36. Nocturne Hall #3
Soren exhales again, as if weighing his words.
“It’s colder than Haverland,” he says at last. “Makes our summers clearer, somehow. It feels like winter half of the year. It’s a land of fjords and fields.
The food tends to be richer, more flavourful.
We’ve a good trade route with the east.” A faint smile tugs at his lips, but it fades quickly.
“It’s different from here in other ways, too.
There’s still a social divide, of course, but most places are more like Thornmere.
And there’s very little difference in the way men and women are treated.
” He turns to her, watching her reaction carefully.
“The Duke would never have been able to control your birthright in Ashvold.”
Selene blinks. She had never imagined such a place existed—at least, not in any way that was relevant to her. “It sounds better,” she says, her voice betraying both curiosity and a trace of longing.
Soren shrugs. “Parts of it are,” he admits. “But the people are… colder. More logical—to a fault, you could say. ”
Selene frowns, glancing towards the house as she considers that. “Aren’t most people like that?” she asks, thinking of the Duke, of her parents, of nearly every noble family she has ever known.
“Upper classes, maybe,” Soren allows. “But most people aren’t like that. In the entirety of Thornmere, the only person truly worthy of hatred is Alfred. Most people here are good. Warm.”
Selene hesitates. “Worth betraying your country over?”
Soren doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, his gaze flickers towards the house, towards her window—where Dorian is likely still sleeping. When he finally speaks, his voice is softer. “What wouldn’t you do for him?”
Selene presses her lips together. “A fair point,” she concedes. But she isn’t quite ready to leave the subject behind. “Surely you must have left someone behind?” she asks. “Weren’t you friends with some of your fellow assassins? You must have grown up together.”
Soren exhales sharply, his expression hardening. “We weren’t raised like a family,” he says. “There was no softness between us. I don’t think…” He trails off.
Selene waits, patient but expectant. “You don’t think what?”
His jaw tightens, and when he speaks again, there’s something almost reluctant about it. “I know it’s not accurate, but I think the first time I was hugged was by Gideon.” He pauses, glancing down. “The day I tried to kill him.”
Selene stares at him. And then, without thinking, she steps forward and wraps her arms around him.
Soren stiffens instantly. “What are you doing?” he demands, his voice edged with alarm.
“You cannot complain about not being hugged for your entire childhood and then expect people not to hug you,” she informs him, tightening her grip.
“I wasn’t complaining,” he grumbles. “I was… commenting.”
“Should I stop?”
He hesitates. “…I didn’t say that.”
Selene smirks against his shoulder but doesn’t push further. They stand there for a moment, quiet except for the distant rustling of wind through the trees .
“I wasn’t hugged much as a child, either,” she murmurs. “I know it’s not the same, but… I can count the number of times my mother has hugged me. I’m not sure my father ever has.”
Soren’s arms slowly come up, resting awkwardly against her back. “Selene?”
“Yes?”
“You’ll be a much better parent than yours ever were.”
She pulls back slightly to look at him, her expression wry. “I would be hard-pressed to be worse…”
Soren smiles. “Dorian told you, didn’t he? About you and him and your previous life?”
Selene nods.
“And…” he prompts.
“And the baby, yes.”
Soren studies her face. “How do you feel about that?”
“I don’t know,” she admits. She crosses her arms, glancing away.
“I was never pregnant. Not this version of me, anyway. I don’t feel like I lost anything.
In a way, I am relieved to know that I can bear a child, after thinking I was the problem the Duke and I never had any, but…
” Her throat tightens. “I’m sad for Dorian.
For the life we could have led. And I desperately, desperately want that future for us again. ”
Soren’s smile turns teasing. “When it happens, I get to be the favourite uncle.”
Selene lets out a short laugh. “Ooh, are you sure about that? Because Rookwood’s an awfully good cook.”
“Hmm. Fair point. Perhaps you should have three. One for me, Ariella, and Rook.”
“Or five, so Dorian and I get one each too…”
A silence stretches across the lawns, not uncomfortable.
“Five is too many,” Selene concludes. She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t think I’d want to go through the whole business that many times.”
Soren groans. “Dorian would be unbearable each time. Frantic with worry… ”
Selene giggles. “Perhaps it would be unfair to put either of us through such an ordeal more than a couple of times…”
She never liked being an only child, and she knows Dorian felt the same. He probably still thinks about the child his mother had died with. She doesn’t think either of them would like to risk it too many times, but to have at least two to play with, to raise, to watch…
After the Duke is defeated, she reminds herself. After the future is secure.
She’s interrupted from her thoughts by Dorian’s arrival. He strolls out towards them, face bright. “Brother,” he says, offering Soren a curt nod before turning to Selene. “Wife.”
“Why does he get the first greeti—”
Dorian slides his arm around her and brings her mouth to his.
“Oh,” Selene says, a little breathless, “because I get that.”
Dorian smiles at her again. “You should have woken me.”
“You were tired.”
“I will take tired over waking to a bed without you in it.” He links his fingers into hers. “Also, your parents are here, did you know that?”
Selene groans. “I am, alas, aware. I should probably go back in an attempt to make nice with them…”
Dorian raises an eyebrow, seeking the information he’s missing.
“I may have stormed out of breakfast.”
“Why so?”
“I didn’t like that my mother was describing me as ‘tempting’.”
Dorian grins broadly. “That’s my darling wife. Come, my dear, let’s scandalise them some more. I promise to be on my absolute worst behaviour…”