Chapter 46: The Two Masters
That night came rushing back to him, vivid as if it had happened only yesterday. The cold stone walls of the prison cell, the flickering torchlight casting trembling shadows, the heavy weight of his impending death pressing down on his chest.
He had lost everything—his honor, his family, his future. And then, Naomi appeared.
She came to him like a dream, her presence both a balm and a blade. He could see the anguish in her eyes, the silent war waging in her heart. Then, with a trembling voice, she spoke words that shattered his already broken resolve.
"Jethru, I love you. In this lifetime, it will only ever be you."
At first, he refused. He was a condemned man, a criminal branded with shame. What kind of future could he offer her? How could he allow the woman he loved to taint herself with his disgrace?
But Naomi was relentless. She had bribed the guards for privacy, for time—precious, fleeting time.
She took his hand and, with quiet conviction, whispered a vow as solemn as any spoken before an altar. "From this moment, in this life and the next, I call you husband."
It sounded like a wedding vow.
And then, in that dark and musty cell, where despair clung to the walls like damp rot, she gave herself to him.
Their union was filled with grief, desperation, and love so fierce it burned. For those few stolen hours, there were only the two of them. Nothing else.
Before she left, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, he made her promise—she would not come on the day of his execution.