Jewel of Persia

by White, Roseanna M.

Thirty-Two

  Susa, Persia

  Amestris crossed her arms and surveyed the masses of mourning Persians outside the walls. They rent their garments, wept, cried out in seeming agony. She shook her head at the theatrics and turned to her eunuch, newly returned from the city. “You would think we had been invaded. It is only one lost battle. Why do they carry on so?”

  The slave bowed his head. “They fear for the king, mistress. News of the loss has reached them all, but no word on your husband.”

  She grunted and spun away from the wall. If only she were so lucky as to be widowed—but if anything had happened to Xerxes, the message of defeat would not have been so vague.

  Ash drifted over the wall and made her sneeze. The idiot commoners were going too far to prove their distress. All over a man most of them had never seen but from a distance, that few had ever spoken to. If they knew him as she did, they would not be distraught.

  The world would be a better place when her son ruled, and she through him.

  Unease pounced onto her shoulders and drew her gaze toward the nearby gate. Her lips curled up when she spotted the Jew that represented his people. She could sense the demons that guarded him.

  She hurried away, back toward the women’s palace and her children. Perhaps one of the first things she ought to have Darius do when he took the crown was get rid of those troublesome Jews. She should not have to face the enemy of the god in her own home.

  ~*~

  Sardis, Lydia

  Darius watched her for a moment, then took stock of himself. For three weeks he had fought it, had tried to tell himself it was only a passing lust, that it was too great a risk. He had even tried to refocus his thoughts on Artaynte.

  Nothing worked. Each time he saw Kasia, it hit him anew. He must have her—and he was running out of time. Father would be back in three more weeks, and finding opportunities to be together then could prove difficult.

  Desire had never felt like this. Several of his lovers had gotten with child over the years, and seeing their rounded stomachs had always cooled his passion. Yet he never even remembered Kasia’s condition unless she mentioned some symptom. With them, he had at once tried to be sensitive and yet cared little what they thought, what they wanted. With Kasia, he found himself craving her opinion, longing to hear her speak. Time and again he had sought her out, just to pass the time in conversation. He told himself he did it for her, to help her fend off loneliness.

  He knew better.

  She had been her old self these past weeks, the anger gone. Perhaps a sorrow lurked in her eyes, but she had been laughing again. Eyes bright. Passion for life pulling her taut as a bow ready to loose its arrow.

  He was helpless against his longings.

  The afternoon sun burned bright but lacked warmth, and Darius pulled his shawl higher. Kasia sat at her son’s grave, beside the withering sunflowers. Pythius had passed an hour with her, but Darius had kept out of sight until the old man left again. He must make her his offer, but he would do it carefully. She would want no one to know.

  Drawing in a long breath, Darius stepped away from the wall and forced confidence into his step. His nerves frayed and sizzled, as if he had never approached a woman before. But then, he had never tried to seduce one of his father’s wives. Never had his heart been at stake.

  She looked up at his approach and smiled. His pulse raced. Did she know what she did to him? She must. It was no great secret that she and his father enjoyed a passionate union, she was no stranger to the reactions of men.

  He smiled back. “Good afternoon, Kasia. How are you feeling today?”

  “Well.” She reached out to have her maid help her to her feet. “And you, prince?”

  He could only nod, his throat dry as she smoothed her garment over her hip. “Are you up for a walk?”

  How could her eyes brighten even as her smile softened? “That sounds perfect. My legs were beginning to tingle.”

  Yes, surely she knew what she did to him. And if she did not mean to encourage him, she would not say such things. He darted a glance at the four servants surrounding her. “Alone, if you please? I have some things to discuss with you that are of the most sensitive nature.”

  She arched a brow even as her head eunuch stepped forward, with a muted, “Mistress, no.”

  Why did she suffer such impudence from her slaves? Yet she grinned at the beast. “Theron, it is only Darius, and we will not walk far. Stay within sight, if that will make you feel better.”

  Not exactly what Darius had hoped, but it would do. He offered his arm, and she set her hand lightly on the inside of his elbow. Once they were out of earshot of her slaves, he drew in a long breath. “You have seemed much happier these last few weeks.”

  One of those small, intoxicating smiles teased the corners of her lips. “I have put some things to rights within my soul.”

  “I am glad. Getting to know you has been very precious to me.”

  The smile bloomed full, and she cast him a warm glance. “To me as well. It is funny, Darius. In some ways you remind me of your father, and in others of Zechariah.”

  Who was Zechariah? He tried to remember if she had mentioned him before, but nothing came to mind. Was it . . . perhaps her lover? It would make sense if she had found a Jewish man in the ranks to comfort her when Father kept her at arm’s length.

  It hardly mattered. He chuckled because she expected it, and deliberately led her over a bumpy patch so that she would sway closer to his side. Ah, she smelled so fresh and feminine. “And you remind me of no one—there is no other woman in all of the empire quite like you.”

  Her laugh sounded dry. “I suspect you are right on that count.”

  “I am.” He halted, the pulse pounding through him forbidding any longer delay. “Kasia, there is none to compare to you. I have always thought you one of the most exquisite creatures to be found. But since we have become friends . . . you have stolen my heart. I—”

  “Stop.” She pulled her hand from his arm and took a quick step away. Those spell-binding eyes shone with panic. Understandable. An affair with him would not be as simple as one with some random Jewish soldier. She shook her head. “You must not say such things, Darius. I am your father’s wife and—”

  “I love you.” He closed the distance again.

  She held up a hand. “No. No, you love Artaynte. You have loved her for years, you cannot just fall in love with another in the course of a month.”

  He caught her hand, pressed it to his chest. “I never knew her, she never let me. But you—you have always been so open, so honest. I have seen your heart, and I love you for it.”

  She tugged on her fingers. Were those tears burning her eyes? “Please do not say such things, Darius, I beg you. Let us forget this conversation—”

  “Forget it? I cannot. I know you care for me—”

  She blinked the tears away, and a hint of anger replaced them. Ah, such fire. How could he help but fall for her? No other woman would dare to give him a little push as she reclaimed her hand. “Care, yes, just as I care for my brothers. But I am in love with your father—your father, Darius—and you shame us all by even thinking such things.”

  “I realize he holds the greatest portion of your heart. But that did not stop you from finding your pleasure elsewhere before, so why should it now?”

  Her palm connected with his cheek without warning. The sting was sharp—yet for some reason, it amused rather than angered him.

  “How dare you!” She seethed, as if she had not already confessed to infidelity. Then she pivoted, tried to spin, but her foot caught on a rock.

  Darius scooped her up before she could fall to the hard ground. And once he held her in his arms, what was he to do but dip his head and claim her lips?

  Kasia morphed into a tigress and flailed her way out of his arms, her cheeks stained red. Yet when her dog charged up, she stopped him with a stern command.

  Darius grinned. “Come, my sweet,” he said in the voice that
always worked on other girls. “Why pretend innocence when you have already confessed to betraying my father?”

  The color drained from her face. “For my God, Darius. I chose Jehovah over him, not some other man. I would never go to another. Never.”

  Her eunuch arrived, seething, and Darius rolled his eyes. “Call off your beasts, Kasia. You know very well if either of them attacked me, it would be their deaths. You cannot want that.”

  Her jaw ticked. “Theron, take Zad back to Desma.”

  “Mistress—”

  “Darius will not hurt me.” She searched his eyes, as if not sure of her own words. “Would you?”

  She might as well have pierced him with the slave’s dagger. “How can you even ask? I love you.”

  “Stop saying that!” She raked her hair out of her eyes and watched the eunuch pull the dog away. “We will never be anything but friends.”

  “Why? Because of my father?” He edged closer, slowly. Yes, she retreated, but that was fine. She backed herself right up against the wall and then had nowhere to go. “You said yourself he will sentence you to anonymity in the harem. Is that what you want? A life devoid of passion?”

  Her chin rose. “If that is what he decides, then so be it. Still I will love him and remain true.”

  “For how long?” He boxed her in, breathed in her scent. “I can bring you both excitement and steady adoration. Perhaps he will even turn a blind eye and—”

  “This is absurd.” Unable to move away, she straightened her spine. “How can you in good conscience make such an offer? I am even now carrying your sister!”

  “It makes the timing perfect, really. There would be no consequences now. It would give us time to come up with a more permanent arrangement.”

  Her eyes flashed, and her hands landed on his chest. She intended to shove him away again, he knew, but he could not let her escape so easily. It would only take a kiss. One thorough, honest kiss. And she would be his.

  ~*~

  Haman watched the prince tug the Jewess close, cover her mouth with his. She fought against him, but Darius seemed not to notice.

  Artaynte did not seem to either. A cry of alarm whispered from her throat, and her hand covered her mouth. Eyes awash, she spun around. “Excuse me, Haman. I cannot—I must—” She dashed away.

  Haman let her go. He did not want to see the girl hurt, but what good would it do to shelter her from Darius’s nature? The prince would be just like his father and uncles, always wanting whatever lovely face he did not already own. And because he was the prince, the heir, he could take whomever he pleased.

  Even the Jewess. She may fight, but her strength would fail. And her servants would not dare step in, or their lives would be forfeit. Darius would be her undoing. With any luck, she would get herself killed at his hand—but if not, it would be enough to ruin her forever in Xerxes’ eyes. He would not want her when she had been in another’s arms.

  Indulging in one chuckle, Haman turned to retrace his steps through the garden.

  ~*~

  Kasia kicked Darius in the shin and would have kneed him in the groin had he not released her. By the time Theron surged her way again, Darius stood a step away.

  She poked a furious finger into his chest. “Touch me again, and the king will have to find himself another heir.”

  He had the audacity to grin. “And you wonder why I love you?”

  Perhaps in another situation, she would have been amused at how like Xerxes he was. Not now. She stepped to the side of her servant and glared at the prince.

  Darius sighed. “I will be here when you change your mind.”

  “I will not.”

  “We shall see.” He touched his finger to his lips and ambled away.

  Theron put a steadying arm around her. “Mistress?”

  “I will be all right, Theron.” Yet tears veiled her vision, and she sagged against him.

  She had just lost the one friend she had left in her husband’s house.

  Thirty-Three

  Xerxes dug his heels into his horse’s flanks. For forty-five long days he had kept his pace steady, knowing the world watched his retreat. He would not give the Greeks the satisfaction of thinking they chased him home—but his soul had strained toward Sardis. Now that it was within sight, he could curb himself no longer.

  A horse approached from the city, and Xerxes smiled when he saw Haman upon it. He called out a greeting as his friend neared.

  Haman fell in beside Xerxes. “Greetings, master. We have all been anxiously awaiting your return.”

  “All?” Did he dare hope? He had to. Yet fear shadowed him. “What of your charge?”

  Haman shrugged. “Who can know the mind of a woman? She does not seem so angry lately, but then, your son may have cajoled her out of her temper.”

  His throat closed. “Darius?”

  “Mm. Everyone else was wary of befriending an enemy of the god, but the prince took her under his wing. They have become . . . rather close.” Something cold and wary sparked in Haman’s eyes. “You may want to speak to them about that.”

  No. He trusted her. Even in her anger, she would not succumb to adultery—it went against everything her God advocated.

  Although his son he was not so sure of.

  He shook it off and urged his horse a little faster. “How is her health?”

  “Well enough, I imagine. She spends most of her days out of doors, at the grave of her son.” Haman lifted a brow. “If you ask me, such behavior denotes an unhealthy mental state.”

  Xerxes chuckled. “You just admitted you do not know her thoughts, so forgive me for ignoring your judgment on her mental state.”

  His friend sighed and looked over his shoulder. “Your brother is with you?”

  “Directly behind. Go find him, I will ride ahead.”

  He focused on the looming walls of the citadel. Another minute and he would be there. Two months’ separation over at last. If he had a god left to petition, he would have sent up a prayer that Kasia receive him.

  Instead, he concentrated on closing the distance, then nudged his steed toward the grave. Hopefully she would be there. If not, he would take a moment to pay his respects to their son, then search her out inside.

  The collection of figures he spotted was encouraging. Yes, it was Theron standing with folded arms beside the tree, so that must be Kasia sitting with her back to him.

  She turned her head—his breath caught when he saw that beautiful profile. He swung off his horse.

  Kasia pushed to her feet, and Xerxes swore his heart stopped. Would she flee? Turn her back on him again?

  She rushed toward him, naked affection on her face. For the first time since the day of darkness, total peace blanketed his spirit. He ran forward. “Kasia.”

  “Xerxes.” She flew into his arms, burying her face in his chest. “My love.”

  He could not hold her tight enough, could not take in all the sensations. The fragrance of her hair, the feel of her arms around his waist, of their babe nudging him in the stomach. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “My darling. Say you still love me. Say you forgive me.”

  She tilted her head back, and he lost himself in the simmering heat of her eyes. Though she did not smile, he knew her answer before she opened her mouth. “I love you always. I forgive you. And I pray you forgive me.”

  Unable to help himself, he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “You have done nothing wrong. I am the one who acted the arrogant fool, who lost sight of what mattered. I am so sorry, my love. The things I said, the things I asked of you—”

  “And I am sorry.” She pressed her lips together, tears welling in her eyes. “I obeyed you when I should not have. Jehovah bade me pray for you, and I refused.”

  He could barely force a swallow. That proved her anger more than anything else could have. “You despised me.”

  “I was angry.” She focused her gaze on his chest, nostrils flaring. “I later learned that was the day the spy came to
you, to convince you to attack the Greeks at sea. Perhaps if I had prayed, one of the Lord’s messengers could have whispered a warning in your ear.”

  He saw again that flash of light, snuffed out by darkness. Was it possible? Had one of her Jehovah’s angels tried to reach him, only to be stopped by Ahura Mazda’s? Had it been her prayers all along that made the difference?

  Resting his forehead on hers, Xerxes closed his eyes. “I will never again ask you not to pray to your God.”

  “And I would never again obey you, even if you did.” A smile colored her words. Then her fingers fisted in his tunic. “It must have been awful, for you to give up the battle after one day.”

  He lifted his head so that he might meet her gaze. “All my advisors said I should have mounted another attack. But it ceased to matter. I only wanted you. Besides.” He smiled and moved a hand to her stomach, where the babe continued to make her presence known. “Had I delayed much longer, we would not have been able to make it back to Susa before our daughter joins us. And that was your dream, was it not?”

  The tears made her eyes glisten like sardonyx. “We still have two months before she is due.”

  “It will take us nearly one to get home, and I know you will be uncomfortable at the end of your time. I would have you resting at the palace for the last weeks.”

  She nestled against him, her lashes a black fan against her cheeks. “I have missed you so.”

  “Oh, Kasia.” He cinched his arms around her and closed his eyes on the rest of the world. “You are the most important thing to me. The god was none too pleased—he came in a dream again, threatened to destroy you and all your people, to undo me through my wives if I chose you over him.”

  He opened his eyes again and found her gazing up at him, agape. “Yet you are here.”

  “I am here.”

  She swallowed. “Even though I chose Jehovah over you.”

  “Jehovah preserves your life, protects you, ministers to your soul.” He shook his head and urged her to move to his side so they could meander toward the citadel. “My god works through darkness and fear. I have had enough of that. I want only you, and will trust that your Jehovah can fend off the anger of Ahura Mazda.”