Page 94 of The Girl Who Fell Through Time
Selene stares at her mother in disbelief. “A mistake?” she echoes. “Is that all I am to you? A problem to be fixed?”
“Do not be dramatic.”
“Forgive me if I find it difficult to remain composed when you’re asking me to lie—to ruin Dorian—to go crawling back to you, and, presumably, the Duke.”
“It would not be a lie,” Lady Duskbriar insists. “You eloped, Selene. You are not the sort of girl to do that sort of thing, and no one can work out why. Hemusthave forced you, manipulated you in some way…”
Nothing that Dorian has ever done to her or could ever do to her would come anywhere close to what the Duke has done, what herparentshave done, and Selene knows it now better than ever before.
How could she possibly have said that he was like the Duke?
She had fled with Dorian out of desperation, out of necessity. But if given the choice again… she would make the same one. No matter how many loops, how many lives.
She meets her mother’s gaze. “Mother, I love my husband.”
Lady Duskbriar could not have looked more shocked if her daughter had slapped her.
Selene is just as shocked. She’s surprised at how easily the lie came.
Except… is it really a lie?
It has to be a lie,she tells herself.It has to.
“You can’t love him,” her mother says after a drawn out pause. “You never even spoke about him before the day you were supposed to get engaged to the Duke. You lovedDrakefell. I made sure—I was sure of it—”
“Well, you were wrong,” Selene says simply. “Likely not for the first time, or the last. Have a good evening, Mother.”
Selene waits until her mother backs down, refusing to move, barely even blinking.
It takes what feels like a full minute until Lady Duskbriar turns, shocked, and moves back into the throng of dancers.
Selene takes a moment to steady her breathing.
“I’ve found it,” says a voice behind her.
Selene jumps. Dorian appears at her elbow. “By the Divine Four, you can move as quietly as Soren!”
Dorian smiles weakly. “Come on.”
They slip out of the ballroom together, Dorian leading the way through a dimly lit corridor. The music and laughter from the party fade with each step, replaced by the quiet hush of polished floors and flickering lamplight.
Selene’s pulse is still unsteady, but not from the usual thrill of sneaking about. Her mother’s words linger, digging beneath her skin like splinters.
Dorian keeps his gaze ahead, his posture unbothered, but she knows him well enough now to recognise the tension in his shoulders.
“Did you… did you hear my conversation with my mother?” she asks quietly.
Dorian glances at her. “Hear what?” His voice is far too breezy.
It’s a careful answer, one that leaves her uncertain. If hehadoverheard, would he admit it? Or is he sparing her the embarrassment?
They stop before a heavy oak door.
“This is it,” he murmurs, kneeling before the lock.
Selene shifts her focus, casting a wary glance down the corridor. Dorian pulls out two tiny pieces of metal and clicks them into the lock.
“You can pick locks?”
