40. Teacups and Treason #2
Selene stares at her. She waits for something else to happen, some believable lie to spill from her mother’s mouth. This can’t be right. It can’t be .
But her mother says nothing.
“It’s you,” Selene breathes finally. “All this time… it’s been you. You’re the one who— It was never the Duke. You’re the one allying with Ashvold.”
Lady Duskbriar inclines her head, her expression cool, untroubled. “The Duke is a figurehead. He hasn’t the brains for such an alliance, only the ambition.”
Selene’s grip tightens around the letters. “You poisoned Dorian.” The words feel foreign in her mouth, as if spoken by someone else. “The Duke may have administered it, but you—”
Something shifts in her mother’s face. A flicker of something too fleeting to name.
“No,” Selene whispers, horror curling in her gut. “You did that yourself, didn’t you? When you asked to speak with him in the parlour.”
Lady Duskbriar absently touches her finger, as if seeking a ring that isn’t there.
When she speaks, her voice is almost soothing, as if smoothing the edges of something ugly.
“I didn’t know it would be quite as bad as I hear it was,” she says, as though that makes it better. “It was supposed to mimic an illness—”
“Mother!” Selene claps her hands over her mouth, bile rising in her throat. It was awful enough to watch him suffer through it, but for her own mother to have done that—
For Dorian to be suffering through the consequences even as they speak.
If they stick with this time, if she loses him later because of her mother’s actions…
Selene isn’t sure she can cope with that.
“Why would you… I love him! ”
“I know.” Her mother’s voice is soft, almost gentle.
“And I’m sorry about that. Truly. But love doesn’t last the way we want it to—at least not romantic love.
I loved your father, once upon a time. He professed to love me.
We can’t depend upon it, Selene. Love is a weapon men use against women.
They make us accept less, ask for less, under the pretence of it.
We must do this, or we do not love them.
They do love us, so they will look after us.
” She exhales, looking at Selene as if she were a child who still has much to learn. “Love does not protect. It ensnares.”
“Not for me,” Selene whispers. “Not for us.”
Her mother’s lips press into a thin line. “You’re a fool.”
“You raised me to be one.”
The words come out sharper than she means, but they aren’t untrue.
And an awful, terrible part of her wonders—if this is who her mother is, why didn’t she raise Selene to be the same?
Why hadn’t she told her? If Selene had known, if she’d been prepared, maybe she wouldn’t have been hurt by the Duke. Maybe she wouldn’t have been so blind.
Maybe she wouldn’t be standing here now, shaking with fury and grief.
If her mother had trusted her, she would have survived the Duke better. She wouldn’t have had to marry him at all. She would be an awful person, but she wouldn’t be so weak. She’d be strong enough to withstand anything.
“Sometimes, the best thing a woman can be in this world is a fool,” Lady Duskbriar says, as if reading her mind.
“She can’t be happy if she isn’t. How could any woman of intelligence be content in a society like ours, which doesn’t let her be herself?
But this alliance with Ashvold… it will change things for us.
Give us the power we should never have had to ask for. ”
“People are going to die.”
“People are always going to die,” her mother says simply. “History is littered with the bodies of those who have died for the greater good. In a hundred years, the women of this country will praise my name—the men too, if we raise them right. They will know I did what needed to be done.”
“There are…” Selene swallows. “There are other ways.”
“Oh?” Lady Duskbriar raises an eyebrow, amusement flickering at the edges of her expression.
“And what are they? Because we’ve tried asking nicely for years.
Tell me, Selene—how many times must we ask nicely for something we should never have had to ask for in the first place?
We should not have to beg to be considered human, to men who listen to their hounds more than their wives. ”
An awful, twisted part of Selene knows that her mother is right. She knows things aren’t perfect. She knows that other women have it far worse than herself. She knows they shouldn’t have to ask.
She knows things are unfair.
But she also knows that she can’t stand by and let Ashvold invade. That the promise of a better future tomorrow cannot excuse murder today.
And it won’t be murder. It will be genocide.
How can any future be worth that?
“You would have given me to the Duke,” Selene whispers. “You think he would have been a good husband?”
“He wouldn’t have beat you—”
“He would have killed me.” Her mother can’t know that he had. In one lifetime, he’d murdered her. In another, he’d killed her in every other way.
It was Dorian, not the goddess, who brought her back to life.
“Don’t be dramatic, dear. You wouldn’t have had to have been married to him for long. As soon as the tunnel was complete, I’d have slipped something into his tea too.”
“You… you didn’t need to,” Selene continues, still dumbfounded. “Why would you even need the Duke to marry me? You could have just asked me, I’d have given you the estate if you wanted it—”
Lady Duskbriar smiles sadly. “Except it wouldn’t have been yours to give,” she explains. “You are a beautiful, wonderful woman, Selene. Someone was always going to sweep you off your feet. And then I would have to rely on your husband’s wishes, which I have no way of ascertaining.”
Selene swallows. “That’s why you poisoned Dorian, isn’t it? It wasn’t to let the Duke abduct me—”
Lady Duskbriar’s eyes darken. “I would never have done that to you,” she says. “Once the Duke heard of my plans, he acted alone. I promise you, my dear girl, it was never my intention to hurt you.”
“Watching my husband die would have hurt me! ”
The smile her mother offers her is so sad, so sympathetic, that it disgusts her. Why is she so calm?
Something in Selene’s stomach drops.
I’d have slipped something into his tea too.
That wasn’t how she poisoned Dorian.
At least, not the first time.
“Mother,” Selene says, her body cold, “what did you do?”
“It’ll be relatively painless this time,” she responds. “I’m sorry, my dear, but I’ve worked too hard for this.”
Selene thinks she might be sick. “How… how long?” she manages.
“He’ll be dead within the hour. Don’t fight it, it’s all for the best—”
Selene doesn’t hear the end of that sentence. She doesn’t want to, doesn’t need to. All that she needs to do is get back to Dorian as soon as possible—
Selene runs.
The letters crumple in her grip, her mother’s words still clawing at her mind, but they don’t matter now.
Only Dorian matters.
“Soren!” she screams as she approaches the house.
Her breath tears from her lungs as she sprints through the halls, her legs burning as she takes the steps two at a time. How long has it been since Dorian ingested the tea? She doesn’t know. She’d not thought to look at the time—
“ Soren! ” she screams again, her voice ragged with panic.
She grabs a nearby servant. “Ready three horses,” she tells them. “Immediately.”
The servant sprints off. Doors fling open. Soren, Ariella, and Rookwood burst into the corridor, alarm written across their faces.
“What is it?” Soren demands, already moving toward her.
“There’s no time!” She grabs his wrist and drags him down the hall. “We need to get Dorian to the temple.”
Soren doesn’t ask questions. Ariella and Rookwood exchange glances but stay mute. Ariella spins on her heel, barking orders to the servants, while Rookwood hobbles ahead towards the stables.
Selene doesn’t stop. She can’t. She hauls Soren with her, slamming open the bedroom door.
Dorian lies half-sprawled on the mattress, his shirt loose at the collar, his brow furrowed even in sleep. She crosses the room in an instant and grabs his shoulders, shaking him hard.
“Dorian! Wake up.”
He groans, his eyes fluttering open. “What—”
“We need to go. Now. ”
Dorian tries to sit up, sluggish. “What’s happened?”
Selene’s throat tightens. “You’ve been poisoned. Again . ”
He stares at her, then lets out a strained, incredulous groan. “ Again? ”
“Yes, and if you don’t get up right now, you won’t get another chance to complain about it.”
Dorian blinks at her, then at Soren, who is already reaching to help him up. His expression sharpens. “Do you have an antidote?”
“For ashberry, yes.”
“It’s not ashberry,” Selene rushes. “I don’t know what it is!”
Her mother won’t tell her. Selene doesn’t dare risk Dorian’s life on the assumption that they can make her talk in time.
“Selene—” Dorian starts.
“I’ll explain everything later. Temple first. ”
He hesitates for only a moment before nodding. Soren hauls him to his feet, half-supporting him as they stumble towards the door.
Footsteps thunder down the hall. Servants rush to bring out the horses, the courtyard a flurry of movement.
Her mother steps into her path just as Selene reaches the entrance.
“Selene,” Lady Duskbriar says, her voice calm, patient, cold. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Selene shoves past her. “Out of my way. ”
“Selene.” Her mother catches her wrist, her grip like iron. “This is fruitless . There’s no antidote. You can’t save him.”
Selene wrenches free, her breath coming sharp and fast. “You have no idea what I can do.”
She pushes past her, backing her into a suit of armour, paying no attention to her father and grandmother as they demand an explanation.
“Ask her!” she spits. “Ask her why she poisoned my husband!”
If this timeline endures, Selene wants her mother to struggle. She screams it loud enough for the whole house to hear.