The Desert Princess (5 page)

The image of Abba's impatience suddenly fueled my own. I was about to ride through Jerusalem's limestone gates, down brick streets, to the gleaming golden palace I had only heard about in stories from my father.

I hurried to help Inaya and cast a silent prayer to Solomon's God that the king and his son would not find me wanting.

My camel turned at the bend in the road and carried me through the guarded gate to King David's palace. I was so taken with the sights, the beauty of the place, that I barely heard my father order the camels to kneel. Sparkling white stone pillars held the roof above a grand porch, and gleaming, golden lion's-head sculptures were mounted on either side of the great wide doors.

I blinked, trying to clear my thoughts and focus on what the guard was saying to my father, but I could not shake the dazed feeling that filled me. What splendor! The palace in Rabbah was nothing in comparison. The realization made me suddenly aware that I was no match for King David's son. I could not expect an alliance to be made on my behalf. I was the daughter of a reluctant ambassador and subject of this king, nothing more.

The sobering thought would not abate as I followed the guard to the anteroom several steps behind my father. When at last the guard left us to wait our turn to see the king, I sought my father's ear.

“I did not think the king quite so wealthy,” I said, keeping my voice low. “They had so little in Mahanaim, and even the stories you told . . . ” Words failed me, and I gave him an imploring look. “I should not have come.”

He gave my arm a reassuring pat. “Of course you should have come,” he said in his soft, comforting tone. “King David came from humble means, my child. All of this wealth”—he waved a hand over the room rich with tapestries and colorful mosaic tiles in shades of blue and gold and gleaming white—“means little to this king. He is still a humble man, my daughter. You need not fear.” His smile helped but a little to overcome my anxious heart.

“I will try, Abba.” I wanted to say more, but another guard approached. We were ushered into the audience chamber sooner than I expected. A golden throne stood at the end of a long room, and tables and additional seats were placed beneath arched porticos on either side of the hall. Scribes and courtiers stood or sat in these
areas, their gazes fixed in our direction. Heat crept up my neck, and I thanked the God of Solomon for the veil that hid my embarrassment.

We stopped at a green and blue line of tiles before the raised dais and bowed low, but before we did, I dared to glance in the king's direction. Another chair was to his right, and Solomon's mother sat upon it. I drew in a sharp breath. She was more beautiful than my memory recalled. She smiled at me, and I quickly lowered my gaze. Did this kind woman remember me?

But it was Solomon whose form I longed to set eyes upon, yet I had seen no sign of him, which dampened my spirits. Where could he be? My heart beat faster within me as thoughts tumbled inside my head. Abba was wrong. I should not have come.

“Shobi, my friend. It is so good to see you again.” King David's voice was strong, and when I glanced up at him, I noted the genuine affection in his eyes. “Is this your little daughter?” The king's brow lifted and he offered me an approving smile. “Though she is a child no longer.”

My father inclined his head in my direction. “Yes, my lord. This is my Naamah. She was anxious to see Jerusalem, and now that she is a woman grown, I thought the time was right.”

King David glanced at his wife. “You remember Naamah, my love?”

Bathsheba's smile warmed me as it did the day I met her in Mahanaim. “Yes, of course, my lord.” She smiled at the king, then took my measure. “She has grown into a lovely woman.” She looked at my father. “You must be quite proud of her.”

My father nodded and assured them both that I had exceeded his greatest plans for me, that I was well versed in all matters worthy of a princess of Ammon. The praise caused the heat to grow within me, and I hid my eyes from their perusal and studied the tiles at my feet instead, suffering the unpleasant feeling that I was on display.

“Naamah.” Bathsheba spoke my name, jarring my attention from the tiles. I looked her way once more.

“Yes, my queen?” Was she a queen? I suddenly realized that the guard had not instructed us on what to say or how to address the king or this obviously favored wife.

“While your father and the king discuss their business dealings, I would like to show you around the palace. Would you like that?”

I nodded. “Yes, my queen.” Though I wished it was Solomon who had asked the question. Would we meet him in the halls? Should I ask after him?

“Very good,” Bathsheba said, rising from her gilded chair. “Come with me.”

She descended the steps and walked toward a side door I had not noticed before. I glanced at my father. At his lifted brow and quick nod, I knew I should not linger. I bowed low before King David once more, then stood and walked with graceful steps toward the door the queen had entered.

As I stepped through into a smaller but more private antechamber, I stopped short. Bathsheba stood talking with someone that at first I did not recognize. By his resplendent robes I knew him to be royalty, but when he turned to look my way, I found it difficult to breathe. There was no mistaking the resemblance to his mother and his father. And though I had not seen him in five years, I would never forget the intensity in those dark eyes or the twinkle that accompanied his approving smile.

He glanced at his mother, then strode to my side. “Naamah?” He bowed at the waist, and I did the same, unsure at that moment what to do with my hands. I clasped them together to still my sudden nervousness.

“Solomon?” I smiled, though he could not see it behind the veil.

“What a pleasure to see you again,” he said. “Father told me he expected your father to arrive today, but he did not tell me you would be accompanying him. I had hoped you would come one day, and here you are.”

His smile held genuine kindness, or so I told myself, though his words were probably said to be polite, because what else could he say to a young woman who begs her father to travel with his caravan?

I suddenly realized how shameless it must look for me to be here at all. What other ambassador would bring his daughter on such a trip? But I ignored the uneasiness that thought evoked. I was here now, and the man of my many dreams stood before me.

“Thank you, my lord,” I said, glancing from him to my sandaled feet. “I am glad to be here.”

He didn't respond immediately, causing me to look up. He exchanged a look with his mother, but I could not make sense of his guarded expression or their silent communication. When he
returned his attention to me, he smiled. “My mother has allowed me the privilege of escorting you on a tour of the palace. That is, if you would like to join me?”

I studied him but a moment, aware of the slight strain in the pull of his mouth and the fine lines hidden beneath the heavy dark bangs across his brow.

“I would enjoy that very much.” I glanced at his mother. “I hope you will join us, my lady?”

Bathsheba stepped closer and shook her head. “I will look forward to meeting with you before the evening meal. If you don't mind, I have a few things I need to attend to first.”

I forced myself to remain calm and dignified as I had been taught, though I was suddenly unsure of myself. Five years had changed Solomon, but I could not tell if he was simply wary or worried. When he offered me his arm, I gladly took it.

“Though my father has not yet declared it, I am his intended heir,” he said, leaning close to my ear as he led me through the antechamber. “Unfortunately, his hesitance to say so publicly puts me and my mother at risk.” He indicated the guard that followed at a discreet distance. “Thus the guards.”

“It seems to me,” I said, feeling that sense of understanding we had had so briefly as children return to me now, “that you were in the same predicament when we met five years ago.”

He leaned away to better look at me and chuckled. “So it would seem.”

The hall led to a private door, which he opened without pause. “What is like vinegar to the teeth and smoke to the eyes?” he asked as we stepped into the grandeur of the king's gardens.

I squinted my eyes as I had that day when I was ten. “A sluggard,” I said, laughing.

He laughed with me. “You remembered.”

“It was not something I would easily forget.”

He smiled at me and settled me on a bench beneath a large terebinth tree, then sat beside me. He fingered the veil at my temple, gently brushing his hand against my cheek. I flushed hot and tingling, even beneath the veil. “Five years ago, we did not have this between us. I enjoyed the ability to look on your face, to easily read your expressions.”

I lowered my gaze, my senses heightened and attuned to his nearness. “I don't suppose I have to wear it the whole visit,” I said, though I knew Inaya would scold me for days to come if I removed it now.

He seemed to think on that as he used to do when we were young. At last he shook his head. “No. Keep it on.” He smiled in that lazy way that must make every woman in Jerusalem love him. “You are temptation enough with it.”

I did my best not to fidget with the belt at my waist.

“How was your trip from Ammon? I am sorry I have yet to visit your town.”

“It was longer than I expected. At times I can still feel the camel beneath me.”

He laughed, revealing straight white teeth. I caught the hint of mint on his breath. “I prefer the horse to the camel. They are such proud, powerful creatures.”

“They are prettier than a camel, I daresay. And not as ornery.” I clasped my hands to force my nerves to still. Being so close to him after all these years brought on a headier feeling than I had imagined. “Horses would not make the trip as easily, though,” I said. “Some of the terrain we traveled was better suited to a camel, and the ride was slightly less bumpy than a horse could be.”

“You are right, of course. But a horse is far better in battle. Any nation that would be great needs a strong military might. That means a great number of horses and chariots.”

“You have put much thought into your future reign,” I said, hoping he could hear the admiration in my voice.

He shrugged. “I am observant. And I have been sitting on my father's court most of my life. I would simply choose what is wise for the kingdom.”

“You will make a fine king someday.” And in that moment, I realized that as king, he would not want to be saddled with a foreign wife. Would he?

Before I could pursue the thought, he changed the subject to other topics, to riddles and worship and the political intrigue he could not escape.

“May I ask you something?” I said when our conversation lapsed momentarily into silence. He seemed far away from me in that moment, and I yearned to know why.

He leaned into the bench and lifted a curious brow. “Ask whatever you like, Princess.”

My face flushed at the look in his eyes, but I determined not to allow myself to be flustered by my disobedient emotions. “Why did you stop our correspondence? Not a single word came from you once I turned thirteen.” I looked at my hands, suddenly embarrassed at my boldness. “Did I somehow offend you, my lord?”

Silence followed my question, and I feared that if I had not offended him before, I certainly had done so now. But a moment later he touched my arm. I looked up, meeting his gaze.

“It was not proper to continue to write to a princess of marriageable age. Not without declaring some kind of intentions.” His voice held little emotion, but as I held tight to his gaze, it was he who finally looked away.

“I understand,” I said at last, feeling the loss of something I had savored for too long. He did not want me. He had not spent the past five years pining for me as I had for him. Suddenly I felt utterly foolish for coming here. Perhaps Jabbar was truly the best man for a princess of Ammon. I shuddered at the thought.

“Naamah,” Solomon said, coaxing my chin up with the slightest pressure of his fingers.

I lifted my head, too aware of the moisture filling my eyes. What a fool I was!

“I'm glad you came,” he said, his smile relaxed, as though trying to put me again at ease. “I have thought often of you in the past few years, but I have been caught up in finishing my father's plans for the temple model, the temple he wants me to build one day. And there is the constant worry that though he acts as though I am his heir, he will not name me so. The tension of waiting and the threat that is always there from my older brothers have been immense.”

I touched his hand, losing myself in the vulnerability of his smile. “I'm sorry. I must sound like a petulant child. It is only that I missed hearing from you. There were so many questions I wanted to ask you—about Adonai.”

He leaned back and studied me. “You have come to believe in Him.” It was not a question. Could he read my faith in my eyes?

I nodded. “Molech no longer holds me captive. But I have often longed to hear more of Adonai from your lips.”

He squeezed my hand and smiled. “I would have enjoyed such a conversation,” he assured me.

Our words grew less awkward after that. The sun moved past the halfway point, and still we talked as though time had never separated us. My stomach grumbled, and we both heard it. He laughed and I joined him.