20. A Powerless Promise
T he next day, after dinner as promised, Dorian made his way to Selene’s chambers. He had been looking forward to this all evening—far more than he should have.
They settled themselves into his room beside the window for another round of Last Man Home .
“I went easy on you last time,” he said, watching as she arranged her pieces. “Tonight, I shall be taking no prisoners.”
Selene lifted her chin, the candlelight catching in her hair.
It made it shine like molten silver. “We shall see,” she said, her voice touched with a quiet, self-assured confidence.
It struck him then, how easily he could imagine her like this always.
Had she been like this before? Before her marriage in her past timeline, before the Duke?
Before whatever had dimmed the sharpness in her eyes and turned her into someone who hesitated before taking up space?
“About last night…” she began .
Dorian stiffened. He’d been regretting his shortness with her most of the day. “Please, Selene, I truly am sorry—”
“I believe you,” she said swiftly. “That isn’t what I want to address.”
Relief eased his chest, though it was swiftly replaced by curiosity. “Oh?”
Selene studied the board for a long moment before speaking.
“I’ve been taught to be humble,” she admitted. “I’m never supposed to agree with a compliment, especially around men. From a very young age, much of my education has revolved around how to make men happy, often at the expense of my own.”
This wasn’t news to Dorian. He wasn’t sure if they’ve had the exact same conversation before, or if he just knew it because he knew her.
“I’m sorry that you were treated that way,” he said.
“But I hope that you know… you don’t have to do that here.
You don’t need to pretend, or perform, or do anything you don’t want to. ”
“I… I do know,” Selene told him. “I’m just… adjusting to feeling it.”
Dorian leant back in his chair. “You know, I’ve always wondered what you girls did in the classes we took separately…”
“You were not missing much, I assure you.” She hesitated, then asked, “What did you boys do, in your classes?”
He moved his piece absently. “Fencing,” he began. “A lot of politics and history. Philosophy, public speaking and debating—”
“I bet you were excellent at that.”
He scowled at her, though a smile tugged at his mouth. “Etiquette, chivalry and honour—”
“Now, that I imagine you did excel in.”
This time, he smiled properly. “Some military training, fencing—”
“You said that twice.”
“Did I?”
They smiled at each other, and for a moment, everything felt easy. He could have stayed in this moment forever. Just her and the candlelight, the faint hum of the world outside her window, the space between them narrowing with every shared look .
It would almost have been enough. Almost.
His grin faltered first.
“You don’t have to hide yourself,” he reminded her. “You don’t have to cower or dim your light to make others feel better. You never have to be anything other than yourself.”
Selene studied him, something shifting in her expression. “And you?”
He forced a lightness into his tone. “Oh, I don’t really have much of a light to dim.”
“That’s not exactly what I meant…”
“No?”
“You’re… you’re hiding too.”
Dorian glanced away, hating how she saw right through him and how much he had to conceal. “Everyone’s hiding something, Selene. Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m different.”
He suspected she’d already made that mistake, and damn it all, he wanted her to think he was different. He wanted her to see something in him worth trusting. Someone worth being with, even if he never found the courage to be with her in return.
Selene hesitated, her fingers grazing the edge of the board. “Something happened to you, didn’t it?” she asked. “Something happened after your father’s death, when you disappeared from society—”
His throat tightened. “Selene—”
“You can tell me, I promise I won’t judge—”
“It’s not your judgement I fear.”
“Then—”
“Selene!” He stood abruptly, and she flinched. The motion was too sudden, too sharp. She shrank back in her chair, eyes flicking toward the door, bracing.
Gods, what had been done to her?
The realisation burned through him like fire.
His stomach turned, sickened by the mere thought of it, and suddenly, he couldn’t bear it any longer—the space between them, the unspoken words, the weight of everything he hadn’t done.
His body moved before his mind caught up .
He dropped to his knees before her, his head bowing against her lap as though she were the only thing left in the world that could keep him tethered.
For a long, breathless moment, Selene didn’t move. He couldn’t blame her. As far as she was concerned, they barely knew each other. She could never understand why he needed this so much.
He waited for her to shove him away, but she didn’t. Dorian remained where he was, head against her lap, not daring to breathe too deeply.
Just for a moment, he begged her. Just for a moment, let me hold you the way I used to.
Her arms curled around his back, tentative at first. Then her fingers found his hair, combing through his ponytail with the kind of touch he hadn’t realised he ached for. His breath caught, something deep in his chest unravelling.
He could stay like this.
He wanted to stay like this.
Selene smelled of something soft and clean. Her warmth was a beacon, a light he wanted to crawl towards. The way she held him—it wasn’t as if she pitied him, wasn’t as if she reluctantly allowed his closeness. It was something else entirely.
Almost like she wanted it too.
“Can we make a promise?” she whispered, as if afraid of breaking something if she spoke too loudly.
Dorian huffed a small laugh, letting his forehead rest against her thigh. He’d promise her anything, but he’d prefer to know what he was getting into beforehand. “Terms first.”
“Maybe we can hug each other instead of lying,” she said, her voice gentle. “If we can’t tell each other the truth, at least let’s avoid lies.”
Dorian lifted his head, looking at her properly.
It felt almost too perfect. He didn’t want to lie to her, and he definitely, definitely wanted to hold her.
Being honest could be so hard, but there was something candid about admitting that, about making a decision not to lie even if you couldn’t tell the truth .
He’d made promises before. This one was the easiest he’d ever made.
He smiled. “I’d like that.”
Then, all at once, he remembered himself.
He coughed, pulling back—pulling away —before he could linger too long. What had he been doing ? He had thrown himself into her lap like a desperate fool, like some lost thing seeking warmth, and—gods—he would do it again in a heartbeat if she let him.
Trying to recover what little dignity he had left, he stood, then sat back down as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t just let himself collapse into her touch.
Selene, for her part, said nothing. She merely played her next card, a quiet determination in her eyes.
Dorian huffed another laugh, shaking his head.
Of course she was still trying to beat him.
And he, as ever, was utterly powerless to try to stop her.
Selene was moved into another room the next day while hers was being refurbished. Her room, the dressing room and bathroom were out of commission for the time being. She left his space alone, which he appreciated, but refused to say any more about the rest of the project.
He found he missed her presence more than he expected. It didn’t seem to matter that she was just down the hall. He’d grown used to her being so close by, an invisible warmth on the other side of the door.
He couldn’t tell her any of this, of course .
A few evenings later, Selene descended into his chambers with a perfectly-written marriage contract, making their promise to each other the other night almost legally binding. It made Dorian want to laugh. It made him feel more married.
Life with Selene was pain and pleasure paired.
She was his and not his, Luna and not Luna.
It became harder and harder to tell where she ended and Luna began, and Dorian found himself increasingly indifferent.
Yes, it was hard, yes, he sometimes found himself trying to talk to her about a book she hadn’t yet read, or an event they hadn’t shared, but it was still becoming easier and easier to just sit with her and talk with her and be.
He found himself sleeping better and sleeping longer. Something about his evenings with her settled him, made it easier to drift off into slumber. The nightmares came less frequently and with less potency. He became more likely to eat with the others and less likely to forget at all.
He was still working, of course, still busy ensuring that every bad incident that could be avoided was, still trying to ascertain the Duke’s next move and working through his list of suspects, but he found it easier to balance and less consuming than he used to.
He managed to keep Marta busy during the date she usually spent with Jon and became pregnant.
Or, more specifically, he asked Selene to request her presence.
Marta had been known in the past to refuse to spend the evening with Ariella or another of her friends, but she didn’t refuse a request from her lady.
She was saved for another loop.
He wondered what else he’d been able to save with Selene by his side.