Jewel of Persia

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Jewel of Persia Page 42

by White, Roseanna M.

“Kasia.” The scroll fell to the table as he vaulted from his seat. Pleasure lit his eyes, though it was underscored with caution. “I did not think you would come.”

  She took a single step toward him. “Life is too short to waste it on unforgiveness.”

  The caution gave way to joy. And teasing. “But I have only had a week to prove my steadfast devotion.”

  She pressed her lips down on the grin and took another step. “Was it a long, torturous week?”

  Xerxes sidled toward her. “The longest, most torturous in history. Made the longer and more torturous because it came after two months without you.”

  She sped across the room and threw herself into his arms. He held her close, then closer, and buried his face in her hair. “You have really forgiven me?”

  “I will not lie, Xerxes. Things will never be the same. But that does not mean they cannot be different, even better.” She pressed her lips to his neck and breathed in the scent of him, incense and myrrh. “I could have given up my love for you—but what, then, would be the point to life?”

  He left a trail of kisses along her jaw, ending on her lips in one both sweet and fiery. “Whatever made you realize that, I am grateful.”

  She felt a nudge within her spirit and dragged in a fortifying breath. “It was one of the new brides. Esther. She has known much sorrow in her life—but as I encouraged her to open her heart to you, I realized I must do the same.”

  “I have never met her, and already I am in her debt.”

  “You will like her. I think she and I will be great friends.”

  His lips moved along the other side of her jaw. “Mmm. Good. You have arranged a nurse for Zillah tonight?”

  “Yes, though if I stay all night, I will get very uncomfortable.”

  His hands slid down her back, anchored on her hips. “Then when you must go, I shall go with you. You are mine tonight, my love.” He pulled away enough to grin. “Though I suppose I shall share you with our princess.”

  “Very generous of you.” She tugged his head down so she could kiss him again. Soon enough she would have to share him too—but not tonight.

  ~*~

  Kasia spotted them before any servant found her in the gardens to tell her they were there. They moved with trepidation, uncertainty screaming from the curl of their shoulders and the way they gripped each other’s hands.

  Hers shook. They had come. Abba and Ima had come. Zech stood behind them, satisfaction tugging up his mouth. Her joy was too consuming to leave room for satisfaction.

  Kasia handed Zillah to Xerxes and took off at a run. “Abba! Ima!”

  Her mother moved first, leaping away from husband and son to meet her halfway. When their arms closed around each other, Kasia finally felt as though she had come home. “Oh Ima, how I missed you.”

  “Kasia, my baby.” Ima squeezed her tighter—her tears dripped onto Kasia’s shoulder. “You have never left my thoughts.”

  “Nor you, mine. Especially lately, now that I am an ima too.”

  “Your next time I will be here.”

  “Yes, next time.” She buried her head into the crook of Ima’s neck and smiled.

  “Daughter.”

  She pulled back and turned toward Abba. He had stopped a few steps away. His face bore a few more lines, his hair a few more grays than she remembered. But it was still Abba. The stubborn jaw, the strong build. Regret and longing colored his brown eyes.

  Instead of flying, she moved to him with slow, measured steps. He held out his arms as his jaw quivered. Caught up in his embrace a moment later, such contentment rushed through her that it took her a moment to notice Xerxes had joined them. He greeted Ima as if she were his own mother, jested with Zechariah.

  “I have missed you, my daughter,” Abba murmured into her hair. “I hope you know that each piece of furniture we made for you, we crafted with love as much as hammer and chisel.”

  “I know, Abba.” But it did not escape her notice that none of her other siblings had come along.

  She may be Abba’s daughter once again, but still he would not let her be a sister. In spite of all that had changed, some things had not.

  Forty-Four

  One year later, in the seventh year of the reign of Xerxes

  Xerxes laughed as Zillah wobbled on her chubby legs and then plopped onto Chinara’s lap. The elder of his daughters grinned and tickled the baby, who squealed with delight. Was there anything better than a stolen hour with his two favorite girls?

  Their mothers swayed into view, and Kasia cast him a warm smile.

  Perhaps there was one thing better. “Are you two back already?”

  Jasmine chuckled and held out a hand to Chinara. “Afraid so. My parents will be joining us for the meal. Come, Chinara.”

  The seven-year-old made no objections. Perhaps because she knew her grandparents always arrived with presents.

  “Goodnight, Father.” She pranced over to give him a kiss and a squeeze, then dashed to her mother.

  “Goodnight, Chinara. Goodnight, Jasmine.”

  Kasia bade them farewell too and scooped up Zillah. Pressing a kiss to the girl’s cheek, she came to settle beside Xerxes on his couch. “And you are still dining with us?”

  “I am.” When Zillah wiggled back down to the floor, he slid an arm around Kasia and pulled her to his side. “And then I shall hide myself away here for the night so that I might not have to deal with anymore of this Greek business.”

  She smiled but shook her head. “You certainly will not. Another of your potential queens will come to you tonight, as you know very well.”

  Xerxes groaned and let his head fall onto the back of the couch. “I have surely already dealt with twenty of them.”

  “You have met ten.”

  Ten of the most ambitious young women he had ever beheld. They were beautiful, they were well trained. But Hegai and Kasia could not give them the proper spirit. “I am not in the mood. I shall tell Hegai—”

  She gave him a playful punch. “You will not. Tonight is Esther’s turn.”

  “Ah. Your friend.”

  “My friend. You will like her, Xerxes. Not only is she more beautiful than the others, she is sweet and loving, obedient yet strong. She will be perfect.”

  “Well, if you want me to be fair to her, you had better improve my mood.” He wiggled his brows and dug a finger into her side to make her squeal.

  She obliged, jerked away, even jumped up so he could chase her. He tackled her onto her bed with a laugh and pulled the giggling Zillah into the heap as well. Yes, this was what he needed. A reminder that life continued after Mardonius’s army returned defeated from Europe. He held wife and daughter close and took a moment to savor the simplicity of life with them.

  The longer he ruled, the more lands he owned, the smaller the world he cared about. He cared no longer about Europe, about satrapies or provinces. His family was enough. Yet still he must rule and rule well. He must secure a legacy for that family.

  Haman understood, though he was the only one. The only one who would quietly take care of the business of the empire that Xerxes did not want to be bothered with. The only one who encouraged him to slip away now and then for a rejuvenating hour with Kasia and Zillah.

  He enjoyed his hour with them now, the simple food Kasia ordered, the babe’s attempts to wrap her little tongue around “Father.” Kasia laughed and encouraged her to say “Abba” instead, but he must put his foot down somewhere. “Try as you might to make me one, lovely Kasia, I am not a Jewish man. I cannot answer to a Jewish name.”

  She grinned and whispered, “Say ‘Abba’” into Zillah’s ear again.

  Xerxed chuckled and stood. “I shall have a talk with yours next time he visits to ask him where he went wrong in teaching you obedience.”

  “He will be as clueless on the subject as you.” Kasia stood, Zillah on her hip, and tilted her face up for a kiss. “For which you ought to be grateful. Had I obeyed my father, we never would have met.”


  “A world I cannot imagine. Well, I suppose I must go receive this friend of yours. Though if you have changed your mind and want me to stay with you instead . . .”

  She gave him a little push toward the door. “You are ever determined to make the other women resent me, staying with me when you have promised them time.”

  “It makes them respect you. And let it be noted that you are literally pushing me into another woman’s arms.”

  She laughed and wrapped her free arm around his waist. Rested her mouth against his shoulder. “I love you.”

  He turned to give her a proper farewell. “I will see you in the morning. I love you both.”

  As he exited, she handed Zillah to Desma and turned to her prayer rug. He smiled and shook his head.

  The evening was warm and sweet-smelling, pleasant enough to tempt him to linger outside. But he could hear Kasia in his head, admonishing him for keeping a nervous bride waiting. He headed for his palace and only paused for a moment outside the door. Only dragged in one long breath. Only took a single minute to pray to Kasia’s God that this one be better than the last ten.

  Zethar gave him half a grin and opened the door.

  Usually his brides set a scene for him, arranged cushions and placed themselves just so upon them. A few fell asleep when he kept them waiting too long, occasionally he found one in a chair, once or twice weeping. But Kasia had, until now, been the only one he found at the window, looking out at the rest of the world.

  From the back, he could note her excellent figure, the long sweep of unadorned hair. As she turned, he could suck in a breath of appreciation over the beauty of her features.

  But they had all been beautiful.

  Her smile, though, held no pride. He stepped inside. “You are Esther?”

  She genuflected. “My lord.”

  Her gaze sought the ground before she seemed to remind herself to look up at him. He smiled. “Kasia tells me I will like you.”

  Her smile changed, went from polite to warm, and it transformed her face from beautiful to something far more. “She tells me I will like you too.”

  Kasia’s regard was mutual, then. That relieved an unnamed worry. “She was certainly right about your beauty—she assured me you surpassed the others in that regard.”

  The girl blushed and looked at the ground again. “Thank you, my lord. If I may confess, I forgot what a handsome man you are. I glimpsed you once, when I was a girl.” She shook herself, moistened her lips, and stepped forward with hands extended. Folded fabric rested upon them. “Hegai said we should all make you something. Kasia recommended this—she said you were in need of a new one.”

  He moved forward, slowly enough not to intimidate her. Accepting the gift, he opened it up and grinned. “A shawl. Yes, I am afraid my favorite has been lost to me.” And leave it to Kasia to recommend this. She could have made him a new one herself, but no. She would prefer the symbolism of having her choice of his next queen replace the garment from his previous one. “You are a talented weaver.”

  “Thank you.” Her voice shook.

  He touched a finger to her chin to urge her face up. “Are you scared, Esther?”

  “A bit nervous.” She smiled again, but it was not so bright as when she spoke of her friend.

  “And sad.” The sorrow deepened her eyes, as if providing a portal to the secrets of her heart.

  “Not sad, exactly, but . . . do you know what she thinks? Kasia? She thinks we will fall in love and she will have to step aside.” She blinked back tears and shook her head. “Yet still she has done all she can to mold me into the wife you will want, and I know she has told you only the good things about me.”

  She thought that? Foolish, selfless woman. He dropped his hand and arched his brows. “What do you think?”

  Esther focused her gaze somewhere around his throat. “You are my husband. And given all she has told me about you, I know I will care for you. I hope and pray you will care for me too—but I will never hurt her. I give you what I am, my lord. But I think everyone but her realizes that will never compete with what she is.”

  Compassionate, considerate . . . yet she clearly understood that no one would ever replace Kasia—even if Kasia did not. He took her hand. “About her, you have the right of it. No one can be Kasia—but no one else has to be.” He lifted her hand, kissed it, and smiled. “I think you and I shall get along quite nicely, that we will enrich each other’s lives and expand each other’s hearts.”

  Peace gleamed in the eyes she lifted to him. “I think we shall.”

  Kasia had been a fool if she really thought anyone, even as sweet a girl as Esther, could take his heart from her. But she had also been right. He had found his next queen.

  ~*~

  Esther pulled her robes tighter and rested her elbows on the bottom of the window. The first strokes of dawn painted fire on the horizon. Her first day as a wife, not just a faceless bride. Her first day of freedom in the palace.

  Kasia had promised to “introduce” her to Mordecai now, and joy surged through her at the thought. She had missed him beyond words. Missed his quiet wisdom, the sound of his unintelligible prayers. She had missed the short walks to Kish and Zillah’s house, the chaos of all their children. And yes, Zechariah. She had missed him too.

  Her gaze moved to the river for the tenth time in two minutes. She could just make out the figures doing mock-battle in the soft morning light. There must be twenty now, though their shapes blurred in the distance. Which figure was his?

  The anger had faded months ago, leaving in its place a pervasive resignation when she thought of him. She would always love him. How could she help it, when he was one of her oldest friends, the only man she had ever dreamed of until she married the king? But he was not hers. He had never been hers. And now she was no longer his.

  Large hands enveloped her shoulders. Esther started, then grinned. “Good morning.”

  Xerxes hummed sleepily and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Her insides reacted with a strange little flip. This was her husband, this man she barely knew. Already she liked him. She had enjoyed the long, languid night with him. She looked forward to getting to know him better.

  But Kasia was right—he could never be her first love. That part of her heart would forever reside there on the banks of the Choaspes, caught between sword thrusts and hurtling spears.

  “It is Kasia’s brother out there,” Xerxes murmured, apparently following her gaze. “Zechariah. I have watched him many a morning from this window, and he has the skill of the best Immortal.”

  A shudder coursed through her before she could stop it. “I have no heart for conflict.”

  He chuckled and rubbed at the tension in her neck. “Her brother was born for it. He has mustered quite the little army of Jews, which drives my friend Haman to insanity. He keeps begging me to put a stop to these daily drills, but I have forbidden anyone from interfering. Poor Zech is working off a broken heart. If this were taken away from him . . .”

  She forced her breathing to stay measured, even as his words struck her like a whip. Kasia had mentioned that Zechariah and—finally—her parents had visited several times, but she had not realized Xerxes and Zechariah actually knew one another.

  Her feet were on a thin line. Pray Jehovah she could keep her balance.

  “Well.” He slid his hands down her arms. “The servants will be in soon, and we must get ready. You will move into the queen’s quarters now, and the ceremony will take place this afternoon. I will declare a holiday tomorrow in your honor.”

  She spun, knowing her eyes were round as the full moon. “What?”

  His lips smiled. His eyes laughed. “Do you not think ‘Queen Esther’ has a pleasant sound?”

  Mordecai had said he had faith . . . Kasia had said it would be so . . . but deep inside she had never believed either of them, not really. She could hardly wrap her mind around his words.

  Her. Esther. Queen. “I . . . know not what to say. Is this simply beca
use Kasia recommended it?”

  “Would you refuse the crown if it were?” But he chuckled and shook his head. “Rather, my dear, she recommended it because she knew exactly what I needed in my next queen. A woman of beauty to stun the masses, yes. But also one of a sweet and caring spirit, who will be able to guide the harem with quiet wisdom. One who will put her own ambitions aside for the sake of her position and her kingdom. You are that woman.”

  There must be something wrong with her, that the very thing she had set out to achieve now terrified her when it was given her. “You have not even met the last girl . . .”

  “I do not need to. I called Hegai in last night while you slept—my last new bride is no better suited to the crown than the first ten. Only you, Esther.”

  If he really wanted a queen who was opposite Amestris, then she could see that. She nodded and drew in a long breath. “I am honored beyond words, my husband.”

  So long as she did not think of the deception. Of the ambitions that indeed hid within her . . . though really, those were vague, were they not? She only wanted to be in a position to help if necessary, which would never happen with the king so determined to support Kasia’s people. And the deception was really no more than silence for the sake of safety.

  She closed her eyes and praised Jehovah that she had been such a recluse in recent years. The only people who would recognize her were her own, and none of them would ever come to the palace. No Jew did but Mordecai.

  Her secret would be safe, and she would be queen.

  “Ah, there are the servants. Come, let us dress. We will tell Kasia before I make the announcement to the court.”

  She only cast one last look out the window before she obeyed.

  ~*~

  “What happened to practicing at night?”

  Zechariah jerked around, nearly dropping his spear at the once-familiar voice. A smile split his face. “Bijan! I did not know you were home.”

  “Just yesterday.” His friend came over and clapped him into a one-armed embrace. “I thought to catch you last night, but no one was out here. Luckily, a few questions in the right ears told me ‘that band of trouble-making Jews’ now gathered each morning for their mischief.”

 

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