Chapter 10

The sun had long slipped from the columns. After their bath, the day had dragged on in a strange silence. Merit and Nakht had avoided each other without truly fleeing. She hadn’t come to share the meal, and he hadn’t insisted.

When Nakht stepped into the chamber, she was already there.

Seated on a wooden chair by the window, she gazed at the violet sky where the first stars began to pierce the dusk. Her hands rested clasped on her knees. She knew he was there but pretended not to notice.

Nakht moved closer, step by step, until he was beside her. The quiet between them wasn’t hostile—more like a fragile balance, so delicate a single breath might shatter it.

He bent his knees. At her side, he sank down, searching her eyes. “Merit ... the choice is still yours. Always. One word from you, and we’ll stop. Nothing is forced. Even now, we could still turn back.”

His words hovered between them like a vow. He lowered his head slightly, resting it gently against her thigh.

Merit drew a shallow breath. Her face softened, though her chest tightened. She whispered almost inaudibly: “Thank you.”

Her fingers slipped into his hair, coming to rest on his nape. Not like a queen bestowing a blessing, but like a sister soothing her brother. A simple, unexpected gesture that made Nakht tremble.

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy. It hummed with a timid tenderness, fragile but real.

Merit said nothing. But her being there, in this chamber, was answer enough. Nakht knew it: if she stayed, it meant she accepted to walk beside him. Even trembling, even uncertain, she had not run.

And so he understood—it was his turn to lead their steps.

He rose, moved away just slightly, then lay back on the wooden bed without removing his tunic. He turned to her, his throat tight. “Merit...?” he breathed.

She hesitated. Yet she rose, the soft rustle of her veils breaking the stillness. At the edge of the bed, her fingers tightened around the fabric. Her voice, nearly extinguished, faltered: “Cl ... clothed...?”

Nakht’s smile was awkward, but genuine. He lowered his gaze, answering softly: “We don’t have to ... rush.”

A tremor passed across her face. She inhaled, shut her eyes briefly, then slid onto the bed beside him.

They faced each other on their sides. Nakht forced another smile, too taut, too nervous. “You’re okay...?” he whispered, like a child fearing the reply.

Merit tried to answer, but her lips quivered. No word came. She fixed her gaze on a fold in his tunic, unable to meet his eyes.

Inside her, two forces clashed. One part of her screamed to flee, to leave this room, to escape her brother. But the other ... the other clung to her own words, to her choice. She had said yes. There was no turning back.