8. Loss
T he fire in the bower had burned low, casting flickering shadows across the walls. Selene sat beside him, her legs tucked beneath her, one hand resting idly on her belly. Dorian watched her, barely hearing the fire crackle or the night wind rustling through the trees outside.
“You’re staring,” Selene murmured, a knowing smile playing at her lips.
“I’m memorising you,” he admitted.
She rolled her eyes, but the faintest pink touched her cheeks. “Dorian, really—”
He reached out, covering her hand with his, and before he could think better of it, he pressed his palm more firmly against her stomach. “Wait,” he whispered. “Just—just stay still.”
For a moment, there was nothing. And then —
A flutter.
His breath caught.
Selene watched him, something achingly tender in her gaze. “You feel it?”
He nodded, throat tight. It wasn’t much, just the barest shift beneath his touch, but it was real. His child, alive and moving.
Selene reached up, cupping his face. “It won’t be long before you can’t miss it.”
He turned his head and kissed her palm. “I wish you could stay longer.”
Her face darkened. “I can’t. The Duke has plans tonight. If I’m not there…” She shook her head. “I can’t risk it.”
Dorian exhaled sharply, pushing back the surge of frustration. “Then I’ll walk you back.”
She hesitated, but nodded. “Only part of the way. You know you can’t be seen.”
They left the warmth of the bower behind, stepping into the cool night air. The forest smelled of damp earth and distant rain, the path beneath their feet softened by fallen leaves. They walked in silence, Selene close at his side, his hand brushing hers with every step.
The manor loomed ahead, its dark silhouette cutting against the sky.
And then—voices.
Selene stiffened.
Dorian recognised the voice before he saw the figure step out from the trees. Low, imperious, dripping with entitlement.
The Duke.
“Hide,” Selene whispered.
There was no time to argue. Dorian melted into the shadows, pressing himself into the darkness as Selene took a breath and stepped forward, her expression poised.
“Your Grace,” she greeted, voice smooth as water.
The Duke’s gaze swept over her, searching. “You’re late.”
“I took a walk,” she replied evenly. “I needed the air. It’s supposed to be good for growing babies.”
The Duke scoffed. “It’s freezing out here— ”
“I am wrapped up warmly, as you can see.” She gestured to her cloak. “I am taking good care of your heir, Your Grace, I promise you.”
For a moment, Duke Drakefell simply watched her, weighing her words. Then—his eyes flicked past her.
And locked onto Dorian.
The world slowed.
Selene turned sharply, as if to block his view, but it was too late.
The Duke’s expression darkened, venom curdling in his gaze. He moved fast, seizing Selene’s wrist before she could step away. She gasped, trying to pull free. Dorian stepped forward, not thinking—
Steel flashed. The Duke drew a dagger, holding it to Selene’s neck.
“Well, look who we have here.” The Duke’s lips curled as he twisted Selene’s arm. She let out a soft cry. “Dorian Nightbloom, out after dark, with my wife, in a place he hasn’t been invited to.”
“Please,” Selene gasped. “You’re hurting me.”
“Let her go.” Dorian’s voice was low, dangerous.
The Duke didn’t even look at him. “You are in no position to make demands.” His grip tightened. “Now, perhaps one of you would like to explain what you’re doing together.”
Silence.
The Duke’s sneer deepened. “Tell me, wife, is it my heir you carry? The one you take such good care of? Or is it his?”
Figures loomed in the shadows behind him. Guards? Staff? Dorian couldn’t tell in the dim light, but none of them moved. None of them stopped him.
Do something, he begged them. Don’t let him do this.
No one stepped in.
His eyes snapped back to Selene. Lie to him , he silently urged. Say whatever you have to.
“Of course it’s yours!” Selene said, her voice trembling. “It couldn’t possibly be anyone else’s! I am your true and loyal wife—”
“Then what, exactly, is he doing here? ”
Dorian didn’t hesitate. “I’ve been spying on you,” he said, loud enough for the Duke’s audience to hear. He had to make them believe it. “I know you’re allying with Ashvold. I was searching for proof. I thought Selene might assist me. She refused.”
The Duke’s sneer deepened, a cruel amusement flashing in his eyes. “ Selene ?” he repeated, his voice almost playful. “You’re awfully familiar with my wife.”
Selene trembled, tears streaking silently down her cheeks.
“And if my true and loyal wife refused to help you, why was not that the first thing she mentioned when she came to me?”
Neither of them had an answer for that.
“You know what?” The Duke yanked her closer, pressing his dagger against the pale column of her throat. “I don’t think I believe you.”
“Please, Your Grace!” she gasped. “Think of your child!”
He tilted his head, considering. And then, in the calmest voice imaginable, he said, “I already have what I need from you. And I can get another heir. One I know is mine.”
Dorian surged forward—
The blade rose higher.
Selene whimpered. Her breath hitched.
“Dorian,” she whispered, voice barely a breath. Her eyes locked onto his, wide with fear, shining with tears. And then, softer still—
“ In the next life .”
His stomach dropped.
He knew exactly what she meant.
She was telling him to go. To run. To return to the temple. To start again—
Without her. Without their baby.
Her hands clutched at her stomach, cradling the tiny bump he had come to love so fiercely.
No.
No, no—
But they were outnumbered. Even if he had a sword, there were too many. Even if Soren were here, he couldn’t cut through them all in time .
There was only one way out.
Dorian swallowed, his hands clenched into fists. His voice was raw when he spoke.
“I love you.”
Selene parted her lips, as if to say something back—
But she never got the chance.
The Duke sliced his blade across her neck. The sickening slice of steel through flesh branded the air. It was a sound that would haunt Dorian’s dreams, along with the awful image of Selene gasping on her own blood, sinking to the ground, the grass staining with crimson around her.
Dorian screamed. He had to get to her, to hold her, to save her—
But there was only one way to save Selene now.
So Dorian did the worst thing he had ever done.
He left her behind, and ran.
Dorian flew through the forest.
The cold night air burned his lungs, branches whipped at his face, and the ground blurred beneath his feet. Blood roared in his ears, a deafening pulse that drowned out everything else—everything except the pounding of boots behind him.
They were chasing him. The Duke’s men.
Selene—
No, no, no —
He bit down on the thought and kept running. His limbs screamed for rest, but he couldn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop.
“Soren!” His voice tore through the trees, ragged and desperate. “ Soren !”
Nothing.
Where was he? Why wasn’t he here ?
He stumbled, barely catching himself before he hit the frozen earth. His breath came in short, sharp gasps, clouds of it curling in the night air. Somewhere behind him, a voice barked orders.
Close.
Too close.
He forced himself forward, slipping between trees, ducking low, moving where the shadows were thickest. He didn’t have Soren’s skill for vanishing into the dark, but desperation made him fast. He cut through the undergrowth, his mind racing.
The temple. He had to get to the temple and make sure they didn’t follow.
He barely made it.
He collapsed onto the cold stone steps, chest heaving, limbs trembling with exhaustion. His stomach churned. His hands curled into fists, bloodied from scrabbling through brambles.
Soren would come. He had to. Dorian couldn’t return alone, not after…
Minutes passed. Then an hour.
No one came.
If he didn’t meet Soren at their meeting place, he was certain to come here searching for him, but if Dorian lingered, if the Duke’s men discovered him here alive… he didn’t want to think about that.
He didn’t want to think about anything.
He’d lost her. Selene. Their baby. They were both gone.
His breath hitched, and a broken sound slipped from his throat. No, no, no. This couldn’t be how it ended.
He had to go back.
He had to save her.
His shaking hands fumbled at his belt, finding the small vial Soren had given him long ago. A last resort. An emergency exit.
One sip would slow his heart. Two would stop it.
He didn’t hesitate.
He uncorked the vial and swallowed.