Page 37 of The Girl Who Fell Through Time (To Fall Through Time #1)

“It is,” he agrees. “It’s a long story, but it starts just over four years ago, when my father received that letter from Duke Drakefell.”

Selene glances back at the paper. “Your father?”

Dorian nods. “My father was no fool, and he knew to be wary of any offer from the Duke. He had no love for the man, but he was curious as to why the Duke was wanting to do business with him, of all people. He attended the meeting, and he could gather that what the Duke was looking for from him was… people.”

“People?” Selene’s brows furrowed. “Whatever for? ”

“I’ll get to that,” Dorian explains. “My father is no man of business, but he is good with people, and looking out for those under his care. He wanted my father to find people in need of work, for a job in the north, paid handsomely—or so he said. My father sensed that he was in danger of getting involved in something… untoward. He politely declined the Duke’s offer, made his excuses, and left.

He thought that would be the end of it. And perhaps it would have been, had the Duke and his other allies not decided that my father still posed too much of a threat. They sent an assassin after him.”

Selene can scarcely believe what she’s hearing. “An assassin?”

“Yes. Luckily for him, it was the assassin’s first solo mission.

The assassin’s guild in Ashvold, they do things differently.

There’s honour in killing a person that needs to be killed—one for the many, or so they say.

The assassin researched his mark before attempting the kill, and found he had qualms with killing him… particularly when I got in the way.”

“You—you were there when this happened?” Selene tries to imagine it. Dorian would have been what—sixteen? Seventeen? She can’t imagine witnessing such a thing at such a young age.

Dorian nods. “I begged the assassin to stop, and so did my father. He appealed to the boy, made him put down the weapon… and he did. He told my father everything he knew. Which, admittedly, wasn’t much, but it was enough for my father to draw the connection between Drakefell and Ashvold.”

“What… what happened next?”

“My father adopted the assassin.”

“Your father…” Selene thinks for a moment, almost certain Dorian is joking. “Your father adopted the man who tried to kill him? ”

“Soren’s hardly a man. He was only thirteen at the time, and, to be fair, he didn’t exactly try very hard.”

“ Soren? ” Selene screeches. “Soren—Soren tried to kill your father? Soren was an assassin?”

“Well, technically, you only become an assassin when you complete your first solo assassination, so he’s merely a slightly murderous acolyte…”

Selene sways slightly in her seat. She’s glad she was told to sit down. It makes a degree of sense. Why Soren seems to slide out of the shadows, how he moves so carefully, like he’s balancing on a knife. The way he always seems ready for battle.

It even explains why he’s so attached to Dorian, and, presumably, Gideon—once upon a time. They’d saved him from whatever was waiting for him in Ashvold. They’d spared him when they could have had him killed.

They should have taken him before King Alden and had him confess. Soren would likely have been executed. Maybe the King would have believed him about the Duke… or maybe he wouldn’t. The word of one assassin would not count as proof.

“And… after that?” Selene asks. She’s still dazed, still trying to wrap her head around all that she’s been told, but she needs to know the rest.

“Together, the three of us started investigating Drakefell, discovering more of his plans. We knew he wasn’t acting alone, that he’d asked others for their support, but…

we didn’t know who. We eventually discovered his interest in the Ashvold mountains.

It looked like he was trying to open a pass there, before realising such an endeavour would likely take him years. ”

But not if he went through the mines .

Selene isn’t sure she should voice this. Would the Selene that she’s supposed to be put this all together? Did she even know about the empty mines a year ago?

Her head hurts. “And then?” she manages.

Dorian sighs. He looks pale, tired, exhausted—like this is the part of the story he wants to avoid. “Then my father succumbed to a second assassination attempt.”

Selene sucks in a breath. “I thought… your father died of illness.”

“My father was poisoned,” Dorian clarifies. “Fortunately, Drakefell didn’t seem to think I posed much of a threat, and he’s left me alone.”

“Until now.”

“Yes, until now.”

“You’ve been staying away from society to hide from him.”

Dorian nods. “I make myself invisible so that no one tries to make me disappear.”

The words hit Selene lit a punch to the chest. She recalls the coffin of Gideon Nightbloom, dressed in flowers. She imagines it’s Dorian’s instead.

He is not allowed to disappear. No matter how angry, or how shocked she is—she cannot allow that.

Disappear, disappear… why does that word stick with her?

Dorian carries on. “Soren and I have been investigating the Duke and his allies ever since,” he explains.

“Ariella and Rookwood know what we do, but not the specifics. There’s a limit to the ways they can help us.

We know Drakefell is working with at least two other lords—maybe more. Lord Fairmont is one of them.”

“Which is why he was so lenient on the boy caught poaching.”

Dorian nods.

Selene doesn’t know whether to be impressed or horrified. The idea that Dorian has been doing all of this since he was little more than a child, that he’s been plotting and planning all this time, is unreal.

Selene’s stomach churns.

He’s known all along what the Duke is capable of.

She stares at Dorian, her fingers curling into fists. “You made me think I was an idiot for believing something was amiss there.”

Dorian’s face tenses. “I was hoping to make you think you were safe.”

Safe. As if ignorance is the same as protection. As if keeping her blind was some kind of kindness.

Selene’s pulse pounds in her ears. “This is why you married me, isn’t it?” Her voice is unsteady, but the words strike like steel. “You knew what the Duke was planning. If you married me—”

“In part,” Dorian admits. “But… that wasn’t the only reason. I truly didn’t want to see you marry that man.”

It should soften the blow, but it doesn’t.

Selene laughs, but there’s no humour in it. “You’re just like him,” she snaps. “You, the Duke, my father—everyone keeping me in the dark, deciding my life for me, controlling me for your own ends—”

She hears herself, hears the sharpness in her voice, but she can’t stop. A part of her knows Dorian isn’t like them, not truly. She knows he cares for her, even if he won’t say it outright. She knows his intentions are noble.

But none of that matters right now.

Right now, all she can think about is how exhausted she is—of secrets, of lies, of men thinking they know what’s best for her.

“Selene—” Dorian reaches out.

“Get away from me! ”

She marches away from him, back to her own room. Dorian steps towards her, but dissolves into another coughing fit. The door slams shut between them.

It feels like something else is slamming shut, too. Some faint hope that Selene had of everything being fine, of Dorian liking her back.

Of them being a real couple. A real family.

She gathers Mistress Stripe in her arms and sobs into her fur.

She should have known better than to believe in happy endings.