Page 137 of The Girl Who Fell Through Time
With nothing else to do until Dorian wakes, Selene sits down and eats. The meal is simple but warm, and though she barely tastes it, she forces herself to eat. The bath is even better. The heat soaks into her aching muscles, loosening knots she hadn’t realised were there. She scrubs away the grime of battle, the traces of sweat, the lingering scent of smoke and steel. At some point, her hands begin to shake, but she clenches them beneath the water until it stops.
By the time she returns to bed, she is bone-weary.
Selene sinks into the pillows, exhaustion pulling at her limbs. The horror of the past days begins to ebb, leaving only the quiet relief of survival. It still doesn’t feel real. That she’s here, that Dorian is here, that they made it through. The weight of it settles over her, warm and grounding.
Rookwood arrives sometime later, knocking lightly before stepping inside. “You look better,” he says.
“I must have been in a dreadful state, then.”
“Oh, absolutely. Positively ghastly.” But there’s fondness beneath the teasing. He holds up a tray. “I brought you soup.”
It’s the most delicious soup she’s ever eaten, and she’s not sure if that’s because it’s Rookwood’s or because she’s just so hungry. She inhales the entire bowl and half a loaf of bread.
Rook disappears to get more.
Soren follows soon after, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. “Don’t get kidnapped again,” he says, as if it’s that simple.
“I’ll do my best,” Selene replies dryly. “Thanks for coming to get me.”
“I’m sorry that I missed.”
“I hope you get another chance.”
“Me too.”
He nods once, sharp and satisfied, then disappears down the hall.
Aunt Elizabeth is the last to visit, settling at Selene’s bedside with a gentle smile. “You gave us all quite the fright,” she murmurs.
“I know,” Selene whispers. “I’m sorry. Especially so soon after Dorian—”
Elizabeth shakes her head. “No apologies, my dear. Just… be well.” She squeezes Selene’s hand, and Selene’s throat feels tight. For a moment, she wishes it were her own mother here, rather than someone else’s, but the sadness passes quickly. Someone is with her. Someone cares.
A shift of weight in the next room. A stirring breath.
Dorian.
Aunt Elizabeth shakes her head. “I don’t fully understand what’s just happened here these past few days,” she says, “but then, this is an odd household. Sometimes, I think it’s best not to ask questions. You and Dorian though… I think there’s a few things you still need to talk about, isn’t there?”
Selene nods. “There is.”
Aunt Elizabeth rises. “Then you best get to it. I’ll be back tomorrow to take tea… unless, of course, you’re too busy.”
Selene’s cheeks heat with the implication, not helped in the least by Elizabeth’s knowing smile. Selene forces herself to stay seated until the door is closed, but she leaps up as soon as she’s gone, moving into the receiving room and to Dorian’s door just as it opens. He’s standing right there, barely upright, looking just as desperate for her as she is for him.
She launches at him.
He stumbles back, catching her instinctively, arms wrapping tight around her. For a long time, they just hold each other, neither speaking, neither moving. His breath is warm against her hair, his heartbeat steady under her palm.
“Are you all right?” he breathes into her hair. “He didn’t hurt you?”
Selene shakes her head. “I’m fine.” She pulls back, cradling his face in her hands. “You?”
“Feeling much better,” he tells her. “Still a little unsteady—do you mind if I sit down?”
Selene doesn’t respond. She drags him to the bed and pulls him down against the mattress, lying against his chest, an arm around his waist.
“This… this also works,” Dorian murmurs.
