"Don't go!
She shrilled her voice, barely above a whisper.
Then came the hurried sound of her footsteps against the floor, quick and uneven, each one filled with something that felt dangerously close to desperation.
He turned slowly, and there she was crossing the space between them, her expression no longer calm or composed.
All the walls she had built around herself seemed to waver under the trembling urgency in her eyes.
"Stay with me," she said, her voice trembling despite her effort to sound calm.
"Just… for tonight.
"I've had a long day," he said quietly. "I need some rest."
But she didn't give up.
"I know," she whispered, stepping closer.
"You must be tired. Come—sit for a while. I'll give you a head massage."
"I will have Marymanda do that—it's her job," he said firmly.
"But I insist," she replied, a faint tremor running through her voice.
"And I said no!"
His voice rang out, sharp and sudden. She flinched, blinking rapidly before pressing her lips together.
He saw the fear flicker in her eyes, and regret washed over him instantly.
He didn't mean to raise his voice, but he was tired of pretending that everything was fine.
She turned away, her shoulders stiff, and he just stood there, watching her in silence.
"I'll be embarking on a journey tomorrow," he said quietly.
"It will only be for a few days."
He waited, hoping for some reaction—anything—but she said nothing.
Instead, she eased herself onto the bed, her movements slow and drained. Her eyes grew distant, fixed on nothing, as though his words had carried her somewhere far away.
The silence was deafening. Unable to bear it any longer, he turned to leave.
Berth exhaled, her next words coming out in a whisper.
"I'm ready to consummate our wedding."
He froze on the spot, allowing her words to fully register in his brain.
The words seemed to hang in the air—fragile, almost unreal.
Slowly, he turned, his gaze resting on her.
She sat there, still and composed, though he could see the faint tremor in her hands.
The air between them grew heavy, charged with unspoken thoughts.
"Do you… know what you're saying?" He asked at last, his voice barely above a whisper.
Her eyes met his—steady and resolute.
"You heard me loud and clear," she said, rising to her feet.
Without breaking eye contact, she began to walk toward him, each step deliberate, steady—almost defiant.
When she got to where he stood, her gaze dropped instantly to the floor, unable to meet his eyes.
Dickson felt nothing, no rush of triumph, no affection, not even surprise. Only a kind of stunned disbelief, as though his ears had played a cruel trick.
Then his brows furrowed slightly.
"Why the sudden change of mind?" he asked, his tone calm but distant.
He studied her, his gaze tracing her face.
There was something different in her tonight: the faint tremor in her hands, the glint of determination laced with fear.
"It is only right that we consummate our wedding," she said quietly, forcing the words out.
He scoffed. His voice was low and bitter.
"You didn't see it that way," he said, his eyes hardening as old memories rose to the surface, "when you threatened to stab me with a knife on our wedding night if I were to so much as lay a hand on you."
The words struck her like a slap.
Her lips parted, but no words came at first.
Only a rush of guilt, hot and suffocating, flooded through her. Her fingers tightened around the folds of her gown.
"I was afraid," she said finally, her voice barely a whisper. "Everything happened so fast. I was…"
She stopped herself.
He watched her quietly, emotionless.
"I never meant to…" she began again, her voice softer, almost breaking. "I was just… scared."
For the first time that night, her composure faltered completely, the mask slipping to reveal not the proud, graceful woman everyone saw, but someone fragile.
"Scared of what exactly?" he demanded, his voice low but edged with restrained fury.
"Do you see me as some kind of monster?"
He was trying to hold himself together; this woman …his wife… had done nothing but torment him since the day they were bound together.
"When you put it that way, you make it sound as though it's my fault," she shot back.
"It's not my fault either!" he snapped.
"I didn't want this marriage any more than you did. But I had a duty—to the king."
She took a step forward, her eyes flashing with unshed tears.
"And you also have a duty to me, as your wife!"
Her voice cracked on the word wife.
"You also had a duty to me as your husband that night, Berth, but you failed…miserably."
His eyes were bloodshot as he said those words to her face. Berth bit her lips, forcing the tears clouding her eyes back; she finally raised her gaze to look at him.
"I am being called names," she continued, her voice trembling, "tagged barren… Do you know what that feels like?
You knew this! You heard the whispers and the mockery of the whole neighborhood thinks I am not capable of giving you a child. You were very much aware...and yet, you said nothing.
Does it not bother you that people think your wife cannot bear a child?"
Her chest rose and fell heavily.
He was taken aback by her words. For a moment, he only stared at her, as though trying to make sense of what he'd just heard.
Who called you that?…Barren…who said that to you Berth?"
He asked inching closer, she instinctively took a step backward.
"It doesn't matter who said it…."
"So this is what all this is about?" he asked interrupting, his voice low and heavy with disbelief.
"You care so much about what people say… That's why you're suddenly ready to let me touch you?"
There was no anger in his tone this time, only pain and disgust seeping through every word.
Berth froze. The weight of his words struck her like a blow, and she turned away, unable to face him.
Her throat tightened as guilt washed over her. She hadn't meant it that way—not entirely—but how could she explain what she herself didn't fully understand?
He let out a bitter laugh—quiet, humorless.
"So it's a pity, then? Or shame?"
She shook her head, still refusing to look at him.
Why didn't you tell me? I would have understood."
"I only hid this from you because I wanted to protect you."
He said with gritting his teeth trying to maintain his cool.
"Is that why Marymanda won't let me step out of this house?"
She asked her eyes searching for the truth by the look on his face, and she found it.
"Do you plan on keeping me locked in here all my life?!
She screamed, craving to hear what he had to say.
"It is for your own good."
He answered calmly, not breaking his eyes from hers. Berth felt a string in her heart pull….pain, that was all she could feel.
"I do not need your protection."
She said her eyes drained of every bit of emotions, lifeless.
"I just need your loyalty."
She added.
"You were given to me as a wife, so that I can protect you. I do not care if that's what you want or not, it is my sole responsibility, and I will fulfill it."
"Fine!
She shrilled, throwing her hand in the air.
"But why you are at it, you will save me from shame!
She concluded, heaving breathlessly , and he began to shake his head from side to side in bitterness.
"Go to bed."
He finally says then turns to leave.
"It is always the woman that feels the shame."
She began screaming from behind him and he halted.
"Those women will not say a thing to your face, they worship you, they see you as some type of demigod. A duke…highly respected!
But as for me, I will have to learn to endure the mockery; I won't be able to show my face to anyone, not until I bear your child!"
Her voice broke at the end, fragile and sincere, her legs became weak… she crumbled to the floor falling on her knees as she weeped bitterly.
He watched her in silence, his chest rising slowly with restrained emotion. For a moment, the anger in his eyes softened… just a little.
He finally broke her.
That perfect woman with a fake smile, always ready to hide her emotions was weeping right in front of him.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes at the same time.
Tears were already streaming down her face, and she was sniffing uncontrollably.
Grabbing her hand gently, he steadily made her rise to her feet, then led her to the bed, and Berth trailed beside him effortlessly.
He made her sit on the bed, then began to turn off most of the lamps in the room.
Then he finally made his way to her.
He sat next to her…
"Look at me."
He said, his deep, enchanting voice making her heart tingle.
She raised her gaze, unshed tears glistening in her eyes.
"I do not wish to hurt you, or to put you in an uncomfortable position. I want you to do this when you are ready, not because of what people say."
She heard him say, but her mind had already been made up. She focused her gaze on him, and without saying a word.
She drew closer to him, then pressed her lips against his in a deep kiss. He didn't see it coming and was startled.
She pressed herself against him, wrapping his hands around her waist. Dickson didn't need any more invitation; he began to work his way through her gown as he pushed her into the bed.
He stripped her of her clothes and then also undressed himself. They now gaze at their nakedness, unashamed, completely immersed in lust.
He gazed at Berth, waiting for her to say something, but she didn't; she was indeed ready. He took her in his hands, their bodies pressing against each other in the heat of the moment… And that was it.
In a split moment sexual sound vibrated in the room, their throats tearing out loud moans, as they body slapped against one another, interlocked, sweat glistening on their bodies.
They made passionate love to each other until the last candle in the room burned out.