I will be better. I will help as many people as I can.”
A darker thought slithers in, unbidden. It’s one thing to promise goodness. But she knows, in the depths of her soul, that she would commitevilfor him, too. Even if he hated her for it. Even if helefther for it. Anything to keep him in this world.
And if he dies…
If he dies, she will go back to the temple andbegto begin again. Even if it means erasing herself. Even if it means he forgets her, if everyone forgets her.
The world needs more people like Dorian.
It does not need more people like her.
Ariella and Rookwood take turns watching over Dorian, forcing each other to rest when exhaustion looms too heavy. But Selene does not move. She cannot.
She sits at his bedside, her hands curled in the sheets, her heart pounding with every slow, shallow breath he takes. He burns beneath the covers, his skin damp with sweat, his face paler than she has ever seen it underneath the burning redness in his cheeks.
She wipes his brow with a cool cloth. Adjusts his pillow. Brushes the hair from his face.
“I like your hair down,” she whispers to him, curling a strand behind his ear. “You should wear it this way more often. If you want to, of course, only if you want to…”
He doesn’t wake. The poison has settled deep, and Selene cannot tell if he dreams or if he is simply drifting.
His words from long ago come back to her.I make myself invisible so that no one tries to make me disappear.
But he couldn’t stay invisible while he was married to her. He’d put himself at risk forher.This may be the Duke’s fault, but if Dorian dies… that will be because of her.
“You are not allowed to disappear,” she whispers, though she knows he cannot hear her. “Do you hear? You are forbidden.”
Rookwood enters, rubbing sleep from his eyes. His face is lined with shadows. “Go rest, Selene,” he murmurs, as if she is fragile enough to be soothed by kindness.
“I can’t.”
“You need to—”
“Ican’t.” Her voice cracks. “You wouldn’t go if it was Ariella, would you?”
Rookwood watches her for a long moment, then sighs. He doesn’t argue. Instead, he settles into the chair opposite her, watching over Dorian with the same silent concern.
The hours crawl by.
The night deepens.
And still, Selene does not move.
Somehow, Selene falls asleep. She has some dim memory of Ariella coming in to relieve Rookwood and trying fruitlessly to get Dorian to drink, but nothing else.
She doesn’t remember closing her eyes, but exhaustion must have stolen her away. When she wakes, dawn is creepingthrough the curtains, pale and thin. Dorian still lies unmoving beside her, still breathing, still burning.
Ariella sits on the other side of the bed, glancing at Dorian in the way a mother might look over a feverish child. Her face is pinched with concern.
Selene stays still, listening as the door opens.
Rookwood enters quietly, his boots soft against the rug. “Go get some rest,” he murmurs to Ariella. “I’ll stay with him a little while.”
Ariella exhales, long and slow. “I’m fine.”
