Jewel of Persia

by White, Roseanna M.

  Artabanas surveyed the Hellespont and sighed. “It is a great force, my lord.”

  Xerxes leaned into the side of his throne so that he could better watch his uncle’s lined face. Each wrinkle had been etched by concern—some well-earned, others needless. “Yet you were against this campaign at the start.”

  “Sometimes I wonder even now.” The old man met his gaze only briefly, then looked at the fleet again. “I know what the god promised. We felt him in the darkness. Yet still the fear that came upon us at Troy lingers in my heart.”

  “It is groundless. Look around you. Is there anything lacking in my fleet? In the land army?”

  Artabanas twisted the frazzled end of his silver beard. “No sane man could find anything lacking in the numbers. But that is precisely where my fears rest, nephew. What harbor will we find large enough for all your ships? If a storm comes upon us, what will keep them safe?”

  Xerxes shifted again but could find no comfort on his throne.

  Artabanas motioned to the great flock of foot soldiers. “And the land itself will be the enemy of the army. I know you have put up as many provisions as you could, but the deeper we go into the Europe, the harder it will be to access them. The earth cannot support us, and we have already drunk one river dry.”

  Xerxes stood and crossed his arms over his chest. “No prizes are won by those who sit and contemplate all that could go wrong. Yes, there are risks. With risk comes the greatest reward. Besides, it is not as though we are invading a collection of nomads. There will be farms as we go.”

  “Which the men will descend upon like insects.”

  Xerxes growled and tossed a hand in the air. “Your advice is never anything but caution and fear. What would you have me do, sit at home in Persia and let the empire stagnate? If a king took such council, there would be no empire.”

  Artabanas sighed again. “I know you would have me worry about nothing, but I cannot help it. You have put so much trust in so many people—and not all of them are deserving.”

  “Oh, is that so? And who, O wise uncle, have I mistrusted? Do enlighten me.”

  His words must have been tinged with red—Artabanas paled and cleared his throat. “I have never thought Mardonius the wisest choice for a commander—”

  “He is skilled in strategy.”

  His uncle inclined his head. “And I wish you had not given so much control to Haman—”

  “My brother’s dearest friend.” He paced to the edge of the dais and spun back. “Any other wisdom?”

  Artabanas pressed his lips together. “The Ionians . . .”

  “A whole people now?” He kicked at a loose pebble and sent it skittering down the hill. “Where there is no trouble to be found, you create it. Do you think, with Greece on the horizon, this could possibly help?”

  His uncle shrank back. “You asked, my lord.”

  “I did not expect a whole new list of nay-saying. Though I should have, it is all you ever offer.”

  “That is not—”

  “Enough!” He sliced a hand through the air and stomped back to his throne. “Go back to Susa, Artabanas.”

  “My lord—”

  “Now. I do not need your doubt befouling the entire campaign.”

  The old fool stood, straightened his spine, and rolled back his shoulders. And looked not so old, nor such a fool. “I will go. I will go and leave you to your rash advisors who flatter your vanity and push you into folly. And you will regret it when they lead you straight to disaster.”

  Xerxes’ fingers clamped down on the armrest. He gritted his teeth together. “Get you gone, old man, before I dishonor the memory of my father by saying what is on my mind.”

  Artabanas spun and strode down the hill.

  Too late. The day lay in ruins at Xerxes’ feet.

  ~*~

  Kasia glanced up at Zethar as they walked. “Is he terribly angry?”

  “Brooding.” The eunuch sighed. “Angry brooding.”

  Her heart thudded. Not since the news of the first bridge’s collapse had she been called upon to soothe an enraged Xerxes. With all that happened since then, she was not so sure she would still be able to. “Has no one else spoken with him?”

  “He will not let any in, not after Mardonius came and praised his wisdom in sending Artabanas home.”

  The corner of her mouth pulled up. “Being told he was right angered him more?”

  Zethar smiled too. “You know the king.”

  Yes, she did. Even now. Still, she breathed a silent prayer as they neared her husband’s tent. When they stopped, Zethar reached for the flap and motioned her inside.

  An empty bowl hit the wall a foot to her right even as Xerxes shouted, “How many times must I say no one is to come in, Zethar?”

  She must be mad—she had missed this. “Only once more—I am his last resort.”

  “Kasia.” He spun to her with surprise on his face. “Which side will you take, then? That I should not have dishonored my uncle by sending him home, or that I never should have let him come at all?”

  She entered his tent for the first time in months. In here was no fog. No shadow. She moved to him and rested her arms on his chest, her eyes closing in bliss. “You miss him already?”

  A beat of silence, then a breath of a laugh as his arms closed around her. “It will not be the same without his anxious frowns. Which seemed like a good thing at the time—but now who will check me?”

  She opened her eyes again and grinned. “Shall I take a seat on your council? The one beside Artemisia, perhaps, so that the females can bolster one another.”

  He chuckled and ran a hand slowly, gloriously up her back. “She bought her seat with five ships and a tyranny. What do you bring to give your advice credence?”

  “Your heart.” It nearly came out as a question, but she forced her tone to hold steady.

  He rewarded her with a smile that knit together a few pieces of her being. “An unfair advantage against the rest of my advisors—I am afraid I cannot let you use that in matters of war. You ought to have let me give you a few cities. You could have rallied men from them and earned a command.”

  “Ah, missed opportunities.” She snuggled against him. At least she was not missing this one, had not let her fear keep her from coming with Zethar.

  He hummed into her hair and danced his fingertips down her back again. Were she a feline, she would have purred. “I have barely seen you since we left Troy,” he murmured.

  “You have been avoiding me—not once did you come ride with me.”

  She looked into his face and saw a struggle, quickly resolved. He sighed. “I was still confounded by that fear that swept through my army—and why in the world every child within a mile came to you before it struck.”

  Only the ones young and innocent enough to hear the whisper of Jehovah, but old enough to guide their nurses. She smiled at the memory of rapt little faces.

  He tugged on a piece of her hair. “You have been avoiding me as well. Not once have you shared a meal with me.”

  It was her turn to sigh. “I did not want to watch.”

  His brows drew together. “Watch what?”

  “You charming Lalasa’s and Diona’s servants.”

  He put his hands on her shoulders and set her back a few inches. “You are jealous of slaves? When you never were of the other wives?”

  Her gaze fell to the heavy chain of gold around his neck. “I know. Perhaps it is because I knew I would share you with your other wives. I did not realize . . .” She bit her lip and shook her head. “And I never had to be jealous before. Before, I was your favorite.”

  “Lovely Kasia.” He cupped her face, lifting it up. She blinked away tears. It had been so long since he had called her that. “The slaves are nothing—I accept them only out of kindness to the concubines, who apparently weary of my demands.” A smile teased his mouth. “I have been too hard on them. I want them to be you, and they never are.”

  She could be her, if only
he would let her. “I am sorry I have avoided you, my love.”

  “As I am. No more, hmm? Otherwise I may send some other unfortunate relation home in disgrace, until I am left with only my own wisdom.”

  She smiled. And when he lowered his head, she strained up to meet him, curled her arms around him. The heat of the kiss fused their lips together and brought life pounding through her again—the glory of it gave her wings.

  All too soon he broke away with a moan. “You ought to go.”

  “No.” She held him tighter and trailed her lips down his jaw. “Let me stay. Please, Xerxes. I cannot go on like this. Let me stay. Let me live tonight.”

  “Kasia . . .”

  She pressed closer and nipped at his ear. “Do you not know how I have missed you?”

  “Until these last few days, we were beside each other half the day.” The insistence was weak.

  “But there was always someone else on your other side.” She ran her nose down his neck. “I have missed touching you.”

  His heart galloped against his chest. “You have touched me.”

  “Not like this. It has been like that first week after we met—I have dreamt of you every night, but awakened to realize I could not have you.”

  His hands settled on her hips. “You will drive me to insanity, woman.”

  “Fair enough—I will go with you.” She pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat.

  “Kasia.” The impatient twitch of his fingers promised pleasure, but his face still showed an unresolved will. “I know you want a child—”

  “It is not about a child.” She met his gaze so he could see that in her eyes, then kissed his lips softly. “It is about you. I want you, Xerxes, nothing more.”

  “It is not that simple.”

  “Why not?” She forced her fingers to relax so that she might sweep them over his broad shoulders, down his chest, around his back. If she had to use every weapon of the senses to prevail, then so be it. She could not spend another night with nothing but dreams of him for company. “If you want no risk of a child, then just hold me. Let me kiss you.”

  The passion was there, smoldering in his eyes. “Kissing you is never enough, my love.”

  “But ignoring me is?”

  There—capitulation. “Ignoring you has been torture. The less I have you, the more I want you.”

  Anticipation shot up her spine. “What, then?”

  His mouth quirked up into the grin she loved, even as he swept her into his arms. “I suppose I shall have to show you.”

  Twenty-Three

  Xerxes awakened slowly, reluctant to relinquish the perfect dream. A warm body nestled behind him, but when consciousness got hold of him, he would no longer be able to fool himself into thinking it Kasia.

  His eyes flew open, his senses went on alert. Curse and praise battled for a place on his tongue—he was a fool all right, one who ought to wish it a dream. Who knew what penalty the god would exact for this, but so help him . . . he rolled over, his breath catching in his throat. Hopefully the god would credit him for trying.

  A smile won dominion of his mouth as he settled in again, his ear against Kasia’s chest so he could hear the patient rhythm of her heart. Last night it had raced, swifter than any ship in the fleet.

  He trailed a hand up her leg and tried to focus his mind on the coming day rather than the night past. There was much to do. Deliver the planned speech to his command, asking for their total dedication before they crossed into Europe. Then the first of them would put foot to bridge.

  Kasia’s fingers feathered through his hair and her breath hitched, released. “Am I dreaming again?”

  He chuckled and propped himself up. Her eyes were clear and bright again, her smile at the ready. He leaned over to kiss her. “I never meant to hurt you, my love. I only want to protect you.”

  She turned onto her side and draped an arm around him. “Will you try to banish me again?”

  “I never banished you.” He smiled at the arch of her brows. “Fine, call it what you like. And no. I cannot. Not anymore.”

  “Good. Because if you tried it, I would sneak in and kiss any objections away.”

  “I am surprised you did not try it before.”

  The shadows flickered through her eyes again, and he silently cursed himself. She rested her head against his arm and pulled in a long breath. “What of your fears?”

  “They are still valid.” He sighed and traced his fingers over her back. “I sent my uncle home for letting fears rule him. I may be a hot-headed fool, but I try not to be a hypocrite.”

  “Good.” She moistened her lips and met his gaze again. “I dreamt of a child last night. A little girl, born when we get back to Susa.”

  He may turn into Artabanas yet—fear iced through him, threatening to paralyze. He swallowed it down. “Such dreams are expected, my love. The wishes of your heart, combined with the day’s events. Nothing more.”

  Her eyes shuttered and her muscles tensed. “My dreams are not allowed to mean anything, though you have mustered millions based on yours?”

  He sighed. “I have never heard of a dream prophesying a girl-child.”

  “Of course not.” She pulled away and sat up, each movement an angry jerk. “History only records such things if the child goes on to greatness, and women matter little.”

  “Kasia—”

  “You read the history of men. Women hear different tales, ones passed down from mother to daughter. I would not be the first to dream of a female child that is new in the womb.” She looked around and grabbed her chiton. “Perhaps Jehovah sends the dreams when he knows his daughters need encouragement.”

  His jaw tightened, but he forced it open. “Look at me.”

  It took her several moments to obey.

  Xerxes drew in a long breath. “You find comfort in your Jehovah, and in spite of your claims last night, you obviously desire a baby. I can stop neither, though both could anger my god.”

  “I am not afraid of—”

  He held up a hand. “If you want to take your place beside me again, you will obey me in this. I cannot keep you from praying. I cannot stop a child from growing inside you, not as long as I keep you in my bed. But you will speak of neither. I will not tempt the god.”

  She pulled the garment over her head. “Why do you cling to faith in a god you think you can fool with silence?”

  He stood too. “I will have your word on this, Kasia.”

  Her gaze focused on nothing, her chest heaved. Would she refuse? Had those claims of needing only him last night been a ploy to get back into his bed for the sake of a child?

  Her shoulders sagged, and she turned into his chest. “You will have my silence. But both Jehovah and a growing child speak for themselves.”

  “I will deal with that if it arises.”

  She tilted up a face filled with challenge. “When.”

  Infuriating woman. How had he ever mistaken her for compliant?

  And why did he love her more today than ever before?

  ~*~

  Doriscus Fortress, Thrace

  Kasia rolled over but could not find the heat she sought. Refusing to open her eyes just yet, she reached out . . . and found nothing but pillows. With a sigh, she gave in and looked for her husband. “Xerxes, what in the world are you doing?”

  He was already dressed and stood in the middle of the chamber, an assortment of tablets on the table before him. He smiled at her over his shoulder. “Just reviewing the numbers.”

  A chuckle tickled her throat. “I doubt they have changed since yesterday. Come back to bed.”

  “I cannot rest, I am too eager to be on our way.” He turned back to the table, mumbling, “One million, seven hundred thousand men. Amazing.”

  She rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her mouth. “Do not forget the twelve hundred seven triremes.” She sat up and stretched, knowing she could not sleep with him counting in the lamplight. A shame—it was their last night in the bed she had e
njoyed this week.

  “Oh, I have not forgotten. You know, adding together the men in the fleet and those on land, it is well over two million. If we were to count all the servants and support peoples as well . . . surely it would be more than five.”

  She suspected some of the numbers had been inflated, but she would not be the one to tell him so. Slipping her garment on, she stood—and immediately regretted it. The flip of her stomach rivaled the acrobats that had performed for them last night. “Oh.”

  Xerxes spun to face her, frowning. “Are you ill?”

  Frustration churned along with the nausea. “It is nothing.” Nothing he would let her speak of. He would storm out if she dared mention that sickness generally started at this point in a pregnancy.

  “You barely touched your food last night, so perhaps you are only hungry. Zethar brought in fruit and bread if you would like some.”

  Suddenly aware of the yeasty scent of the fresh loaf, she dashed to the corner to wretch into the waste pot.

  Xerxes’ silence pounded at her when she rose again. He stood like a statue, his face set in an expression of hard denial. Then he spun back to his tablets.

  Well, if he was so bent on calculations, he could do this one and realize the symptoms were right on cue for her to have conceived at Abydus. He probably had already, otherwise he would be concerned rather than silent. How long would he ignore it? Did he not realize the fear could be better dealt with together?

  It seemed she had only managed to secure half her marriage. He still would not talk to her about anything that mattered. Troops and surrenders, landscapes and acquaintances. Nothing more.

  She wiped her mouth on a rag. In some ways, half a marriage was better than the echo she had had since Sardis. The fog stayed at a distance. But the shadows—the shadows seemed to creep a little closer each time she had to close her mouth on her faith.

  Dear Jehovah, let not my heart cost me my soul.

  Xerxes tossed a tablet down with a thwack. “Zethar! Rouse everyone, and let us get an early start. I tire of dawdling.”