33. A Fellow Traveller #2
A soft knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. A moment later, Marta stepped inside, carrying a tray of fresh tea and a damp cloth. She took one look at him and smiled.
“Awake at last,” she murmured, setting the tray down. “How are you feeling?”
Dorian didn’t answer immediately. He held up the totem instead, turning it between his fingers. “Did Soren make this?”
Marta glanced at it, then shook her head. “Lady Selene had me ask Jon for it.”
Dorian froze. He had been bracing for an answer, but not that one.
Selene?
“You’re sure?” he queried, because he needed to be certain.
Perhaps Soren had tasked Selene with commissioning it before he raced off.
Though, it seemed unlikely that Soren would waste time issuing such an endeavour.
He was not particularly sentimental, and pragmatic in his approach to the goddess’ powers.
He would not think a totem would make a difference.
Dorian’s fingers tightened around the totem, the sharp edges pressing into his palm. He forced his expression to remain impassive, but his thoughts whirled. How could Selene have any idea about the goddess in the ruined temple? Unless—
Unless…
He stood up abruptly, which turned out to be a bad idea. His legs almost fall out beneath him. He steadied himself on the bedpost, taking a deep breath, making sure he could make it the rest of the way. He thought Selene might be up by now. He could hear voices next door.
Dorian had barely reached the door when it swung open. Selene stood there, breathless, eyes wide with something raw and desperate—and before he could say a word, she launched herself at him .
He staggered back, catching her instinctively, arms locking tight around her.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Neither of them moved. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pressing against his back, as if to reassure herself that he was real.
He breathed against the crown of her head, her heartbeat steady beneath his palm.
“Are you all right?” he murmured into her hair. “He didn’t hurt you?”
Selene shook her head. “I’m fine.” She pulled back, hands cradling his face. Her touch was like a bolt of warmth. “You?”
“Feeling much better,” he told her. “Still a little unsteady—do you mind if I sit down?”
He was in no mood to be apart from her, but he also didn’t want to collapse in front of her, either. Luckily, Selene had a compromise in mind. She dragged him toward the bed, pulling him down with her onto the mattress, and settled against his chest, one arm wrapping securely around his waist.
“This… this also works.”
It worked so well that his thoughts turned gummy. He’d quite forgotten everything else he was supposed to say. What did it all matter when Selene was here, and safe, and in his arms?
They stayed like that for a while, Selene’s fingers playing idly with the laces of his nightshirt, occasionally brushing against his skin.
His hand drifted through her hair, slow and soothing.
He knew they needed to talk. Knew they couldn’t just exist in this fragile moment forever.
But for now, he just wanted to savour it.
Eventually, he exhaled. “Selene, there’s something I need to tell you.” There is so much I need to tell you…
She shifted, propping herself up on her elbows. “I have something I need to tell you too.”
Dorian studied her, waiting, but she hesitated, passing the next move back to him.
“But first,” he said, pushing himself upright, “I was hoping you might explain this to me. ”
He reached up to his pillow, retrieving the small wooden totem of the fifth goddess from where he’d dropped it earlier, and held it between them.
Selene went utterly still.
“I’ve already asked Marta about it,” he continued. “She says you asked Jon to make it. My question is—why?”
Selene took a breath, then exhaled. He watched her every expression, waiting. “There’s a temple, near my grandmother’s house,” she said carefully. “Hidden.”
Dorian’s heart thumped. It couldn’t be…
“You’ve been there?”
“Yes,” she said. “And also… no.”
Dorian waited.
“I think the temple is home to a fifth goddess,” she admitted. “I think… I think she sent me back in time.”
Dorian didn’t react—didn’t move, didn’t speak. He could hardly believe what he was hearing. Selene—this Selene—might not have been Luna, but…
“You… think ?” he managed.
Selene squared her shoulders. “She did,” she said, more firmly this time.
“She sent me back in time. One year. The reason I needed to marry you was because I knew exactly what the Duke was planning… because I’d seen it happen.
In my original timeline, almost a year after our marriage, the Duke opened a path between Haverland and Ashvold and invaded our country. ”
Dorian’s expression didn’t shift. He only stared at her.
“I know it all sounds too fantastic to be real…” Selene let out a nervous laugh. “I don’t even know how to prove it to you… I’ve got a terribly bad memory for anything outside of society events—”
“Selene.” Dorian’s hands found hers. “I believe you.”
“So easily?”
He watched her face as a dozen tiny things must all have clicked into place.
Selene’s eyes widened. Her hand flew to her mouth. “ Dorian,” she gasped, “you too?”
Dorian let out a long breath. “Oh, my Luna,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “Do I have a story to tell you…”