Jewel of Persia (10 page)

War? King? Esther pressed a hand to her lips. Surely he did not intend to join the army, to march against Greece. Surely she would not lose him, too.

Zechariah sighed. “Assuming I can convince my father to let me go. If he knew you were training me, Bijan . . .”

“You are a man, Zechariah. Old enough to join the army without your father’s permission.”

Esther had the urge to lob a rock at this Bijan’s skull for such a suggestion. Zechariah sighed again. “He just lost his eldest daughter. If I joined the king’s forces, he would see it as losing his eldest son as well. I cannot do that to the family. I will not go without his blessing.”

Yet the expression on Zechariah’s face told her that though he may respect his father’s word on the matter, he would also resent him for it.

Her poor Zechariah. Would he ever be content in the life he was given? To labor beside his father and take over the wood shop? Or would he forever yearn for more, for what he could not have?

Bijan snorted. “You are a better son than your father deserves. Did you see the way he sneered at me when I came into the shop last week? It is no wonder few other Persians make use of his skill.”

Esther winced, but Zechariah chuckled. “He will never see that he is as judgmental of his Persian neighbors as they have been of him. I had better get back, Bijan, before I am missed. Same time tomorrow night?”

“I will be sure I am well rested so I might offer you more of a challenge.” The Persian took the spear Zechariah proffered and, with a wave, trotted off down the river.

Before she could dash away, Zechariah turned. A start of recognition crossed his countenance, and he strode her way.

She pulled her spine up, rolled her shoulders back, and promised herself she would not cower.

“Esther.” His voice, though low and harsh, sounded sweet to her ears. “What are you doing here?”

She tried to arch her brow in the same way Kasia would have. “I might ask you the same question.”

The corner of his mouth tugged up, though he was quick to bite back the smile. “Ah, but I am not a slip of a girl out without chaperone.”

“And yet I daresay my cousin would not be as angry at finding me here as your father would be you.” She nodded to the spot where he had been training for a war not his own. “What are you doing, Zechariah? You know he will never allow you to go, so why torment yourself?”

He loosed a long breath and raked a hand over his hair. “I do not expect a girl-child to understand these things. Even Kasia did not, though she found it amusing.”

Realizing Kasia had known and greeted it with good humor eased her heart. “So you will leave me to guess why? Is it that you do not enjoy your work in the wood shop? Are you seeking relief for the pain of Kasia’s loss?”

He folded his arms over his chest and stared at her in the soft light of the moon. “Have you ever wanted something without reason, little Esther? As if it were part of your blood, part of your flesh, even though all logic tells you it cannot be?”

She took a moment to consider, then shook her head.

“I thought not. But can you imagine what it would feel like?” He let his arms drop to his sides and turned his face toward the moon. “I cannot shake the feeling that I was born for more than carving chairs and tables. The first time I took up a spear and shield, it was as though I could finally see through the veil always over my eyes, as if I glimpsed what my future could be.” He looked her way again. “Have I shocked you?”

How could she be shocked when his tone conveyed such assurance? “The blood of warriors must still flow through you.”

“Perhaps. And perhaps if there were a chance to fight
against
Persia rather than
for
it, Abba would not argue with my desire to take up arms.” He sighed and studied her for a long moment. “Will you keep my secret, little Esther? If he found out I come here each night . . .”

“Of course.” Her eyes tracked past him though, to where his training took place. One false move, one slip, and he could be wounded or killed. “Who is this Bijan? I did not recognize him.”

“He does not live in this part of Susa—he is the son of a wealthy Persian, one who sought out the best to carve a chest for him, in spite of the fact that the best is Jewish. That is how we met. We began talking one day when Abba was out. He is one of the Immortals.”

Esther blinked. One of the king’s most elite fighters was training Zechariah? And found him so competent? “Oh.”

“Mmm.” He nodded toward the street behind her. “Come, let me deliver you home.”

She turned when he touched her elbow and fell in beside him. Though her feet strolled sedately, her thoughts sprinted too fast. What if this hidden drive of Zechariah’s ripped him away from her?

He stopped outside Mordecai’s door and looked down at her. “I can trust you with this?”

Her chin edged up. “Need you ask?”

A quirk of his lips was her answer. “Good night, little one.”

She slipped back inside, climbed back into her bed. Now she would have even more images to plague her dreams. Kasia, swallowed by the river. And Zechariah, bitten by a spear.

If only she could survive without sleep.

~*~

All conversation ceased the moment Kasia stepped into the courtyard. She drew in a long breath, fastened a small smile onto her lips and made her way to an empty corner. The other wives began talking again, but their whispers were all pointed now.

“Presumptuous slave.”

“I cannot believe the king is giving her such attention.”

“He will tire of her soon.”

“Did you see her room? And yet he calls her every night.”

“Mistress.” Desma kneeled at her knee, face pained. “Why do you suffer this? Put them in their place. However long it may last, you are the favorite of the king, and that gives you privileges.”

Kasia shook her head and smiled when Leda arrived with a plate of food and a chalice of sweet watered wine. “But if I should fall from that favor, Desma, the impact will be all the harder if I exalt myself now.”

Desma sighed. “Mistress, I served a favorite of the king before, but his esteem for you far outshines anything I have seen. Your heart is kind, your spirit bright. You deserve to take the honor your husband gives you.”

Kasia cast her gaze over the courtyard and the assortment of women breakfasting. Some were old enough to be her mother and had been with Xerxes since he was an ambitious prince. Some were no older than she. All of the full wives had come from upstanding families, some were royalty in their own right. The concubines were of outstanding beauty.

Her maidservants had shared enough gossip with her over the past week of feasting that she knew who the king had once loved, who he never had any fondness for. Who to avoid at all costs, and who they thought would welcome her.

None had. Oh, some were nice when Atossa introduced her a week ago, especially when they saw her lowly chamber. But when she was called night after night, their warmth baked into a parched, dry chasm. Halfway through the week, she had given up attending the queen’s nightly feasts. Why present herself only to be ignored or insulted?

How she missed Esther. Her sisters. Her chest banded at the thought of them.
A friendly face, Jehovah. Please, send me one friendly face
.

To Desma she sent a tight smile. “I feel unequal to the honor, my friend. If the king loves me, it is for no reason these women would recognize. I will be content if I can live quietly among them.” So long as she could then spark to life in Xerxes’ arms every evening. But what if he tired of her? What then would she have?

Her maid gave up. Kasia broke off a piece of bread and settled it on her tongue, but before she could swallow a shadow fell over her. Hegai crouched at her side. “Greetings, mistress.”

Her heart knew relief. Every time Hegai spoke to her, it was to tell her that she would join the king again. “Good morning, Hegai.”

“I come with tidings from the king. He must welcome another woman into the house of wives this night, but he wishes you to rest assured that he will see you again tomorrow.”

Her joy froze in her chest, but she managed a smile. She had known this day would come. There were too many wives, too many brides that needed his attention. Still it hurt—how could it not? But she would not give the others the pleasure of seeing it. “Of course. If you speak to the king again, tell him I understand but will miss him keenly.”

“Certainly. He also wishes you to have this.”

From his upheld hand dangled a gleaming strand of white spheres that reflected the morning’s light in an iridescent rainbow. She reached out a finger and touched one of them. “Beautiful. Are they pearls?”

Hegai chuckled and took the liberty of securing them around her neck. “They are. Have you never seen any before?”

She shook her head. “Not until I came here, and since then there have been so many jewels everywhere I cannot begin to guess which are which.”

“I imagine my master will see that you learn them. He says these reminded him of the gleam of your flawless skin.” Hegai grinned and straightened. “Wear them when he calls you tomorrow.”

“I will. Thank you for delivering them. And I look forward to thanking my husband in person.” She lifted a hand to touch the strand and felt heat stain her cheeks. Even before she looked away from the custodian, she felt the weight of many gazes upon her. Surely it was not strange for the king to send gifts to his wives—all these women wore jewels on throats, wrists, fingers, even fastened upon their clothing. Where would they get them, if not from Xerxes?

“Enjoy your day, mistress. I must prepare the new bride for her evening.”

“Thank you again, Hegai.” She sent him off with a smile—and wished he would stay a moment more between her and the rest of the wives.

Ah, well. After she ate, she would go to the back garden and entertain the young children for a while. They, at least, welcomed her.

As if summoned by her thoughts, two little hands appeared on her table. She knew those pudgy fingers well already, and was not surprised when they reached for a cluster of her grapes. “I believe you are to ask before taking another’s food, little Chinara.”

The girl grinned and popped a grape into her mouth. “May I have some grapes, Kasia?”

She tickled the wee one’s tummy. Like her sister Sarai, Chinara giggled and pulled half away while her eyes begged for more sweet torture. Kasia chuckled. “And if I say no?”

Chinara pulled another grape from its stem and offered it to Kasia. “Why would you do that? You can always ask for more.”

A far different outlook from the one she had grown up with. This child had no concept of want or waste, would never feel the pangs of hunger. Kasia smoothed back a lock of the girl’s ebony hair and smiled. “I can indeed. And how is your mother this morning? Feeling better?”

“Recovered and apologetic.”

The new voice brought Kasia’s gaze up. This had to be Chinara’s mother, one of the few wives she had yet to meet.

The woman grinned Chinara’s grin and helped herself to the empty seat at Kasia’s side. “Sorry if my little imp is bothering you. Keeping a rein on her is either impossible or I am a terrible mother.”

Chinara hopped up on her mother’s lap and snuggled in. “You are the best mother ever. And see, I told you Kasia is pretty, no matter what that mean old Sherene said.”

The mother chuckled. “I had no doubts, little love.” To Kasia she added, “I am Jasmine. You are obviously Kasia, and it is a pleasure to meet you. The others have complained of you so much I knew I would like you immediately.”

Praise Jehovah, this woman would be a friend. Kasia smiled. “I fear they have spoken to me not at all, so I know little of you. But I look forward to remedying that, Jasmine. I find your daughter a delight.”

Jasmine pressed a kiss to the imp’s head. “She is that. Now.” Her eyes, a strange gray like fog over the river, twinkled. “I saw Hegai give you the necklace. The king rarely has anything presented publicly. His gifts are usually given in private, so many women use their allowance to order jewelry they say is from him when we all know it is not. You will not have to stoop to that. He must love you immensely.”

Contentment welled up. “I think he does. I hope so. No other man has ever made my heart awaken like this.”

Chinara wiggled down and took off. Jasmine watched her as she dashed about. “You are blessed. I have found happiness here thanks to Chinara, but if not for her . . . I angered the king by weeping the night we became man and wife, and he has never called me again. Perhaps he would have, to honor my father, had I not gotten with child and then been rendered barren from the birth.”

“That is awful.” Kasia reached out and covered the hand Jasmine had put on the table. “How do you smile so brightly?” And how could the same man who spoke to her heart ignore Jasmine’s so completely?

Dimples flashed in Jasmine’s full cheeks. “It is not so terrible. I feel no need to compete with the others—I am at the bottom of their hierarchy, and that is a secure place to be. They all like me well enough since I am no threat. But still the king treats me kindly, because he adores our daughter. It is sufficient.”