Jewel of Persia (9 page)

He doubted it was so simple but saw no reason to press. “When we return triumphant, then. Ah, there are your uncle and Haman.”

The two men drew near, looking merry. When they stopped beside Darius, Haman gave Xerxes a courteous bow. “Mardonius said the king wishes to speak to me. You saw your Jewess again last night, did you not?”

Xerxes folded his arms across his chest. “Yes, though she was unaware of the ‘again’ until I entered the room. Why did you not inform her I was the one she met before?”

“She did not recognize her own king?” Haman snorted. “I assumed she knew.”

“Or wanted her to be in as much discomfort as possible? My friend, your distaste for her people is too consuming.”

Haman looked none too concerned at the rebuke. “They are a race of slaves.”

“As is your own. How grateful you should be, then, that your king is one who grants grace to the peoples he conquers. Hmm?”

“I am most grateful, master. It is the Jews who refuse to acknowledge your power and might.”

Masistes laughed and slapped a hand to Haman’s shoulder. “You will never convince him, my lord. And I must say, I too wonder how she could not recognize you.”

“I daresay she did not expect the king to be riding with only one attendant—she would not have seen my eunuchs. And since Haman did not make it clear and Hegai had assumed it was
you
Haman rode with . . .”

Haman attempted to fight back a grin. He failed. “Fascinating. Masistes, your brother’s new wife thought herself in love with
you
and yet forced to marry another.”

Darius shook his head. “What a terrible week she must have spent.”

Haman rolled his eyes. “It serves the girl right for her shameless conduct.”

“Shameless? She is shameless for trying to talk her way out of a situation she considered dangerous?” A familiar heat thrummed to life in Xerxes’ chest, pushing him to his feet. “Whatever your opinion of her and her people, Haman, you will do well to remember that she is now my wife.”

One thing must be said for Haman—he always knew when to back away before Xerxes’ temper could flare too hot. “Of course, master. I am glad you have found some entertainment with the girl.”

Masistes took a step away. “Well, I am intrigued. I say we visit the women, flatter the queen, and get a glimpse of my brother’s newest paramour. What say you, my lord?”

Xerxes grinned and fell in beside his brother. “The queen could use some flattering. Let us go.”

He had not paid a visit to the women’s palace in several weeks, but he was not surprised to find the gardens flourishing, the adornments shining. The younger of his children ran about, darting this way and that, though the older ones were at their studies. He kept a close eye on all his sons’ progress—some of them would be generals, other satraps, governors. All must learn to bear the burden of responsibility.

His gaze raked over the women that were out of their rooms. A few sat at looms, others stitched, some fastened gold decorations onto their clothing. Still more, Amestris among them, merely sat. Usually she made it a point to outdo the others and produce the loveliest garments for him, herself, and their four children. But she was not exactly a young woman anymore . . . perhaps carrying this child was harder on her than he knew, especially with the added stress of this week’s feast. He ought to arrange for a special gift for her. If he were lucky, it would deflect her irritation over “the wench young enough to be his daughter.”

Kasia he saw nowhere. It took a moment for the expectant spike in his pulse to smooth back down to normal.

After pausing to greet each child and its mother he finally reached Amestris and gave her a smile. “There you are, my queen. The child in your womb must be blessed indeed, for you are lovelier today than ever.”

Amestris turned her eyes up. They were a perfect almond shape, the color of a round of amber. But the only spark to light them these days was of irritation. Her temperament had worsened when she became queen. It seemed power fed her discontent.

Her smile, if insincere, was nonetheless stunning. “How kind of you to visit me. Unless it was another of your wives you came to see?”

Yes, there was that spark that could so quickly be fanned into a dangerous hatred. Xerxes grinned into it. “Naturally I must pay my respects to the group, but seeking you was my primary goal. Is it not so, Darius?”

His son smiled guilelessly. “The moment I told him you were not feeling well this morning, he hastened to see you.”

She looked far from appeased. “The others are muttering about this Jewess. Why must the king shame us by adding a slave to our numbers? One the very age of his esteemed daughter?”

It was all he could do not to roll his eyes. His brides were always within a certain age group. Could he help that his eldest daughter was now of marrying age as well? “I assure you, Amestris, all I do is out of concern for you. Have you not made it clear I am to find my entertainment elsewhere when you are with child?” Or with a mild ache in her head. Or a sore toe. Or in a sour temper. Or sometimes, he suspected, if her hair would not lie just so. Between all her complaints, she would not receive him three hundred sixty of the three hundred sixty-five days a year.

Amestris settled her arms over the protruding round of her stomach and scowled. “Is she pretty?”

“Pretty enough. Not so beautiful as you.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

The tension around her mouth softened. “I am ready to deliver this babe and present you with another son, that is all. This new girl—is she a full wife or a concubine?”

“Uh . . .” He straightened and glanced to Haman.

Haman arched a brow. “Her father had no money for a dowry, master, so she received the lesser contract.”

Amestris’s lips turned up. “Very well. Enjoy her while she holds your attention. And see that she is cautioned to stay out of my way. I am in no mood for the airs of an upstart concubine who knows not her place.”

“Of course.” He stepped back, giving the others a chance to smother her with flattery. His eyes tracked over the courtyard again.

Hegai stood in the corner—if anyone knew where Kasia would be, it was the custodian. He moved toward him.

Hegai bent low in greeting. “My king. We are honored to welcome you this morning.”

“Certainly. I was very pleased with Kasia. You did well with her.”

The servant smiled, his eyes bright. “Thank you, master. The young lady was very open to my advice, so I took pleasure in sharing your preferences. She is a lovely girl. A disposition unlike any of your other wives.”

“Indeed. Is she settling in well?”

Hegai’s smile curled into a grin. “You may want to see for yourself. She is in the back garden.”

Since his companions said their farewells to the queen, he motioned them to join him. “We will do that. She selected her room?”

“Yes, master.” Humor laced his tone.

Xerxes lifted a brow. “Let me guess—the smallest, barest one she could find.”

Hegai chuckled. “You know her well for so short an acquaintance.”

Darius, Masistes, and Haman drew near, so Xerxes only nodded and led the way down the hall that would open into the rear gardens. He stopped them just inside the door.

Amidst the trumpeting blooms and trees stretching toward heaven, a gaggle of tots sat entranced around a cross-legged Kasia. Though the eldest of the children could not be more than four, they all held still, faces intent upon her. And she sang. Hebrew, but he needed no vocabulary lesson to understand the playful tone. Her voice clear and sweet, she moved her hands in a dance of movement. When she tapped each child on the nose in turn, a chorus of giggles broke out.

Finding a woman who had a way with children was no great thing. But finding one whose face betrayed total delight as she lifted her voice? One who laughed along with them as if there were no greater joy? He had never met another creature who mustered such passion for each moment of life.

His brother stepped close to his side. “Lovely. I can see why you were intrigued.”

“Lovely, yes.” Haman sounded nowhere near impressed. “But better suited for a nursemaid than a wife of the king of kings.”

He shot his friend a glare. “She pleases me. Let that be that.”

“I will speak not another word of her.”

He glanced at his son to see whose side he would take up, and his breath bunched up in his chest. It was a look he knew well, that expression on Darius’s countenance. Knew it by feel. The same intrigue he himself was given to, the very one that had overcome him upon
his
first sighting of Kasia.

No. He would not suffer his son mooning over her, risking scandal and bad blood. He would not allow himself to consider that Darius was far closer to her in age. He would not let himself wonder if she would get a glimpse of the pup at his side and realize that her husband was, as Amestris helpfully pointed out, old enough to be her father.

Curse it.

“Father!”

The happy squeal stole his thoughts back from that vortex, and he looked down in time to scoop up little Chinara, who was aimed at his knees. With a chuckle, he settled her on his hip. “And a good morning to you, little sweet. Have you run off from your mother again?”

The wee one offered him an impish grin and no apology. “That is Kasia. She told us a story about a shepherd boy who fought a giant, and he won! And then the boy grew up to be king, but his sons were bad, and their people would not listen, and so eventually your father’s fathers carried them away.” She clapped chubby hands to his cheeks. “I know not why that made them cry. I like it when you carry
me
away, Father.”

He laughed and rewarded the mite’s wit with a kiss upon her brow. Chinara always brightened his day. “Shall I carry you around all day with me? You can help me pass judgment and plot out our great war against Greece.”

Her face gathered into a mask of consideration. “No. I shall listen to more of Kasia’s songs. But perhaps tomorrow I will help you, Father.”

“I will look forward to it.” He placed her back on her feet and then made himself face reality. The exchange would have caught Kasia’s attention. When he looked up, would he find her gaze had shifted and locked on Darius?

Her attention had indeed been snagged from the children. She had pulled her knees up, wrapped her arms around them. Her expression registered fascination, her eyes reflected what he would have called love, though she may apply the word more carefully than he. But she looked not at Darius. Nor at Masistes, at Haman, at any of the children. Her attention was his, and his alone.

Evening could not come fast enough.

Seven

Esther jerked up in her bed to fight the enemy holding her down. It took her a moment to realize her cover was tangled in her limbs, nothing more. Still, her heart thumped too fast, too hard, and dark images pounded her eyes.

There had been water everywhere. Pouring from the sky, surging from beneath. Wave upon wave beating her until she could not tell which way was up. Just as she thought her lungs would explode, Kasia’s name had burst from her lips and the nightmare had vanished.

Only it had not. Kasia was still gone, lost to those waves. Had her last moments been like that? The burning, the confusion, the mad fight for salvation?

Esther tossed her cover aside and crawled out of her bed, desperate for fresh air. Exiting into the main room, she heard the soft snoring of the servants and silence from Mordecai’s chamber. She held her breath and let herself out the front door.

The night washed cool and refreshing over her. She knew not where she intended to go, but her feet would not stand still. They took her down the street, stuck close to the houses, and paused at the end. A low wall stretched ahead. Over it she would find the Choaspes River.

Dare she?

Kasia would have. She would have cast a glance over her shoulder to be sure no one followed, then run off with a grin. She would have plunged into the water until it erased all her worries, then reemerged the better for it.

Until the night the waters did not relinquish her again.

With a shudder, Esther turned back toward home. She took a step, then stopped when the sound of metal clashing against metal reached her ears. Weapons? Out here? Curiosity underscored her alarm—she slid forward until she could see over the wall.

The moon, three-quarters full, shone down and bathed the earth with silver light that erased all color and left it shimmering. It gilded the two men, caught their spears and daggers arcing through the air.

Her breath caught when she recognized Zechariah, his face stony, his arms bulging as he parried off his attacker. She was set to release it in a scream when the attacker broke off. And laughed.

“Were it possible, I would swear you had been practicing on your own, Zech.”

Zechariah relaxed his stance, but from where she stood in the shadows, his smile looked forced. “I have a few demons to battle.”

“The Spartans themselves would tremble if they saw you tonight. Fight like that in the war, and the king will advance you quickly.”