“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.” Sh
e 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.”
She nodded, lifted the hair from her brow. “I cannot quite grasp it. I had hoped she and Zechariah . . .”
“Nearly. You will have ample time to speak to her of that, I suspect. And for that matter, your brother will be by the palace next week with deliveries.” He sent her a pointed look. “You ought to speak with him of it too. And perhaps give him a good wallop for the behavior that led to their break.”
“Oh dear.” Her hands moved to her cheeks, then fell. “I have missed so much of their lives.”
“And we of yours. Do your parents know you are home? That you have a daughter?”
“A message was sent, but I have heard nothing back.”
He nodded. He would speak to Kish as soon as he got home, do his best to convince his friend to relent. He pushed to his feet. “I ought to go. Seeing you are well . . . it is the best gift I have received in many years.”
“Now that it will not mean breaking my father’s trust, I will seek you out. Update you.”
He nodded, turned. And grinned. “I think someone will have to lead me out of here.”
“I will.” One of the eunuchs stepped forward, though it earned a strange look from Kasia. She waved them on, though, and headed the opposite way.
The eunuch waited until they were out of her hearing range before saying, “I usually refuse to leave her side—whenever I must, I regret it. But I wanted to speak to you.”
“Of course. You serve her out of love.”
He drew in a deep breath and motioned Mordecai down a path to his right, near the fountains. “Many love her—more hate her, and the influence she has over the king. Threats hide everywhere.”
“And you want to be sure I am not another.”
His companion smiled. “I can see you are not. More than once I heard her beseeching Jehovah to rally other Jews to prayer. You seem to be the one those requests started with.”
He was useful, then. “It warms me to realize that.”
“She has never spoken of this Esther to us—your daughter?”
“My cousin. I raised her as a daughter. She and Kasia were the closest of friends, though your mistress is four years the elder.”
“Desma spoke for us all. We will serve her, and hence you and your daughter, in this. You have my word on top of theirs.”
“I thank you for it.” And he could not help but smile. Perhaps this was not the way he had imagined their lives, but Jehovah obviously had it planned out.
Jehovah would see them through.
~*~
This was not the way life should be. His best friend dead, his queen and conspirator banished. Haman stood on the wall with arms crossed and looked out over Susa. Swarming everywhere were those worthless Jews, constant reminders of all he had lost. All his world had been whittled down to.
It was Kasia’s fault. Had she not sunk her claws into the king, then into his son, none of this would have happened. Amestris would not have gotten herself deposed and sent away. Masistes would still be alive.
Before she left for Persepolis, Amestris had told him to get rid of the witch and her people, no matter how long it took.
And so he would. He would be patient, he would be sly. He would send that harlot into the bosom of her precious Abraham and all her family and neighbors with her.
“Haman.”
He turned to face his king. Xerxes approached with a babe asleep in his arms. No need to wonder which wife it belonged to. He forced a smile, forced a warm tone. “Your newest daughter grows lovelier by the day.”
Let her grow lovely. Let her be the loveliest thing in the land—perhaps it would protect her when she was motherless.
“That she does.” Xerxes grinned, though it faded fast. “Haman, I have wanted to speak with you. My brother was your closest friend—you must be angry with me.”
Only an idiot would be angry with the king. Better to accept reality as it was . . . and change it when one could. “You did only what you must, master. He was always rash, always walked the line between pleasing you and provoking you—it was only a matter of time before he stumbled into a situation he could not grapple out of again.”
“True things—but fact never changes how we feel. If you wish for a position somewhere else, where you do not have to face me, you may have your pick. A satrapy, a governorship—”
“If it pleases the king, I would rather stay close to your side. You, too, have always been my friend. And I know you grieve as well.” The fault did not belong to Xerxes—Xerxes had done only what he must.
It was Kasia. It was all the Jews. And he would never find a way to rid Persia of them without Xerxes’ power behind him.
The king nodded, his face relieved. “I am glad. You were always a loyal friend. I hope, since you wish to stay, you will stay at my right hand.”
Haman did not have to force the smile this time. “There is no place I would rather be, my king.”
Forty-Two
Thanks to his fussing daughter, Xerxes had the rare opportunity to observe Kasia unnoticed. He watched her dash over to the cradle and pick up the baby, only to hurry back to the vanity when Desma scolded her with a smile. He saw the naked affection on her face when she soothed Zillah, the friendly, sheepish laugh she gave her maid.
Would she ever look at him with such love again? This past fortnight, she had been a ghost. Present but not—untouchable.
It was not like those months after the stillbirth, when grief and loneliness overcame her. Not like that at all—she was her same vibrant self now with everyone else. The same bright woman, full of passion and life.
Just not for him. Oh, she would put on a show when it was called for—she would smile, laugh, place her hand on his arm. But it was empty.
His gaze fell on the tell-tale torc. On her table, not her arm. She would put it on again before she left the room, he knew. But the second she regained this sanctuary, off it would come.
He was down to his last few ideas on how to stir her heart again. If he failed . . . he could not contemplate it. Could not imagine a life without her love.
He cleared his throat and took another step into her room. “You look stunning, my love.”
Her smile went tense, her shoulders square. “Thank you. I appreciate the new garments, though they were unnecessary.”
“And a small enough gesture.” He drew in a long breath and regarded her reflection, since she would not look at him. “Hegai tells me you will introduce yourself to the new brides this morning.”
“That was the council’s will, was it not? Though if you would prefer—”
“I am glad you are going. Though if you did not want to . . .” He winced. Had they resorted to this?
A month ago, that tight smile would have been a grin. “If one of these girls is going to rule me, I would just as soon know her beforehand, and offer my opinion of which of them it should be.”
“You could choose entirely, for all I care.”
“Xerxes.”
Well, reproach was better than indifference. “You are the only one I want, Kasia.”
She turned even her reflected gaze away.
He looked to her servants, then his own behind him. “Give us a moment.” Once they filed out, he crouched down before her. “Tell me why that upsets you. Is it that you do not believe me, or that you fear it is too true?”
At least she looked at him, showed him the churning of her mind, the uncertainty in her heart. “Both, if that is possible.”
He sighed and took her hand, though her fingers did not curl around his. “I am not a temperate man. You know that, and I dared to hope you loved me for it, not just in spite of it.”
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