Jewel of Persia (31 page)

Only the ones young and innocent enough to hear the whisper of Jehovah, but old enough to guide their nurses. She smiled at the memory of rapt little faces.

He tugged on a piece of her hair. “You have been avoiding me as well. Not once have you shared a meal with me.”

It was her turn to sigh. “I did not want to watch.”

His brows drew together. “Watch what?”

“You charming Lalasa’s and Diona’s servants.”

He put his hands on her shoulders and set her back a few inches. “You are jealous of slaves? When you never were of the other wives?”

Her gaze fell to the heavy chain of gold around his neck. “I know. Perhaps it is because I knew I would share you with your other wives. I did not realize . . .” She bit her lip and shook her head. “And I never
had
to be jealous before. Before, I was your favorite.”

“Lovely Kasia.” He cupped her face, lifting it up. She blinked away tears. It had been so long since he had called her that. “The slaves are nothing—I accept them only out of kindness to the concubines, who apparently weary of my demands.” A smile teased his mouth. “I have been too hard on them. I want them to be you, and they never are.”

She could be her, if only he would let her. “I am sorry I have avoided you, my love.”

“As I am. No more, hmm? Otherwise I may send some other unfortunate relation home in disgrace, until I am left with only my own wisdom.”

She smiled. And when he lowered his head, she strained up to meet him, curled her arms around him. The heat of the kiss fused their lips together and brought life pounding through her again—the glory of it gave her wings.

All too soon he broke away with a moan. “You ought to go.”

“No.” She held him tighter and trailed her lips down his jaw. “Let me stay. Please, Xerxes. I cannot go on like this. Let me stay. Let me live tonight.”

“Kasia . . .”

She pressed closer and nipped at his ear. “Do you not know how I have missed you?”

“Until these last few days, we were beside each other half the day.” The insistence was weak.

“But there was always someone else on your other side.” She ran her nose down his neck. “I have missed touching you.”

His heart galloped against his chest. “You have touched me.”

“Not like this. It has been like that first week after we met—I have dreamt of you every night, but awakened to realize I could not have you.”

His hands settled on her hips. “You will drive me to insanity, woman.”

“Fair enough—I will go with you.” She pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat.

“Kasia.” The impatient twitch of his fingers promised pleasure, but his face still showed an unresolved will. “I know you want a child—”

“It is not about a child.” She met his gaze so he could see that in her eyes, then kissed his lips softly. “It is about you. I want
you
, Xerxes, nothing more.”

“It is not that simple.”

“Why not?” She forced her fingers to relax so that she might sweep them over his broad shoulders, down his chest, around his back. If she had to use every weapon of the senses to prevail, then so be it. She could not spend another night with nothing but dreams of him for company. “If you want no risk of a child, then just hold me. Let me kiss you.”

The passion was there, smoldering in his eyes. “Kissing you is never enough, my love.”

“But ignoring me is?”

There—capitulation. “Ignoring you has been torture. The less I have you, the more I want you.”

Anticipation shot up her spine. “What, then?”

His mouth quirked up into the grin she loved, even as he swept her into his arms. “I suppose I shall have to show you.”

Twenty-Three

Xerxes awakened slowly, reluctant to relinquish the perfect dream. A warm body nestled behind him, but when consciousness got hold of him, he would no longer be able to fool himself into thinking it Kasia.

His eyes flew open, his senses went on alert. Curse and praise battled for a place on his tongue—he was a fool all right, one who ought to wish it a dream. Who knew what penalty the god would exact for this, but so help him . . . he rolled over, his breath catching in his throat. Hopefully the god would credit him for trying.

A smile won dominion of his mouth as he settled in again, his ear against Kasia’s chest so he could hear the patient rhythm of her heart. Last night it had raced, swifter than any ship in the fleet.

He trailed a hand up her leg and tried to focus his mind on the coming day rather than the night past. There was much to do. Deliver the planned speech to his command, asking for their total dedication before they crossed into Europe. Then the first of them would put foot to bridge.

Kasia’s fingers feathered through his hair and her breath hitched, released. “Am I dreaming again?”

He chuckled and propped himself up. Her eyes were clear and bright again, her smile at the ready. He leaned over to kiss her. “I never meant to hurt you, my love. I only want to protect you.”

She turned onto her side and draped an arm around him. “Will you try to banish me again?”

“I never banished you.” He smiled at the arch of her brows. “Fine, call it what you like. And no. I cannot. Not anymore.”

“Good. Because if you tried it, I would sneak in and kiss any objections away.”

“I am surprised you did not try it before.”

The shadows flickered through her eyes again, and he silently cursed himself. She rested her head against his arm and pulled in a long breath. “What of your fears?”

“They are still valid.” He sighed and traced his fingers over her back. “I sent my uncle home for letting fears rule him. I may be a hot-headed fool, but I try not to be a hypocrite.”

“Good.” She moistened her lips and met his gaze again. “I dreamt of a child last night. A little girl, born when we get back to Susa.”

He may turn into Artabanas yet—fear iced through him, threatening to paralyze. He swallowed it down. “Such dreams are expected, my love. The wishes of your heart, combined with the day’s events. Nothing more.”

Her eyes shuttered and her muscles tensed. “My dreams are not allowed to mean anything, though you have mustered millions based on yours?”

He sighed. “I have never heard of a dream prophesying a girl-child.”

“Of course not.” She pulled away and sat up, each movement an angry jerk. “History only records such things if the child goes on to greatness, and women matter little.”

“Kasia—”

“You read the history of men. Women hear different tales, ones passed down from mother to daughter. I would not be the first to dream of a female child that is new in the womb.” She looked around and grabbed her chiton. “Perhaps Jehovah sends the dreams when he knows his daughters need encouragement.”

His jaw tightened, but he forced it open. “Look at me.”

It took her several moments to obey.

Xerxes drew in a long breath. “You find comfort in your Jehovah, and in spite of your claims last night, you obviously desire a baby. I can stop neither, though both could anger
my
god.”

“I am not afraid of—”

He held up a hand. “If you want to take your place beside me again, you will obey me in this. I cannot keep you from praying. I cannot stop a child from growing inside you, not as long as I keep you in my bed. But you will speak of neither. I will not tempt the god.”

She pulled the garment over her head. “Why do you cling to faith in a god you think you can fool with silence?”

He stood too. “I will have your word on this, Kasia.”

Her gaze focused on nothing, her chest heaved. Would she refuse? Had those claims of needing only him last night been a ploy to get back into his bed for the sake of a child?

Her shoulders sagged, and she turned into his chest. “You will have my silence. But both Jehovah and a growing child speak for themselves.”

“I will deal with that if it arises.”

She tilted up a face filled with challenge. “When.”

Infuriating woman. How had he ever mistaken her for compliant?

And why did he love her more today than ever before?

~*~

Doriscus Fortress, Thrace

Kasia rolled over but could not find the heat she sought. Refusing to open her eyes just yet, she reached out . . . and found nothing but pillows. With a sigh, she gave in and looked for her husband. “Xerxes, what in the world are you doing?”

He was already dressed and stood in the middle of the chamber, an assortment of tablets on the table before him. He smiled at her over his shoulder. “Just reviewing the numbers.”

A chuckle tickled her throat. “I doubt they have changed since yesterday. Come back to bed.”

“I cannot rest, I am too eager to be on our way.” He turned back to the table, mumbling, “One million, seven hundred thousand men. Amazing.”

She rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her mouth. “Do not forget the twelve hundred seven triremes.” She sat up and stretched, knowing she could not sleep with him counting in the lamplight. A shame—it was their last night in the bed she had enjoyed this week.

“Oh, I have not forgotten. You know, adding together the men in the fleet and those on land, it is well over two million. If we were to count all the servants and support peoples as well . . . surely it would be more than five.”

She suspected some of the numbers had been inflated, but she would not be the one to tell him so. Slipping her garment on, she stood—and immediately regretted it. The flip of her stomach rivaled the acrobats that had performed for them last night. “Oh.”

Xerxes spun to face her, frowning. “Are you ill?”

Frustration churned along with the nausea. “It is nothing.” Nothing he would let her speak of. He would storm out if she dared mention that sickness generally started at this point in a pregnancy.

“You barely touched your food last night, so perhaps you are only hungry. Zethar brought in fruit and bread if you would like some.”

Suddenly aware of the yeasty scent of the fresh loaf, she dashed to the corner to wretch into the waste pot.

Xerxes’ silence pounded at her when she rose again. He stood like a statue, his face set in an expression of hard denial. Then he spun back to his tablets.

Well, if he was so bent on calculations, he could do this one and realize the symptoms were right on cue for her to have conceived at Abydus. He probably had already, otherwise he would be concerned rather than silent. How long would he ignore it? Did he not realize the fear could be better dealt with together?

It seemed she had only managed to secure half her marriage. He still would not talk to her about anything that mattered. Troops and surrenders, landscapes and acquaintances. Nothing more.

She wiped her mouth on a rag. In some ways, half a marriage was better than the echo she had had since Sardis. The fog stayed at a distance. But the shadows—the shadows seemed to creep a little closer each time she had to close her mouth on her faith.

Dear Jehovah, let not my heart cost me my soul
.

Xerxes tossed a tablet down with a thwack. “Zethar! Rouse everyone, and let us get an early start. I tire of dawdling.”

Kasia shook her head. It would take as long to wake everyone up as it would to let them rise on their own. But when the king issued a command . . .

Her servants stumbled in, Desma still rubbing at her eyes. She narrowed them upon spotting Kasia. “You are pale. How do you feel this morning?”

“Nauseous.” Kasis pressed her lips together when Xerxes flew from the chamber. “Which apparently displeases my husband.”

“He fears for you.” Desma guided her to a seat and pulled back her hair. “Your belongings are packed and ready to go.”

Kasia shut her eyes while Desma worked her hair into a braid. The farther they traveled into Europe, the more she longed to go home. She missed the sun-baked land of her birth. The parents she had not seen in two years. The cacophony of siblings scrambling around her. She longed for the friend three doors down who would dream with her about impossibilities. She wanted to be surrounded one more time by others who knew Jehovah.

She loved her husband, even this fierce version that had ruled since his terrible god had gripped him. But she did not want to need him so much, did not want the fog to hover, ready to pounce if he turned his back on her again.

“Would you like to eat before we go, mistress?” Leda asked.

Kasia pressed a hand to her roiling stomach. “Perhaps you could bring something with us for later.”

They left the king’s chamber and made their way to the walls of the fortress, where dawn was only a blush on the eastern horizon. Kasia let her head fall back so she could look up at the canopy of dimming stars. She missed watching for the first evening star with Xerxes, but now every evening was a feast, gathered for months in advance by those with farms along their path. The best they could find for the king who declared them his subjects and took with him everything they set up.