Jewel of Persia (59 page)

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 because 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.”

Zechariah laughed and set the spear down. “We would have been forbidden from it long ago, had the king not given his approval.”

“I suppose it helps to have a sister in the harem.” Bijan quirked a brow and folded his arms over his chest. “Did she tell you I was in the party that accompanied her back to Sardis? I could hardly believe it.”

“She told me. It is so good to see you, Bijan. I kept you in my prayers.” And there had been many of them, under Mordecai’s tutelage.

Bijan aged before his eyes. “Perhaps that is what kept me safe when all my fellows died around me. This last year was horrible, Zech. Have you heard that my father was killed?”

He nodded, though he did not trust himself to speak. The news had come in the same message from Ruana that informed him he had a son. After swallowing he managed a tight, “I am so sorry.”

“Thank you.” Bijan looked out over the river and huffed out a breath. “It is good to be home. I have never been so happy as when Susa came into sight. And I had the added pleasure of meeting my nephew last night—she named him after our father—and hugging my sister again.”

Silence would strike his friend as odd. He forced a smile, and the question. “I have not seen her for some time. Is she well? And the baby?”

“Both well and healthy. Although I must ask what you did to her, Zech.”

Had it not been for the teasing in his voice, Zechariah would have snapped into a defensive position, ready to battle off an enraged brother. “Ah . . . pardon?”

Bijan chuckled. “She found, of all things, a Jewess to serve as little Navid’s nurse. Now she prattles on about the different Jewish laws and customs as if they are the most interesting topics in the world.”

He shook his head and tried to ignore the swell of feeling within him. A Jewess? She allowed a Jewess to nurse his son, to talk of the ways of Jehovah? “You cannot lay that at my door, Bijan—I do not recall ever mentioning the Law to her.”

“Asho is none too pleased about it, but she refuses to dismiss Rachel.” Bijan shrugged and motioned that they should walk. “I must go to the palace. Word came just before I left in search of you that the king has selected a new queen.”

Thank Jehovah he had been bending down to pick up his weapons so that his friend could not see his face. He hoped it returned to neutral when he straightened again. “Oh?”

“Mm. Some girl of no family—orphaned, I believe—who is supposedly so beautiful the sun pauses in awe when it passes over her.” Bijan grinned and wiggled his brows. “I cannot miss the chance to glimpse her, so I will go to the ceremony. I believe her name is Esther.”

Esther. Zechariah swallowed and told himself his heart did not thud, his soul did not howl. Told himself he had been prepared for this—and that it made no difference. Queen or not, she belonged to Xerxes. Not to him. “Beautiful as she may be, I do not envy you the afternoon at the palace.”

“I was hoping I could convince you to come—surely your sister can get you an invitation.”

Zechariah grimaced. “My sister may be the king’s wife, but I am still a man of profession, and that order for a new throne will not fill itself.”

Bijan’s eyes bulged. “You are crafting a new throne?”

“Alongside a goldsmith, with whom I will be spending this afternoon and many others in the near future.”

Not to mention it was a far better excuse than that he was not ready to see her again, to realize anew that she had slipped right through his arms.