Garden of Madness (31 page)

“Fear me. Or serve me.”
She did see it. At last she saw the wicked truth. She had thought to stave off evil by appeasing good gods, but the gods she worshipped were the very demons she feared.

Pedaiah’s hands on hers were warm. “Tia, there is only One True God. And He has shown Himself to you this night.”

“I have seen only terror.”

“But in the terror He has shown you truth.”

She pulled her hands from his. “How can I accept that everything I have been taught is false?”

“It requires faith, I know. But no more faith than what you have already given to the demons.” His gaze searched her face, so intense, so earnest. She wanted to lay her hand on his cheek.

“Then the magi—they are frauds?”

He smiled, a sad smile one gives an injured child. “Some know the truth, yes. They try to control the power, to understand it, all the while knowing that it controls them. Others are simply deceived, as you have been. They believe they serve the good, when they do not.”

“Shadir knows.” Tia thought of his cold, dead eyes, of the way she’d seen him bent over the burning figurine in the depths of the palace. “He knows whom he serves.”

“I have no doubt.”

She leaned toward him and whispered, “What must I do, Pedaiah? What must I do to be free of them?”

“You must claim the True God for your own. You must accept that atonement can only come through Him.”

“What if your God is no more a god than mine?”

“And what if He is?”

Tia looked away, to the table set for guests. It could not be so easy.

“Always the fighter, Tiamat. It is time to stop fighting.”

A burning at her throat brought her fingers to the amulet Amel had fashioned to protect her. Did she imagine its heat? Tia yanked the cord from her neck and threw it from her.

With any vital shift in thinking, in believing, there comes a moment when one knows the peak of unbelief has been crested, and a slide into a new truth is inevitable. Even now, she was falling, falling into a different sort of belonging, being gathered in. Desired and loved. She closed her eyes and let the truth wash over her, let go of falsity and fear. A repentance, broken and cleansing, opened wide her heart. A submission to a sovereign love she had never known broke that heart into pieces. And an acceptance of grace, of love, of salvation put the pieces back together.

Joy and tranquility flooded into what had been vacant, an unfamiliar peace like sunrise. Tia opened her eyes to Pedaiah’s strong and clear gaze, his knowing smile.

And then his hands were on her face and his smile only a breath away.

She pulled in a shaky breath and closed her eyes for his kiss. His fingers wrapped to the back of her neck and the kiss lingered, long enough for her blood to thrum in her ears and her breath to shallow.

When he pulled away, eyes shining, she felt as though she floated above them both, watching in amazement.

Did he know how much she loved him?

They talked then, of his homeland and his people, of Daniel and the young magi he was training in the ways of the Torah. Of this new God who had become her own.

But they must speak of the future, and in that, nothing had changed.

Tia traced the white scar on his chin with her finger. “I must marry the Mede. There is no other way.”

Pedaiah’s jaw tightened and his hand clenched hers. “I would take you far from here—”

“And then what? Shadir would kill my entire family and put Amel on the throne.”

Pedaiah stood and paced. “For all his selfishness and immaturity, I would not think Amel cruel. He seems to care for you. How could he be part of such a plot?”

“I am not certain he knows all. I think it likely he is only a useful source of power for Shadir.”

Pedaiah’s words sparked a new thought, and she sat forward. “Perhaps if I spoke with Amel—perhaps we could make an agreement.”

He faced her, scowling. “What sort of agreement?”

“If he will guarantee the safety of my family, I will not marry the Mede. I will marry Amel.”

Storm clouds passed over Pedaiah’s features.

She stood and grasped his hand. “Do you see? I can save both—my family and the kingdom! I must only get around Shadir and plead with Amel.”

“It is risky, Tia. He may not keep his word.”

“No, no, I will ensure it. There are too many secrets he would not wish known. I can convince him that my plan is best. A peaceful accession to the throne by the king’s own son and safety for my family.”

He exhaled, his gaze on their clasped hands, then slowly pulled his hand from hers. “Then I wish you the best in your new marriage, Princess.”

She heard the pain in his voice, felt it in her heart. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her forehead to his chest. “It is not what I want, Pedaiah. You must know this.”

He stood unmoving for only a moment, then clutched her to himself like a man drowning. “Tell me you love only me, Tia.”

“I love only you.”

He hid his face in her hair, pressed his cheek to her head.

“It is strange how things turn out, Pedaiah.”

“Hmm?” The words were muffled, his lips were against her hair now.

“I will keep the thing I believed mattered most to me—my position here in the palace, my luxuries—even though they are not rightfully mine. And I will lose the thing that truly matters—the freedom to love you.”

He sucked in a breath and clasped her tighter. “How can I let this happen?”

“You must.” Tia pushed away, held him at arm’s length. “Pray to your God for me. That He would protect me from the dark power against me.”

“He is your God now, Tia. You may speak your prayers yourself.”

This truth was hard to take in—that she now had the power of the One God to break the evil that had long kept her bound.

As if he could read her thoughts, Pedaiah whispered, “To run in the paths He has marked brings freedom and glory.”

She smiled, a watery, tearful smile that also held good-bye. He saw it for the ending that it was and touched her face a final time.

“Go in peace, Princess. You are loved.”

She had not heard those words in seven years. They fell on her like showers across the parched plains, and she soaked them in, precious and holy.

And then she left.

Pedaiah closed the door, closed his eyes, but would never again close his heart. Not to Tia. Not even if she married Amel and became queen. He would move far from the palace, perhaps, so he did not have to see her, but he would not give up loving her, now that he had seen that it was Yahweh who had given him this love, placed him in Tia’s life, then let him see the fruit it bore.

He stood at the door, forehead pressed against the wood as if it brought him closer to Tia, even as she left him behind to do what she must.

And into the empty places of his heart flooded a profound repentance, a breaking open of the hardened soil, and he fell to his knees before the door and bowed his head to the Holy One, who had patiently waited through his arrogance.

“Forgive me, Yahweh.” He breathed through the storm of emotion, trying to gain control. He did not want to concern his family. But his hypocrisy overwhelmed him, and his unloving and judgmental spirit toward those the Holy One called to Himself left him broken and weeping.

“You have placed us here for judgment, but also out of mercy. To be a lamp stand to the nations, a light. And with my anger and hatred I have brought nothing but darkness.”

And yet in His great mercy, Tia had seen light, had understood that Yahweh was to be her Father too. Not only Father to the Jews.

Pedaiah swiped at his face with the back of his hand and lifted his head. “Of all Your people, I should have seen how You graft the nations onto the root of Jesse.” Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, Bathsheba. “My own family line—a testament to Your far-reaching grace.”

He climbed to his feet, went to a wash basin, and poured water over his hands. “Forgive me, Yahweh,” he whispered again, splashing his face. “Make me clean in Your sight. Give me a heart to love those whom You love.”

It was a mystery, still, how to live among those who hated the One God and to love them without compromise. But it was also a truth, a calling, one he would pursue until the day he was called to his fathers.

And until then, until then he must find a way to live without Tia.

CHAPTER 36

Tia left pieces of herself in Pedaiah’s chambers. There could be no looking back. Though a curious and newfound peace accompanied her from that hallowed ground.

She took the corridors more slowly this time, forming her plan as she walked. Tomorrow’s Festival would not include the marriage her mother anticipated, but there would be a marriage. And two men needed to understand their roles.

The Median prince Zagros had spent most of his time in the palace courtyards surrounded by beautiful servant girls, lavish spreads of food, and music for dancing. She searched for such a party, but as it was early afternoon and too soon to begin celebrations that would last into the night, Tia learned he was in his assigned chambers.

“I would speak to Prince Zagros,” she said to the guard at his door, one of their own.

The guard, as young as herself, bowed his head briefly but his face twitched in indecision. “I believe the prince sleeps.”

“At this hour?”

“He—he was awake most of the night, my lady.”

She scowled. The embarrassed tone of the guard gave a glimpse into her promised life in the Median palace. “He will have to wake again, I am afraid. I must speak with him.”

The guard pushed into the chamber, and she gave him only a moment before she followed.

Zagros was propped on one elbow on the bed, rubbing his hand over his beard. His glance fell on Tia and his eyes widened before a grin split his face, revealing wine-purpled teeth. He eyed the guard and jerked his head toward the door. And then they were alone.

Zagros did not rise from the bed.

“I had not expected to see you in my chamber
before
the marriage ceremony, Princess.” He patted the bedcovering, an invitation. “I am most pleased.”

“Get up, Zagros. We must speak.”

His grin dropped away, replaced by a wary annoyance. “Speak of what?”

“Of our marriage.”

Zagros swung his legs over the side of the bed and pushed himself to standing. With a moan he half-stumbled and lashed out to grab the bed frame for balance. When he was righted, he loomed over Tia. She had forgotten their great difference in size. He reached for her, grabbed her arm, and dragged her to his chest. Ruddy cheeks bloomed above his beard and he smelled of soured wine.

“That is exactly the topic I would address.” The words were slurred, soft pebbles in his mouth.

She could not show fear, despite the danger. She yanked her arm from his grip. “You have come on a fool’s errand, Zagros. Been brought here through falsity and deception.”

His eyes sparked, awake and alert at last. “Who has been false?”

“Your cousin. My mother, the queen. She has led you to believe this marriage would be a treaty between Media and Babylon.” Tia lifted her chin, a proud defense against the humiliating words. “But I am no child of Babylon.”

Zagros shook his head, as though to disagree would be to negate the truth. “You are the king’s daughter.”

“I am not.”

She let the words penetrate his drink-induced stupor. “My mother conceived me outside her marriage to the king.”

He set his jaw and narrowed his eyes. “I do not care. The people believe—”

“If you and she force me into this marriage, I will make the truth known to all of Babylon, and word will certainly be carried to Media. You will be painted as a fool—coming all this way, laying out so much expense, all for the daughter of an unfaithful wife.”

Zagros’s eyes went dark. “Then who is your father?”

The question caused a strange, convulsing stricture in her chest.

I do not know
.

She had been so fractured by the truth that the man she loved was not her father, she had given little thought to whose daughter she was. She fought to loosen the tightness around her heart.

“He is of no consequence. What matters now is that you and I come to an agreement.”

He wobbled a bit, then sank to the bedding, an odd expression crossing his face. Fear?

Tia inhaled, ready to explain her hastily conceived plan. “You will be paid well. You must leave this night, before tomorrow’s festival activities begin. You will leave word that you found the king’s daughter to be too—strong-willed—for your liking and did not believe she would make a proper Median queen. In this we both save face, and the people know enough of me to believe it truth.”

She did not add that Amytis would also believe the lie and would berate her for it until her dying day.

“No one must know the truth, Zagros. Nor that you are leaving tonight. Especially not my mother.”

It was there again, that look of desperation.

“Princess”—he broke off and sneered, then continued—“how can I return to my country with no bride? My father—”

He raked a hand through his hair, stood, and paced beside her.