Chapter 16

The air was heavy, still damp from the rain.

It had been a long day for Nakht. Everywhere he went, people told him that Merit had just left, or that she would return later. He understood—she was avoiding him.

After a while, doubt began to bite. What if I’d imagined it all?

No. The morning came back to him vividly: her body sprawled across his, her arms wrapped around his chest, her cheek resting against his skin. Just the thought of it made him grin like a fool, his stomach tight and his cock stirring, that strange blend of tenderness and raw desire twisting deep inside him. It hadn’t been a dream. It had happened. So why avoid him all day?

The afternoon dragged on endlessly. The priests spoke, and he nodded without listening. All he wanted was to see her again.

After dinner—taken alone—Merit finally entered their room. Her veil was still damp, a few scrolls tucked under her arm.

“Where have you been?” he asked at once.

She set the scrolls beside a vase and replied simply, “With the scribes and the stewards. I reviewed the granaries, the needs of the outskirts, and requested records of the flood levels.”

He looked at her, surprised she had done all that without him.

“Why didn’t you call for me?”

She hesitated briefly, then said, “I wanted ... to be alone.”

Nakht tried to shrug it off, to pretend it didn’t sting. His hand went for an empty cup, then set it back down. His mouth attempted a smile that went nowhere.

“I see,” he said quietly.

Silence settled between them. Outside, water still trickled in the courtyard.

He kept his eyes on the table, hiding the blow it had dealt him. He thought of the morning—her warmth against him—and everything tangled: the joy of remembering, the shame of being moved by so little, the fear that she regretted it.

Merit watched him. She saw what he was trying to hide: the throat that swallowed too hard, the fingers tightening for no reason, the small crease near his mouth—the same as when he was a child holding back tears.

She took a step closer, her tone softer.

“It’s not about you. I just needed to think, that’s all.”

He nodded.

“All right.”

He didn’t lift his eyes right away. When he finally did, sadness flickered there—brief but unmistakable.

Merit noticed it and said nothing for a moment.

Then she lay down on the wooden bed beside him. Their bodies didn’t touch, but the distance was so thin he could already feel the heat of her skin beneath the linen. The fabric barely whispered between them.

He didn’t know what to do. That very morning, she had been the one to seek him out—to challenge him under the rain with that burning look that had set his chest aflame. Now she seemed calm, almost shy. Her slow movements, her measured breath, everything about her contradicted the woman of that morning. He was afraid to misread her, afraid to ruin the fragile peace between them.

He dared a glance. Her profile caught the tremulous light: the soft parting of her lips, the damp lashes, the delicate curve of her neck. His stomach tightened; his cock, which had never really gone soft since the night before, stirred again.

Merit felt his gaze and turned her head away. She pulled the sheet up to her lips, hiding for a moment, then let out a nervous laugh.

“This is stupid...” she murmured. “I still feel ashamed. Even after all that...”

Nakht smiled awkwardly.

“You avoided me all day.”

She nodded, still half-hidden.

“Yes.” Her voice was soft, almost childlike. “I didn’t know how to look at you. Or how to talk about what we did ... about...”

He dropped his gaze, heart tight, fingers fidgeting with the edge of the sheet as if to hide his nerves. He wanted to answer, but no words seemed right.