Jewel of Persia (54 page)

He heard the rustle behind him, felt the movement of his brother. Hystaspes stood just behind him, at his right elbow.

He glanced at his sisters. Amytis rose, grabbed Rhodogune’s hand, and dashed behind the cover of her brothers.

Their mother shook. But no fear, no uncertainty showed on her face. “Will you steal my babe from me too?”

He and Father had already discussed that. “Artaxerxes will stay with you half the year, in the summer. He will winter here with us. Beginning next year, once he is weaned.”

Perhaps, had tears filled her eyes or pain tinged the anger, he would have felt some pity. But she only snarled. “You will all regret this. If my youngest is the only one I have left, then in my youngest will I put all my efforts. My youngest I will see on the throne. And do you know why? Because you are too weak to kill your own mother—but your mother is not too weak to kill her own sons.”

“Goodbye, Mother.” Turning, he guided the flock of his siblings out the door.

Forty-One

Mordecai nearly jumped when the king spoke his name. Never in his life had he been so jittery as these past three days, since Esther had been admitted into the house of women. He was not accustomed to hiding anything, especially something as soul-deep as his love for his adopted daughter. Still, he knew she must keep her heritage, and hence their relation, secret. Much as he liked Xerxes, the king would never give the crown to a Jewess.

Now, Jehovah willing, he could face his king without letting on that his daughter was one of the new brides. “My lord.”

“You are coming from a meeting with a few of my lesser officials, are you not?”

Mordecai inclined his head and met the king’s gaze. Nowhere in it did he see an accusation ready to strike. “Handling what we can without your involvement, my lord, yes.”

The king smiled. “Are you in a hurry to get home?”

As if there were anything to go home to now. “Not particularly.”

“Then you can walk with me. I have been meaning to speak with you since I returned to Susa, but time has not allowed it.”

“The king has been busy.” Given that he had ears, he had heard the rumors as to how he had been occupied. Given that he had logic, he knew most of those rumors would be false.

The father in him would have liked to know which parts held the kernels of truth.

Xerxes chuckled and led him into the gardens, but discomfort filled his eyes. “When we last spoke, you said I would see the power of Jehovah for myself.”

Enough small talk then. Mordecai nodded. “Perhaps you did, while at war?”

“More than once. Still, it took me nearly a year to admit there was something about him that my god lacked. Something he lacked that my god unfortunately did not.”

Yet still he called him his god. Mordecai nodded. “It is difficult to change one’s views on such things.”

“Yes, but I cannot deny the power of your God. He saved my wife more than once. Saved me and my army, according to her. She says other Jews were praying with her, though I know not how they could have known to.”

Mordecai drifted to a halt, hoping the king did not misinterpret his frown. Usually only the queen would be called “wife” with a stranger, but he obviously did not mean Amestris. It sounded, rather, like he had a Jewish wife. A faithful one.

But who? He knew all the Jewish families in Susa, and none had given a daughter to the king. Perhaps one from another of the capitals?

Irrelevant. “There were indeed times I felt a strong urge to pray for the army. One time in particular, it was strong enough that I roused all my people to pray for you as well. I later learned it was during the battle at Thermopylae.”

The king’s breath leaked out. “Just as she said. Amazing. And interesting. I see her pray daily, yet I am always surprised when I see what results from it.”

The curiosity was too great. “She must be a woman of strong faith. I confess I did not realize the king had a Jewish wife.”

“No?” The king’s lips curved, his eyes lit. More love saturated his face than Mordecai had ever expected to see from the ruler of nations. “I thought I mentioned her when last we spoke, but perhaps not. She is my heart.” The love flickered into pain. “Though not very pleased with me right now. You have heard the rumors.”

“All of Persia has, my lord. As a rule, I do not believe them.”

“You are a wise man. Suffice it to say enough is true that my favorite wife is rightly angry.” He shook his head, erased the emotion from his face. “It has been a long while since she has spoken to another of her people. I think she would enjoy a few moments to exchange these stories with you.”

Mordecai chuckled and nodded. “I would be honored to meet your wife. And if that regains you a bit of favor in her eyes, all the better.”

Xerxes laughed. “You obviously know how one thinks when trying to sweeten a woman’s mood.”

“My wife and I had our share of squabbles before she passed away.”

“This goes beyond a squabble, but I will not bore you with it.” Instead, he led him through a maze of paths, beyond hedges, and into the heart of the gardens. Here children’s laughter rang out along with feminine voices. He saw none, though, as he followed Xerxes to a secluded little nook surrounded by trees, shrubs, and myriad blooms.

Several figures occupied the space. He saw first the servants, two maids and two eunuchs. They stood in a protective circle, but upon spotting the king, they broke apart.

Mordecai halted. He was not so sure his heart did not stop too. Even before she looked up, he knew her. Knew the cascade of her hair, the slope of her shoulder. Knew the hum that reached his ear the moment he entered this sanctuary. Knew the spirit that pulsed from her.

“Kasia.” He could only pray no more came out in the word than should have. None of the love, none of the loss, none of the wonder and worry.

He had never expected to see her again, never expected to watch her eyes go wide with shocked recognition, her mouth curve into that brilliant smile. Never expected to be told she was the favorite wife of the king.

She sprang up, at which point he noticed the babe in her arms. “Mordecai!”

“You know each other.” The king sounded pleased.

He cleared his throat. “I know all the Jewish families in Susa, my lord.”

“Especially those only a few doors away.” Kasia reached out her free hand. Mordecai took it, bowed over it. Made himself let go. Still she smiled. “Mordecai and my father are good friends. I have known him all my life.”

“Perfect. He can update you on your family. I will give you time to catch up.” The king cupped her cheek. A blind man could have seen the tenderness, the devotion. He could take comfort in that. Just as he could in the complex response he saw in Kasia’s eyes. On the surface was only polite acceptance, which barely covered the apathy beneath. But Mordecai knew such apathy was only a bandage for hurt—the kind inflicted when one loved.

Xerxes sighed and brushed the lightest of kisses over her lips. Then he lifted the babe from her arms. “Zillah and I shall go make a few laws while you gossip of mutual friends and share stories of how your God outshone mine in the war.”

Warmth flooded Mordecai’s heart. “You named her after your mother.” And the king had allowed it.

But . . . if Kasia were his favorite, she would have sway. Why, then, had he felt so strongly that Esther needed to accept the marriage? Had he forced his daughter into something needlessly?

No. He could not believe that. He may not understand, but he had faith.

Kasia relinquished her daughter to her husband, a bit of feeling sparking through the apathy. “She should not be hungry for another hour.”

“I will return her to your room then. Come, princess. Let us go awe my court with your beauty.”

The babe yawned and nestled comfortably into the king’s chest. This must not be an unusual occurrence, for her to be so content in his arms.

Mordecai smiled as Xerxes nodded at him and then left. “She is indeed beautiful. How old?”

“Two months next week.” Sadness pervaded her smile. “You thought me dead.”

“Not for long.” He sat down on a bench when she motioned him to it. “Jehovah had me pray for you many times. I could not think he would have, had you been dead. Though I confess, I did not imagine this.”

She sat beside him, hummed out a breath.

Poor Kasia. How much of the rumors would have to be true to explain her pain? “He loves you very much.”

“Too much, I have begun to think.” She squeezed her eyes shut, her hands balled in her chiton. “His brother is dead, his brother’s wife, because of his love for me. His empire could have crumbled. His son could have led a coup. All because of his jealousy.”

Warning noted. He took a moment to praise the Lord that his love for her had deepened to something beyond the desire to make her his wife. Then he drew in a breath. “Did you by chance go into labor during the wedding?”

She looked over at him, lifted her brows. “I did.”

“That accounts for that time of prayer, then. What of the first, two weeks or so after your supposed death? That one took me by surprise.”

Her lips twitched. “That would have been when Amestris first tried to kill me.”

He felt his face tighten, each and every muscle. “What of the worst one, the day the army was set to leave Sardis for Abydus? Were you with them when you fell down the cliff?”

She stared at him, mouth agape. “How could you have known that?”

His eyes slid shut as the echo of sensation filled his memory. “The Spirit came upon me, impressed the need to pray. I felt your pain—at first, I think, just to let me see how urgent the need was. But as I felt it, I knew you could not survive that as well as the injuries themselves. As I prayed for healing, I prayed also that I might take the pain for you.”

“I . . . I know not what to say. Your prayers saved my life, then. I was pushed from the wall of the palace, down the mountainside. When the darkness fell . . .”

“Who?” He looked at her again. “Who would push you?”

She shook her head. “At this point, I assume we will never know.”

“Disconcerting. But you lived.”

“Miraculously. The next morning, my wounds were all healed. All but one.” She turned her face away and gripped the bench. “I lost a son that day. He was stillborn.”

“Kasia, I am sorry.” He covered her hand with his. “I should have done more. Prayed more.”

“It does not sound like you could have.” She dug up a smile. “Enough of me. Tell me of those here in Susa. My family?”

“All are well. The twins married last year, both are now with child. Your parents are well. They have had much work from the palace . . . which suddenly makes sense.”

Her smile flashed and faded. “What of Esther?”

She had spoken in a hush, and he could not help but glance around in search of prying eyes, listening ears. The only others present were her servants, and he had a feeling they could be trusted. “She is here, Kasia. She was one of the twelve admitted to the house of women for a chance to become the queen.”

“What?” Excitement, disbelief, and caution warred in her eyes. “But a Jewess—”

“They do not know.” He pitched his voice still lower, leaned close. “They did not ask who her guardian was, did not seem to care—she has grown so beautiful, Kasia. I told her to keep her heritage a secret. It is the only way she will have a chance at the crown.”

“She is here? There?” She motioned at a roof, which he presumed belonged to the house of women.

“Wait.” His stomach churned, twisted. “You have probably spoken of her. I obviously had not considered that her secret could be undone so easily.”

“No. No, I never have. I thought it was because I wanted to hold that friendship close, but I think Jehovah must have stopped my mouth all these years. To preserve her chances. Mordecai.” She took his hand, squeezed it, and met his gaze. “She will be queen. You have my word.”

Hope quickened inside him, but reason still nudged it aside. “She will at least have her chance.”

“She will have more than that. I will see to it.” She straightened her shoulders, drew in a breath. And looked regal herself. “Never in my years here have I played at intrigue, but in this I will. I have been charged with instructing the new brides. My word will have much sway over the king.”

“You would do that for her?”

“I would do anything for her. She is as much a sister to me as my blood, the dearest friend I ever knew. And I can then ‘introduce’ you to her, Mordecai, so you might still see each other once in a while.”

He let his eyes shut, let the gratitude swell. “Praise the Lord. He has orchestrated all of this down to the last detail. And you will have each other here.”

She patted his hand, then stood. He looked up at her and saw that her gaze was on that roof again. “I must move with care, make it appear that we have only just met but have taken to one another.” She glanced over her shoulder at her servants.

One of the maids offered a smile. “You know we will do anything to assist you, mistress.”