Game of Queens (47 page)

“Why?” If I knew that, perhaps it would help me win Ahasuerus's love.

“Vashti sees him as the friend of her childhood.” Hegai hesitated, then said, “She sees him as a sister sees a brother. But you, Esther—you see him as a man, a man whose touch your body yearns to receive. Now come, we must prepare you to meet the man your heart burns for.”

It became instantly clear to me that Hegai had chosen what I should wear long before this hour had arrived. He did not even glance around at the waiting robes, but pointed to what looked like a swirl of cloud lying upon my bed.

Kylah lifted up the gown while Hatach slipped the shawl from my body. With his own hands, Hegai draped the chosen garment upon me, spent long minutes assuring himself the cloth was draped and pinned to perfection. He spent longer assuring himself that the only gem I wore lay as it should.

And when he nodded and stepped back, finished, I might have been wearing nothing at all.

My gown had been crafted of cloth sheer as morning mist—a simplicity far more extravagant than decking my body with gold and gems. A chain of ruddy gold hung to my waist; from the chain dangled a black pearl the size of a pigeon's egg. That was all.

Once I would have been ashamed to wear so wanton a garment even alone in my own bedchamber. A year separated me from that learned, pious girl.…

“All the others chose queenly robes, and a royal ransom in jewels.” Hegai studied me; smiled.

“So I shall be a woman going to see the man she desires, and not a candidate seeking a crown. Wise Hegai!”

“My wisdom is useless unless the one I counsel is wise enough to follow my advice.”

“I will do everything as you order it,” I said. I knew Vashti had told Ahasuerus that he should choose me—and I also knew that he might not. If I did not please him, if he did not like my eyes, or my voice … in the end, the king alone would decide if Esther would be queen.

*   *   *

Before I began the journey that would take me to the king's bedchamber, I thanked each of my servants and kissed their cheeks. If the king refused me, I had no future here.

In the main courtyard of the Women's Palace, I did as thirty-nine maidens had done before me: I stopped and looked upon myself in the silver mirror that Vashti had ordered placed beside the gate into the King's Palace. The tapestry that covered it had been pulled aside so that I, this night's choice, might gaze upon myself. Polished until it shone like glass, taller than I by at least a cubit, the mirror displayed my body, from the top of my head down to my henna-rose feet. Never before had I looked upon myself fully, seen myself as others saw me.

It is true. I am beautiful.
I had seen the other girls who battled for the queen's crown; lovely, all of them. I had seen Princesses Tandis and Barsine. I had seen Queen Vashti. And now, at last, I saw Esther.

A tremor ran through me as my image gazed back from the mirror's silver depths. For I knew that if only beauty counted with the king, then I need have no fear that any other girl who waited for him was more beautiful than I.

But is that enough?
If beauty alone drew the king, would his love vanish when time summoned my beauty from me?

Before I could worry myself into tears, Vashti came up to me to wish me good fortune. “Oh, Esther! You are beautiful as Ishtar! You are more beautiful than I. You are more beautiful than stars.”

Her extravagant praise touched me; I held out my hands and she clasped hers around mine. Her hands burned like fire against my cold skin. “Thank you,” I said. “I may never see you again—but I wanted to tell you—”

Vashti squeezed my hands hard. “Don't,” she said. “A crown of stars awaits you. And it will look far more beautiful against your hair than mine.”

That freed laughter. “Oh, Vashti—only you could think of such a thing at such a moment!” I tried to free my hands to embrace her, thank her as a sister, but she backed away.

“Don't, Esther. You'll spoil all the work on your hair and gown and—”

“I don't care.” Reckless urgency flared; my blood beat hot now, not cold.

“You'll care when your paint's smeared and there's no time to re-do all the designs.” Vashti's prosaic, practical tone sounded oddly familiar. Vashti leaned forward and carefully kissed my cheek. “Go with good fortune and your god's favor, Hadassah,” she whispered.

It was only when I had passed through the gate and was walking down the corridor that led to the golden doors that I realized who Vashti had sounded like.

She'd sounded like me.

*   *   *

I lived now in dreamtime, flowing and elusive. Torchlight flared; shadows fled as I passed. I walked forward, steadily, until I stood at last before the entrance to the king's chamber.

Guards barred my path; I waited, and they pulled open the great golden doors. Beyond lay lamplight and darkness.

I walked through the doorway, making myself move without haste. My blood beat so hard that the wild rush of it echoed in my ears. As the doors closed behind me, I bowed, and waited.

“Approach, Esther.” The king's voice, at last.

I don't know why the fact that he knew my name surprised me. Of course he would know. The true surprise was that he chose to use it.

I lifted my head and paced toward him; slow, deliberate strides, like a hunting cat's. When I was an arm's length away from him, I stopped, and bowed again.

“So you are my next queen.” Ahasuerus regarded me almost angrily; a proud, wary lion. I bowed my head.

“Only if the King of Kings wishes it.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Truly? How odd—I have been told by she who was once my queen that I must choose Esther.”

He sought to shock me; I found myself smiling. “I hope Vashti was more tactful than that.”

“You know?” The subtle anger vanished; he regarded me with a kinder interest.

“Yes.” I hoped he liked plain speaking as much as Vashti had assured me he did. “And I told Vashti she should simply tell you. She had a great many very convoluted schemes for my success—”

To my surprise, Ahasuerus laughed. “Oh, I have no doubt she did! Vashti never did have any sense at all.”

“But she was never taught to have any sense, my lord king. It must be learned, like any other skill.” Not the conversation I had dreamt of having with my heart's delight, but I sensed only truth would serve—and I yearned to hear Ahasuerus laugh again.

“And I suppose you have many skills, Esther?” Now he sounded sullen, almost as if he expected a rebuke. Although who would dare rebuke the King of Kings—

Amestris. The Queen Mother; of course. Well, I have no intention of becoming Ahasuerus's mother!

Again I answered plainly, keeping my voice serene. “I do, my lord king.” I then counted my heartbeats, waiting for him to speak first.

“Well, name them.” Ahasuerus sounded both intrigued and impatient.

Poor man. This contest must be hard on him.
Obedient to his command, I began to number my talents, using my fingers as counters.

“I can speak Median, Persian, and Aramaic. I read Persian, Aramaic, Sumerian, and Elamite. I add sums, and call the stars by name. I play the small harp and the flute. Those I do well. I can weave and bake, not so well. I can order a household. I write poems. And I can ride a horse—although I have not done so in many years. That I did best of all.”

“An impressive list. And if I call in my chief scribe and ask you to speak to him in Median?”

“I will do so, my lord king—although it seems a sad waste of what may be our only night together.”

Startled into laughter, Ahasuerus beckoned me closer. I wondered if he even noticed my sandalwood-scented body through the cloud-drift gown, or admired my nightfire hair. “Come,” he said, “sit by me.”

He sat upon the edge of the massive bed, so I sank down to sit by his feet. There I could lean against his thigh, look up into his face. If he objected, he had only to order me away. He did not.

“Vashti says,” he began, then stopped. After a breath, he said, “Does it trouble you, that I speak of—”

“Of Vashti? Why should it trouble me? I love her dearly; she is as a sister to me. A rather sweetly overenthusiastic sister at times, I grant. But a sister nonetheless.”

“Vashti tells me I should choose you as my next queen.”

As your wife. Choose me as your wife, my love.

“She tells me also that you love me. It is easy to love the king. Every maiden who has come to this chamber has loved the king.”

I looked up into his earth-brown eyes and thought that every other maiden had been a fool.
I wish you were not the king, Ahasuerus. I wish—I wish you were a horse-farmer in the Vale of Karoun.
But I said only,

“We all love the king, my lord. I love the king most dutifully.”

I saw understanding spark in his eyes. He doubted; wished to believe, yet feared lest what I promised prove false.

Ahasuerus reached down and put two fingers under my chin, tilted my head back. Coals of fire scorched my skin where he touched me.

“And do you think I believe this tale that you looked upon me and loved me at once with all your heart?”

“I think you are King of Kings, and so must be very tired of being told—oh so subtly—what you must do, or not do. I think you are weary of being manipulated. So I told Vashti to tell you the truth. I will always tell you the truth.”

“Always?” he said.

“Yes.”

“The truth then—what would you do if I said to you now, ‘Esther, I do not choose you. You are free. Go and do whatsoever you wish.'”

If he did not choose me, if he ordered me to go.
To be free—

“I have a farm,” I said. “A horse farm in the Vale of Karoun. I would go there and raise horses, as my father did.”

“A horse farm?” This seemed to intrigue him. “Why then are you here, in Shushan?”

I sighed, and dared press my cheek against his thigh. When he neither shifted away nor ordered me back, I allowed myself to savor the warmth of his skin beneath the heavy fluid silk he wore. “I am here in Shushan because my father died, and my cousin, who is my guardian, thought horse-farming not a suitable occupation for a woman. Nothing,” I added, “is a suitable occupation for a woman, save to marry and bear children.”

“Is that what you truly wish, then? Shall I let you go?”

I hesitated, and he said, “You promised me the truth, Esther.”

“No,” I said. I could barely hear my own voice. “Do not let me go. I loved you as soon as I saw you. If you deny me, it will rip the heart from my breast.”

He looked at me with those night-dark eyes; slowly, he leaned down toward me.
Oh, yes,
I thought.
Yes.
And I swayed upward, drawn to him by his eyes—and his hands, firm and gentle on my arms.

My lips touched his. And then I stopped thinking about anything at all.

VASHTI

The moment Ahasuerus walked into my garden the morning after Esther's night, I knew my plan had succeeded far beyond my hopeful dreams. His heart, as well as his mind, had chosen Esther. He looked—different. I tried to see what had changed. His eyes, his smile? The way he moved?

I bowed as he came toward me.

“Rise, Vashti.” He took my hands as I rose and gazed into his eyes. Happiness, bright and clear. “I came to tell you—”

“That you have chosen wisely?” I teased, testing his mood.

He laughed. “That
you
have chosen wisely. As has Hegai. And Esther—” He stopped, clearly unsure what he should say now.

I knew he feared to wound my heart, but he could do that only if he no longer had any fondness for me. For that was what we had, Ahasuerus and I: the fond love of a brother and sister who were dear to one another. But that was all.

“Esther loved you the moment she set her eyes upon you,” I said. “And you? Tell me what you thought when you first looked upon her.”

When I asked that, he seemed to glow radiant as the sun. “It was not when I looked upon her, Vashti—although she is very beautiful. Like a dark flame. It was when she spoke. She is wise, and kind, and clever. Do you know her father raised horses?”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing. “Yes, Ahasuerus, I know that. Come, sit with me and tell me all about it.” I had heard Esther's shy, joyful tale of her night with the king, and now it was the king's turn to unveil the story to me.

So we sat upon the alabaster bench in my garden, warmed by the pale clear sun, surrounded by the scent of lilacs, and Ahasuerus eagerly told over the story of his night with Esther. Fortunately, I already had the story of that night of nights from Esther herself, for Ahasuerus revealed very little, save that his heart and Esther's beat as one, and that no woman in all the wide world compared with Esther for wisdom and warmth.

“And she agreed to be my wife,” Ahasuerus finished, marveling at so great a wonder.

He looked so happy my heart ached; a wistful longing for what he and I never had known together. Smiling, I took his hands and kissed them. “Oh, my lion-hearted brother, I am so happy for you and for her. When is the wedding to take place?”

“This very hour, if that were possible. As it is, it will be as soon as my mother can arrange the ceremony.”

I longed to order the wedding myself, but held my tongue. To arrange his wedding ceremonies truly was his mother's duty and right.

“I have a boon to ask of you, Vashti.”

“Anything, of course.”

Ahasuerus put his hands on my shoulders and kissed my forehead. “No man could ask for a better, dearer sister! You are the first I have told, no one yet knows save Esther, and me.”

I do not know how I kept from laughing. All anyone need do was look at him to know that last night had changed his heart and his life. And Esther had told only me, and Hegai, but she glowed like sunlight on the mountains. I think every person in the Women's Palace and the Queen's Palace knew by now that the queen's crown would rest on Esther's head.