Page 14 of The Girl Who Fell Through Time
“Yes. No more than that.”
Selene retrieves the remains of her jewellery box and presses it into Cassie’s hands. Cassie looks at her oddly, waiting for an explanation.
“You should take these,” Selene tells her.
Cassie’s eyes widen to the size of saucers. “I… I can’t possibly—”
“Cassie, my parents may well try to dismiss you once they realise you’ve helped me escape. This is the least I can do. Hide it away somewhere until all of this has blown over, then pawn it off, a little at a time—”
“I’m sure I’m much more familiar with pawning things off than you are,” Cassie says, holding a ring up to the light.
“Right. Yes.”
Cassie studies Selene for a long moment. It’s clear she’s wondering if Selene will manage this transition alone. Selene isn’t entirely sure she will. But anything is better than the Duke. Anything is better than what he has planned.
“Thank you, Cassie. For everything,” Selene says softly.
Cassie only nods, but Selene catches the glint of tears in her eyes. They both understand the depth of that gratitude. As Cassie picks up the cat with gentle hands, Selene takes a final look around the room she will never see again, steeling herself for whatever comes next.
Cassie takes away the trunks and leaves Selene alone with Mistress Stripe, the cat’s box, and a suffocating weight of uncertainty. She doesn’t bother attending her parents’ soirée, nor is she summoned. It is unthinkably rude not to meet their guests, but she can’t bring herself to face the Duke, her parents, or the inevitable gossip.
So much for the revenge she once dreamed of in moments of desperation. She can’t even be in the same room as the Duke, let alone confront him.
Revenge isn’t necessary,she tells herself. All that matters is staying out of his reach. If he can’t control her or gain access to Nocturne, then nothing else matters.
Still, she hopes he’s miserable. Misery, after all, is safer than anger.
Cassie brings up food for her, but Selene barely touches it. Her stomach churns with dread, waiting for everything to fall apart. Dorian’s bold lie about their marriage can’t possibly hold. Surely, he will come to his senses and realise she isn’t worth the trouble.
If he abandons her, she won’t blame him. But she doesn’t know what she will do.
There’s always Montelune,a small voice whispers, but it offers no solutions. That voice doesn’t know the way to the nearest port, how much coin is needed to secure passage, or how to navigate the dangers of the road. The louder, more practical voice in her mind shudders at the thought of sleeping in a ditch.
Mistress Stripe curls in her lap. Selene focuses on the cat’s warmth, trying to anchor herself as night falls. Footsteps in the corridor send her nerves sparking with every sound.
The hours drag. Her dread deepens. She imagines Dorian reconsidering his impulsive decision, overwhelmed by the complications of his lie. In her mind’s eye, he turns away, leaving her to face the Duke and her parents alone.
Mistress Stripe grumbles as Selene hugs her too tightly, wriggling free to curl up at a distance and eye her reproachfully.
“Sorry, darling,” Selene murmurs, scratching behind the cat’s ear in apology. Mistress Stripe’s tail flicks in mild annoyance before she settles.
The night presses against the windows.He’s not coming,she thinks, hugging herself.You’re on your own.
What’s she going to do?
A faint tap against the glass breaks the silence. Selene freezes, straining to hear. Another tap.
A pebble.
Her heart leaps as she rushes to the window, peering into the shadowed garden below.
Dorian stands beneath her window, his head tilted up as he prepares to throw another small stone.
She fumbles with the latch, her hands trembling, and pushes the window open.
“Lord Nightbloom!” she calls softly.
He looks up, his face shadowed. “Are you ready?”
