After various attempts of rebellion fortunately hindered by Julian, Freya found out the culprit of the arson. The circumstances were heart-breaking, though, and Freya prayed endless times that she would not murder someone.

Resuming her classes much later than it was initially stated, it took a few days of persuasion to convince a boy, Karl, to submit his essay.

"Why do you refrain yourself from giving me your assignment?" Freya inquired, eyeing him warily.

Karl lowered his gaze, focusing on anything but his teacher's face. Every other pupil stayed silent; not because they feared Freya - she was too much of an angel - but due to the tears that were soon staining the boy's cheeks. After minutes of sobs and sniffles, he confessed a soul-throbbing story that weakened Freya's knees.

"I-I- I am not worthy of your verifying my essay. I am the arsonist, I took my father's lighter and burned the class down." His voice was stuttering, but he still held some dignity - that of a person, no longer a little boy, who admitted a truth that tore him apart.

If the class was already silent by the time of his confession, now it resembled a grave bearing no sound at all. Freya placed a hand over her opened mouth and approached him motherly.

"Darling, why would you do such a thing?"

Karl's scrutiny revealed a grief that she would have never imagined in a boy of his age. The orbs of his grass-coloured eyes were pools of sorrow, discontent and silent riot. The words that escaped his mouth were as emotionless as a rock.

"I was tired of my father's constant criticism and the towering effect of his insults. I did a reckless thing, but it somehow felt right, because it acted like a testament of my refusal to surrender to his impossible demands."

Freya quirked her eyebrows. Karl hardly paid attention to vocabulary lessons, and yet his revealing was highly academic.

"You burned the classroom down as a rebellion against your father? Do you really believe that he would be proud now? Do you really think that your action will gain his respect? Darling, all you needed to do was talk to me and I would have gladly helped you." Freya uttered, her voice oscillating between harsh and soft.

"I truly am sorry, miss. Truly." Karl apologized, tasting the saltiness of his tears.

"Let me deal with the principal and your father. Everything is going to be alright."

The boy shook his head brutally. "There is no such thing as a happy ending for me."

A blonde girl standing behind him placed her hand on his shoulder. "We will all be there for you, Karl. You are a good friend and we understand you. We would have done the same if it wasn't for our cowardice."

"Chloe..." Freya's words drifted, a warning visible in the tone of her voice. "Do not act like a moral accomplice. I will let your statement pass this time, alright?"

Chloe nodded, a rosy taint colouring her cheeks. Freya could not take it much longer. Being the last period, she let the other pupils leave earlier, and asked Karl to wait for her outside the classroom.

Not even the renowned Vesuvius would have matched her rage. She was not even sure of the source of her wrath. Was it Karl's father, the boy himself, the educational system? Who is the moral culprit, for bloody sake? She slammed her fists against the wooden table and dug her nails into her palm, focusing on the physical pain. If Julian found out, he would surely act upon the situation, and the boy would never learn the right lesson. She had to be on her own.

By the time Freya entered the principal's office, with Karl's hand entwined in hers, her heart hammered relentlessly, and her palms became sweaty. She cleared her throat, capturing the principal's attention, who was indifferently reading a file.

"Yes, miss Carson?"

"Could you call Karl's father, please? There is an issue that I would preferably deal with right now." Her voice was sweeter than honey, but perilous as a serpent's tongue.

"This must be your lucky day, for I have already called his father."

Freya's mouth turned slightly agape. How could he know? Noticing the furrow of the young lady's eyebrows, the principle clarified, his voice as monotonous as always.

"It is about funding, not his son. But you seem... disturbed. And judging by the look on Karl's face, this boy must be in trouble. Is he connected to the arson?"

Why would he conclude that? It was true, nevertheless, but Freya would have never imagined that dull man to be shrewd. She was even more afraid than Karl, a feeling highly inappropriate, considering that her poise was mandatory.

"Let's wait for Karl's father." Freya simply stated, squeezing the boy's hand reassuringly.

The principal nodded and resumed his activity – whatever that might have been. Taking a few thorough breaths, Freya continued soothing Karl, until his father arrived. It was then when Freya noticed the profuse sweating of her palms.

"Good evening, sir." The principal and Freya said in unison, glancing at the pantagruelic man holding an unlit cigar.

"Apparently she wants to discuss something involving your son."

The man's scrutiny could have melted the entire Everest. It was not the kind of meltdown Freya felt when kissing Julian – it was more of a hell's fire, or the open gates of doom. Freya then realized that confessing Karl's action would have dug the poor boy's grave. And he was much too young for such a figurative speech.

Freya cleared her throat – a way too frequent gesture – and offered the man a whole new information, which was true nonetheless.

"I would like to extend my appreciation of Karl's literary talent. Your son is a tremendous and vibrant presence in my class, and therefore I am willing to tutor him more, if you allow me."

The man quirked his eyebrows menacingly, as if Freya said something hilarious or, more likely, bloody ridiculous.

"Your compliments regarding my son are welcomed, but I have no wish of pursuing a tutoring session. Not that I deny your teaching abilities, but my son will not become a writer – he is to be my company's CEO when he grows up."

A fly would have been perfectly able to enter Freya's mouth, if it wasn't for the slightly quivering hand that was covering her lips. How could that man ignore his son's talent? What is wrong with contemporary parents?! Freya was expectedly fuming with anger and repulsion.

"With all due respect, sir, Karl has an outstanding potential, and it would be such a pity to dismiss it!" The teacher's voice was now high-pitched, belonging to a hyena obviously intending to attack its prey.

"If Karl's father disagrees with your proposal, than let it be. Ms. Carson, if your statement came to an end, I would advise you to return to the... Duchy." The last word felt bitter in the principal's mouth, for the green eyed monster was devouring his insides.

Freya nodded, gritting her teeth and praying to the Almighty God that she does not make use of the envelope knife placed teasingly on the office table.

She lowered herself to Karl's level and whispered. "I am going to take care of this, don't you worry! Until I decide the best solution, you are to remain silent. Understood?"

Karl nodded, humming a thank you under his breath. Freya released the breath she had been holding for too long and left the principal's office, bearing a heart as small as a crumpled paper.

How am I supposed to tell Julian about this and still expect mercy from him? She asked herself as she drove back to the Duchy, careless of the natural surroundings that once mesmerized her.

Reaching her establishment – she still feared calling the Duchy her home - she was greeted by John, who seemed to have the sixth sense when it came to welcoming her or Julian. A feeble smile painted Freya's lips, but it did not last for long, because she remembered Julian's perilous state after she had returned from John's family. I do not want to see that devilish face ever again! What if he would react the same? She kept questioning as she made feathery steps towards Julian's office. She was silently hoping that he was in a meeting, but the odds were not in her favour, for Julian was reading a file at his desk, as self-controlled as usual.

"Good evening, milord!"

Julian raised his gaze and his eyes travelled down her body, appreciating the choice of attire – a pencil skirt that clung sexily onto her curves, and a tight blouse that complimented her bosoms. Lord, give me strength! He inwardly prayed, extending his hand to invite her in.

"You are not calling me Julian anymore?" He asked, a ghost of a smile curling his lips.

"Not when there are important issues to discuss." Freya answered in a strenuous voice.

Julian felt confused, but incited as well, therefore he demanded satisfying answers. After Freya finished explaining the current situation, Julian was – just like his wife guessed – on the verge of becoming a murderer.

"You were supposed to call me the second you found out! This can be interpreted as obstruction, for there is an ongoing investigation that you purposely hindered! What the fuck were you thinking about?"

That was the first time Freya has ever heard him curse, and it brought shivers down her spine, as she hinted the loss of his self-control – a feared one, may she add. Please, God, let me tame him!

"You should have seen his father! He would have abused him, I am sure of it!" She responded just as angrily, pointing towards Julian.

"And who are you, a psychic?! Did you grow a third eye to presume such a thing? Have you any idea how this may affect our image? You are not a peasant anymore, you are a Duchess and I swear to God, the next time you ever make decisions without my approval, you will be sent to the dungeons!"

Julian's breath came in pants, as he resembled a dragon spitting fire. Freya feared that his jaw would break under the pressure of his gritting teeth. He smashed a vase on his desk, spreading the flowers onto the floor, the hems of his shirt soaked in water.

He growled, the veins on his neck pumping unsafely. "I will see how this can be fixed, but for your sake, you'd better leave the office. Now!"

Freya flinched, bowing her head as she took a few steps back. Turning on her heels, she left the room, the vibrations of Julian's truculent voice still resonating in her ears. My sense of justice is going to be written on my gravestone. What am I supposed to do if I cannot help it? She asked herself, still debating on whether she should wait patiently or enter his office one more time. Fortunately, she chose the first thought and retreated to the garden, breathing in the alluring scent of lilies and jasmines.

For the past month, Julian oscillated between wrath and self-control, as if he were trying to tame a monster hiding inside him. Freya was aware of any person's duality – the good and the evil living together and fighting for dominance – but her husband's gestures were opposite poles of the same magnet. I do not think I am ever going to change him, or live a steady existence.

She looked up and saw the colours of the sky darkening until the empress of the night appeared, towering over her like a witness to that dreadful day. Soon after the moon's appearance, Freya heard steps and immediately stood up – a reflex she has built over the years.

At first, she could not loom anyone, but the dim light eventually unearthed Julian's features, as they approached her. He was calmer than before, but still tensed.

"I talked to the police officer and he agreed not to disclose any of your involvement. You should consider yourself extremely lucky. I also talked to the principal, and Karl's father, who seemed more than pleased to meet me. I might have uttered a threat, but you need not worry."

Julian's voice was emotionless – a silent sea right before the storm. Freya's concern regarding Karl was dismissed, but her stomach was still turned into knots. Despite estranging herself from Julian – a quite involuntary action – she appreciated his diplomacy and the efficient way of dealing with the issue.

Freya heaved in surrender to fatigue. Apparently exhaustion unearthed more feelings than her animated self. "I am truly sorry, Julian." She apologized, gazing at the roots of an imposing tree.

The Duke furrowed his eyebrows – as frequently as Freya did – and extended his arm as he motioned his wife to come closer. She submitted to his desire and closed the gap between them, her scrutiny still unable to shift upwards. Unfortunately for Freya's sensitive skin, Julian put his finger under her chin and calmly brought her gaze to his own, earning a light shudder from her.

He was furious and alarmed, but also proud of Freya, whose ambition to pursue her principles always weakened his knees. He had never encountered such a vigour of spirit, and regardless of any dissensions, he valued that woman more than his own self would acknowledge.

"It is funny how my emotions have become polar opposites. One minute I feel like throwing you off a cliff, and the next I want to wrap my arms around you and never let you go."

"So do I, except I would rather throw you off mount Everest itself." Freya uttered, grinning sheepishly.

Julian chuckled in response, his broad chest rising as the sound of his laugh penetrated the nocturnal garden.

Freya eyed his muscles hungrily, thinking that she had been subtle, but as her gaze met his, she realized he had been watching her check-up with the same lust-filled intensity.

Neither of them broke their scrutiny, and neither of them moved. They seemed to have succumbed into a trance – an oneiric state that eclipsed their own willpower, making them still as they gulped in anticipation. Julian would have acted upon his desire the moment he caught her gaze, but he awaited her approval – not because she was a fragile porcelain doll, but he wanted no restraint to intervene into the forthcoming bliss.

She slightly nodded, the subtle movement of her head crushing down his self-control. He smashed his lips against her, tasting the sweetness of her mouth. Just like the first kiss, he possessed and devoured like he owned her lips, like he was the only one allowed to tease them. He sucked against the succulent flesh of her lower lip, pleased to witness her reverberating moan.

He took a step forward until her back hit the rugged crust of the tree. She would have felt pain as she made contact with the corrugated surface, if it wasn't for the arousal that kept her focused on Julian. She somehow found courage – it may just have been the effect of adrenaline rushing through her veins – and slid her hands under his shirt, touching every muscle available from that position. Nevertheless, she whimpered as she struggled to unbutton his shirt, but Julian gladly finished her attempt, literally ripping off the cotton material.

She was then free to explore every inch of his skin – the delightful waves of his pectorals, the herculean creases of his six-pack, the V line of his torso, teasingly displayed to her starving hands. She felt animated – an emotion never quite attained before – and was silently begging for more. It was not a teenager kind of lust, but a need of belonging, of finding the home she had been missing. Indeed, his arms provided her that yearned comfort, and she refused to question that moment, regardless of the tiny nagging feeling that would not disappear.

During her Columbus exploration, he had not wasted any time. His palms complimented her hips, bringing her longing body even closer. He unclasped her bra, silently thanking her for choosing unhindering clothes, and brushed his finger against the tip of her bosom, earning a responsive shudder from her. Growling, he pursued his fascination of her plump, yet luscious body, as he lowered his head and caressed her nipple with his tongue. Her fingers instinctively tangled in his hair, her head tilting as he put even more pressure to her rose bud.

Even lightning itself could not have given birth to such electricity – a plundering feeling of beauty and appreciation that she had never met before. She felt beautiful in his embrace, under his burning touch that made her lungs cry for oxygen, as she actually believed ecstasy was then her blood.

Julian, however, felt even more animated, as he relished at the sight of her moaning body surrendering to his palms, his lips, his everything. Freya could not have fitted better elsewhere, she was perfect right there, right then, caressed, explored, and delighted. He would have pursued her spring of femininity, but he would never go that far, especially with a woman he respected so much. He wanted to stop, he truly did, but his reasoning was completely demolished, ruled by a passion he had never imagined to possess. He slid her skirt up until it reached the two rounded apples of her buttocks and stroked the flesh of her inner thigh, eventually reaching the elastic of her panties. He could feel her moist inviting him to continue, but he ceased the throbbing intention of tasting her and retreated his hands, taking a few steps back.

Freya noticed the absence of his touch in bewilderment, blinking a few times before focusing on Julian's panting face. He had a hard time breathing. He pressed two fingers on the pulsating vein of his neck and inhaled deeply, his arousal still clearly visible.

"Let's... not... take this... matter... any further." He asked, more like begged, his voice frantic and laced with discontent at his lack of self-control.

"Matter?" Freya asked, arranging her outfit and picking up her bra. "Drop this academic talking and tell me, tell me what this truly was. I want you to say it out loud."

She was aware that her husband would never admit that he acted upon his emotions, rather than his judgment. He was a rational man, and any trace of feelings was like a dagger to his chest – completely unacceptable.

Julian cleared his throat and buttoned his shirt, fixing his belt in an attempt to calm down the bulge in his pants. "It was a mistake, obviously."

During the short amount of time spent with him, she strengthened herself to the point where such an answer left her quite unimpressed. If she were to tear his walls apart, she could not be influenced by any bruise of her ego – no matter how stinging it was.

She took two steps forward, expecting Julian to do the same, only backwards. Nevertheless, his position remained neutral, as if launching a dare to her. She pointed a finger towards him and uttered.

"You call this a mistake? I call it a reinforcement of our bond. Try the same answer in a few days, and you'll notice you won't be able to tell it anymore."

"Why is that?"

"Because you will be thinking about me constantly, even more than you have already done, and you will be contemplating the fantasy of taking the matter further." She explained, insisting on the word "matter" as the modulation of her voice increased.

Julian brushed off her statement with a laugh, dismissing it with a wave of his hand – the one exploring her body just a few minutes ago.

"You must be delusional if you think that a moment of wildness could affect me that much. You, however, are going to react even more profoundly than you supposed I would."

"Is that a bet?"