to take the small portion your marriage contract entitles you to and retire to some obscure home? Would you not prefer your children have the means to care for you in your old age?”
“‘Means’ does not necessitate obscene wealth. But I will take your words to heart and be sure I never grow accustomed to these comforts.”
Xerxes threw his head back in laughter and slid an arm around her shoulder. “You go to an extreme, dear one. Comfort you will always have. Luxury may not be as forthcoming, unless your sons provide it . . . or unless you curry the favor of my heir.”
At the warning in that last part, she lifted her brows. “Is that another game your wives play? Seeking the good opinion of your sons?”
His lips thinned. “To varying—and sometimes dangerous—degrees. At least it has been so in past reigns. I once caught my elder brother in a compromising situation with one of our father’s youngest wives. As I watch my son grow into a man, I can but hope he has the sense to avoid such traps.” He arched a brow her way. “What think you? Did he strike you as sensible enough for that?”
She frowned at the sharp question in his gaze. “I have never met your son, my love.”
Amusement replaced the inquisition. “Of course you have. Your first morning here, when we came to see you in the garden.”
Searching her mind brought nothing but a vague recollection of the others who had been with him. “Really?”
“Indeed. Darius, my brother Masistes, and Haman were all there.”
“I shall take your word for it.” Lips twitching up, her anger faded. “I can recall only how my heart swelled when I saw you with Chinara. I care not what position our someday-children have in the empire—I just hope you love them like that.”
“Ah, Kasia.” He held her tight. “Never change.”
She snuggled against him and let peace wash over her. “Only as you desire and the Lord wills.”
He pulled away with a sigh and a glance toward the heavens. “I have guests to greet. Shall I walk you back to your pathetic little room?”
She laughed and slapped his chest lightly. “Go to your feast, Xerxes. I will linger here another moment.”
After a warm kiss, he took a step away but then paused. “Have you explored the compound yet?”
The very thought had terrified her each time someone proposed it. She shook her head.
Xerxes smiled. “In the next few days, I will show you our winter home in its fullness.”
She smiled and raised her arm in farewell. “I will look forward to it.”
He strode away with all the confidence of a man who ruled half the world. Kasia smiled and shook her head. Her husband was so sure of himself he could mount an invasion of a continent . . . while she was so insecure she could not venture beyond this one building. Perhaps after he showed her around, it would not seem so overwhelming.
A frisson of unease washed over her, and she froze. She was not alone. Her eyes scanned the flowers and trees, the fountain pulsing with clear, sweet water. Her gaze snagged on the form of a woman. A woman whose stomach was round with child, whose face was hard as stone, whose eyes spewed unmitigated hatred.
Kasia gulped. “Good evening, my queen.”
Nine
Mordecai stood and stretched the soreness out of muscles left too long in one position. It had been a tiring day, full of complaints from his people. Tomorrow he would take them before the officials to work out what could easily be handled. What they could not solve he would take before the king three days hence.
He drew in a deep breath. With all of Persia preparing for war, it seemed that people forgot to respect what would be left behind. Thievery and vandalism were growing steadily, and the Jews suffered it more than anyone. Perhaps it would improve once the growing number of troops marched out to meet the rest of the army. He hoped so.
Turning away from the gates, he headed home, ready for a quiet meal with Esther. At the next corner, he put one foot onto his street and halted. His spirit weighed heavy within him, blurring his vision and stealing his breath. “Jehovah?” he whispered.
The crowds repelled him like the wrong end of a loadstone, pushing him back out of the street and in search of solitude. He had no idea where he was headed but gave his feet leave to take him where they and the Lord willed.
At the riverbank, he fell to his knees. Not until his forehead touched the ground did a measure of peace restore his breath. “What is it, Lord?”
Eyes bright and deep, lit with concern. Lips full and lush, their smile forced. Full, shining dark hair.
“Kasia.” He squeezed his eyes shut and curled his fingers into his palms. “Does she live, Jehovah? Does she need your help?”
Panic surged up, urgent and insistent. He could waste no time on conjecture—questions would have to wait until later. “Jehovah God, cast your protection over her this moment. Let your heavenly warriors take up guard around her, warding off the workers of iniquity. Lend her your wisdom, that she might out-strike any serpent. Lend her your love, that she might remain gentle and uninjured by whatever travails befall her. Lend her your authority, that she might stand strong against whoever seeks to crush her.”
A hot breeze whirled around him. Light edged the vision behind his closed eyes. No relief, but rather more pressure. He clasped his hands over his bowed head and prayed whatever words came to his tongue, wondering if this was how his ancestor Hananiah had felt when tossed into the fiery furnace in Babylon.
He heard the beat of wings larger than any bird’s fly over him.
~*~
Amestris stared down the new concubine and let her blood boil in her veins. What was it about this girl that had Xerxes so enthralled? She looked like no more than a peasant, ill suited for jewels and fine linen.
Her husband had dressed up peasants before. Amestris took no issue with the pearls on her throat, with the silver on her arm. Something else about this girl, though, set her teeth on edge.
She took a step toward the Jewess, then another. Were it not for the awkwardness of her babe-heavy stomach, she would have demonstrated what true grace was—something this base-born wench could never know.
The girl set her head in an angle of deferment, but her eyes . . . they did not seek the ground, carried no fear.
Amestris stopped a few feet away. “You have much to learn, concubine. Do you think you are special because of the way my husband looks at you?”
“I think I am nothing.” Yet the humility was underscored by iron.
The boil of blood snapped and sizzled. “Were you not cautioned to stay away from me?”
Now the wench’s brows lifted. Such insolence. “And so I have, my queen.”
“You say from a step away.”
“Where my husband left me. I feared it would be rude to leave without greeting when I saw you, but if you wish, I shall go at once.” She lifted an arm and motioned toward the garden’s entrance.
Amestris’s gaze narrowed on the flash of silver on her biceps, and her hand whipped out to grab the girl’s arm. “What is this?”
“I—”
“Silence.” She tugged the wretch closer, shoved her sleeve out of the way, and hissed when she saw the twin lions’ heads on the torc. “You dare to steal from the king? Next time, take something not given him by my hand. Did you think no one would recognize the gift I commissioned for his birthday feast? Stupid Jewess.”
The girl’s eyes flashed, but not with guilt or rebellion. She swallowed. “I did not realize it was a gift from your blessed hand, my