15. A Visit and a Journey #2
“You like her, and you know it,” Selene said, taking a seat nearby.
“You can like someone and still be infinitely aware of how much of a menace they are,” Dorian replied, still unmoving. He cracked one eye open. “How did you find her?”
“I rather enjoyed her company, I must admit.”
Dorian groaned. He wasn’t sure he wanted Selene to make an alliance with Elizabeth. She knew far too many embarrassing stories about him and was not afraid to share them.
Selene smirked. “Who was it that you had a crush on in school?”
Like that one, for example.
“Was it Esther? I bet it was Esther—”
He removed his hands from his face and stared at her. “You… don’t know?”
“Should I?”
Dorian sat up abruptly, marching toward the door without so much as a glance in her direction.
He did not want to admit that Selene was the object of his admiration all those years ago, especially as it brought him dangerously close to the truth that she still was, in an awful, uncomfortable, inexplicable way.
She doesn’t know you, he reminded himself. And you barely know this version of her.
“Wait—Dorian!” Selene called after him. “Was it me ?”
He hesitated just for a moment before answering, “It was a long time ago, Selene.”
“And your taste has much improved since then?” she teased.
Dorian stopped. My taste has improved since then, was the honest answer. And it’s still you, Selene. It’s only ever been you. It can never be anyone else.
None of which would make any sense to her, would confuse her, might even terrify her.
It would terrify him, too. It would hurt him .
“It was a schoolboy crush,” he said at last. “And you were very beautiful. Most of the boys had crushes on you at some point. Let it go. I do not wish to be teased.”
And with that, he disappeared without another word.
Dorian went back to his study and sighed.
He’d expected things to be slightly uncomfortable between them when he entered into the arrangement, but he had not expected it to be like this.
Gods, it was awful being beside her so frequently, his mind still waiting for some kind of recollection that would never come.
His Selene knew that he liked her, too. He would never forget the first time their lips met, how sadly she remarked that she just wanted to kiss someone who liked her, how much his heart broke for the two of them—her, trapped in a loveless marriage, and him, who had just kissed the girl of his dreams knowing she didn’t feel the same.
But you did, Luna, didn’t you? In the end, you did.
But this Selene wasn’t his Selene, his Luna. She was a different collection of memories and experiences. Her and not her, all at the same time.
He needed to get away, just for a few days.
It was a solid idea anyway. He needed to get back to town and discover how much had changed in this timeline, now that Selene wasn’t marrying the Duke.
He needed to sneak back into Drakefell’s house and rifle through his correspondence.
Checking in with the Fairmonts wouldn’t be a bad idea, either.
They were in the Duke’s inner circle. One of the older boys had ended up marrying Selene in a past timeline when the Duke had died. What would their plans be now?
He wouldn’t know until he checked.
He made his plans to leave early the next day, mentioning it to Selene casually over breakfast. She didn’t seem too put out that he was abandoning her, although Soren was incensed to hear that he was being left behind.
“Are you out of your mind?” he hissed in Dorian’s study, as he packed the last of his provisions.
“ You go off on your own all the time!”
“I’m an assassin.”
“ Former assassin,” Dorian corrected him. “And I have picked up a few things from you over the years, you know.”
“This is dangerous.”
“I don’t want Selene left unguarded,” Dorian explained. “Lest the Duke try something.”
“He might do, if you die, ” Soren snapped. “Which is what will happen if you go alone.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“This girl is going to get you killed. For real, this time.”
Dorian wondered, not for the first time, if that might not be worth it to keep her safe.
Dorian headed off to the capital. He took a brief reprieve at his own house there, stabled his horse, and made his way to the Drakefell residence on foot.
He’d become extremely adept at sneaking in over the years, first stealing a servant’s livery, and then taking a moment to assess the situation.
He knew the Duke’s routine and the routine of the house perfectly.
At this time of day, the Duke was almost certain to be in his smoking room with his friends, and far away from the study.
Dorian reached the stairs leading up to the servants’ entrance and paused.
The sound of raucous laughter drifted through the hallway, muffled by the thick walls.
His lip curled in disgust. The Duke’s friends—mostly foppish fools and half-wits—had long been a source of amusement for Dorian, but today they were just a distraction.
He adjusted the cap hiding his hair and moved swiftly towards the study. It wasn’t difficult to navigate the winding halls. The servants’ livery allowed him to blend in with the occasional scurrying housekeeper or maid.
He reached the Duke’s study without incident. The heavy oak door loomed in front of him, dark and imposing. He could hear no sounds from within—no scribbling, no talking. Nothing.
Dorian didn’t hesitate. He took a breath, then turned the handle, his fingers brushing the cold brass. The door creaked slightly as it swung open, but he’d expected that. He entered quietly, closing it behind him with a soft click.
The study was just as he remembered—stiff, formal. Leather-bound books filled every available space on the shelves, and the massive oak desk sat beneath the tall windows. There was no fire in the hearth today, and the air felt colder than it should have for this time of year.
Dorian didn’t waste time admiring the space. He knew exactly what he needed. His eyes scanned the desk, the drawers, and the papers neatly stacked on top. He’d been in this room countless times before, always looking for something, but today it was different. Today, there was more urgency.
His fingers brushed over the edge of the desk as he moved to the right side, where the Duke often kept his most sensitive documents.
He slid open the drawer. Inside were ledgers, correspondence—nothing of interest. That hardly surprised him.
The Duke was highly skilled at covering his tracks.
It was only by luck he’d ever found anything before.
Dorian’s eyes narrowed as he searched through the drawer, sifting through the neatly arranged papers.
Nothing unusual, just the usual political scheming, contracts with merchants, tax reports.
His hand lingered over a few documents, considering them, but they all proved irrelevant.
He pushed them aside with a slight sigh, preparing himself to move on.
His gaze fell to the grate. The faint, acrid scent of burnt paper drifted up from the cold metal slats.
He crouched down, frowning. There was something there—something that had been thrown away in a hurry.
With quick fingers, he pried open the grate, ignoring the sharp scrape of metal, and pulled out a charred piece of paper.
It was badly burnt, the edges curling away into black ash, but a few bits of lettering were still legible. He held it up to the dim light, reading the remnants of the words. It was addressed to Roselune Abbey, but for whatever reason, the Duke had decided against sending it.
It seemed the Duke had not taken Selene’s elopement well. Dorian couldn’t suppress a smug grin at the thought. She’s safe from you. You don’t get to touch her again.
All he could make out were the words “ I thought we had an understanding? ” Nothing else.
But there was no time to linger on that. Dorian discarded the letter. There was nothing proving a direct connection to Ashvold, nor suggesting what the Duke’s next plan might be.
With the search complete, Dorian didn’t waste any more time in the study. He slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him as softly as he had entered. His mind raced as he moved through the hall, retracing his steps to the servants’ staircase.
As he climbed the steps back toward the smoking room, he weighed his options. The gathering downstairs could yield something. Even the most inept of courtiers would drop a telling word after enough wine. He wasn’t about to give up yet.
By the time Dorian reached the second floor landing again, the sounds of laughter and conversation drifted up from below. He paused at the top of the stairs, listening. The Duke’s guests had not yet tired of their evening.
Dorian settled himself against the wall, waiting.
Minutes stretched into an hour. He’d heard every imaginable topic pass between the guests: politics, fashion, trivial gossip.
One of the more loquacious men had managed to drunkenly recount a sordid affair involving a cousin from some distant county.
He could feel his patience wearing thin.
He wasn’t here for scandal; he needed something useful.
Another hour passed. Still nothing.
Dorian shifted his weight from one foot to the other, annoyed but unwilling to leave empty-handed. He’d been through this dance too many times, waiting for something—anything—that would give him an advantage.
At last, the door to the smoking room creaked open. A few of the men stumbled out, their words slurred, their laughter echoing in the hallway. Dorian took his chance and quietly slipped past them, unnoticed.
He lingered by the stairs, watching them retreat down the hall. None of them had said anything particularly interesting—no mention of Ashvold, no secretive glances exchanged—but at least he had learned nothing was amiss here, for now.
With a final glance over his shoulder, Dorian made his way down the stairs and out of the estate’s front door. He moved quickly through the darkened streets, his thoughts heavy. There was still more to uncover, but tonight wasn’t the night.
By the time he arrived at his townhouse, he was exhausted. Tomorrow, he’d go and check out the Fairmonts. For now, however, he needed rest.
Dorian only employed a maid in his townhouse, who came by every other day to check all was in order and to forward any post. There wasn’t much in the house readily available to eat except for fruit and a little dried meat. Dorian was far too tired to cook.
He already missed Rookwood and Ariella and Soren and Selene. He missed knowing she was nearby, safe and breathing. He missed the warmth of having her in his house.
It was going to be a very lonely trip.