Jewel of Persia (51 page)

Laughter nearly bubbled up—had he not asked her that same question years ago, when she caught him practicing with Bijan?—but she bit it back. It would have come out hysterical. Still, she remembered her role. “I might ask you the same question.”

He touched a finger to her chin. She jerked away. “Do not touch me.”

“Esther, please. Let me explain—”

“What explanation can you possibly give? It is bad enough that you would have a lover. But a married one?”

Guilt twisted his face. His conscience was alive then—but apparently in subjection to his lusts. “I know. I do. I never meant to get involved with her.”

She snorted and spun away.

“Esther.” Voice desperate, he caught her arm. “I am sorry—”

“That is not enough.” The tremors started in her stomach and pulsed out to the tips of her fingers. “To think that I would have married you. Would have given you everything I am, my entire heart, never knowing that you have a bastard child with another woman.”

He looked as though his heart tore in two. Good. “I love you, Esther. You, only you.”

“What would you have done had her husband been angry with her?”

His agony increased . . . but it was nothing compared to hers. “I do not know.”

“Or if we married, then she came to you in a year, in two years, and said the child needed something, needed you? What then?”

He sighed. “You think I have answers? I only know that while I do feel responsible for . . . this, I also love you. I want you to be my wife.”

She pulled her arm free. “No.”

“Esther.” When he reached for her again, she leapt away and spun toward home. He fell in beside her. “I understand you are angry. Hurt. But please, do not give up on me. Surely, if you really love me, we can work this out.”

A fire swept through her. “If I love you? What about if you really love me? Like, perhaps, ‘if you really loved me, you would not have slept with another woman’? What about
that
?”

“I know.” His voice shook. “It was a mistake, one I regret.”

“Well, I hope your regret keeps you company. I want nothing to do with you.”

“Esther—”

“Just stop!” A sob ripped out, her eyes burned. She clenched her fists against it. Better the anger than the pain. Better to keep her head high than let him see her break. She had broken enough in life. Had let tragedy bend her each time it struck. She was done. “You knew what you were doing, Zechariah.”

He reached for her again. She stepped out of his way and shook her head. “I saw you that day. I saw her leap into your arms, and I laughed. I thought it just another crazed Persian. Unimportant. And then that evening, I sat there beside you while you built our house, and you said nothing about it. Nothing about what must have filled your thoughts.”

“I did not want to hurt you.”

“Too late.” Half hoping he would leap into the river and let it carry him off, she ran the rest of the way home.

Thirty-Nine

Evil flew through the palace. Kasia could feel the beat of its wings upon her soul. It kicked her heart to a higher speed, made her thoughts race in prayer. Still, fear soaked her.

“Jehovah, help me.”

You are safe, my daughter.

The promise did little to ease the anxiety. What of those she loved?

Screams pierced the air. The kind that came from fear, then they shifted, grew into the kind born of the most excruciating pain.

Her mind flashed back to Sardis and the cries of Pythius’s son—only these were higher, feminine.

Somehow Zillah slept through it, and Kasia whispered a prayer of thanks for that, added another that the angels would insulate her from whatever chaos set upon them. She looked to Desma. “Stay with her.”

“Mistress—”

“I must see what is going on.” She sped out the door, knowing her eunuchs followed. She found Jasmine at the end of the corridor, pale-faced. “Jasmine. What is happening?”

Jasmine reached for her hand and gripped it. “Amestris handed Parsisa over to the guards. Her instructions do not bear repeating.”

Her stomach cinched tight. “Why?”

Jasmine’s eyes filled with tears. “You were not to know. You will not like it.”

“What I like is of no consequence right now.” She did not mean to snap it, but the cries . . .

Jasmine’s eyes slid shut. “Artaynte arrived at the feast this afternoon wearing the shawl Amestris gave Xerxes at his coronation. Darius flew into a rage, and Amestris requested a favor of the king—Parsisa. She obviously thought the mother behind it.”

Behind . . .
it
. She did not want to consider
it
. Did not want to think of why Artaynte would have Xerxes’ most prized possession.

Yet even without considering, she knew. Her blood ran cold through her veins, and a chill swept up her spine.

She heard his footsteps, even over the agonizing screams and the shattering of her own insides. In that second before action, she considered running away, back to her chamber. But she had to know. She spun to face her husband.

He must have seen something on her face—his expression shifted from distress to despair. He stretched out a hand, but she took a step backward and whispered, “What have you done?”

“It was not supposed to hurt you. You were never to know.”

“Of all the inane—”

“I am sorry. Kasia, I am so sorry.”

“Sorry?” She shook her head, stepped away from his reach again. “How many wives do you have, Xerxes? And added to them, you have the right to any slave you desire. Is that not enough? Must you steal your son’s wife as well? Your own
niece
?” The thought of that sent a shudder up her spine, even though she knew he would not recognize the connection as incestuous. “I hope you loved her. Hope you enjoyed yourself, that it was worth her mother’s life.”

Xerxes winced. “It was not . . . I only wanted to punish Darius. For what he did to you in Sardis.”

For a long moment she could only stare at him. This was because of
her
? Because he was jealous? “You slept with Artaynte because Darius kissed me?”

He turned his face away, presenting his ticking jaw. “Because of what came after.”

“After? You slept with Artaynte because I threatened to kill him if he touched me again?”

He met her gaze again, his strangely soft. “My love, we both know my son is not the type to accept such an answer. I realize the memories must be painful—”

“There
are
no memories! Do you not think I would have told you had it been something more? Do you think I could have hidden my heart from you, and the scars that would have left behind? Have I seemed at all hurt?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “You avoid him. Avoid the mere mention of him.”

“Because he kissed me.” A particularly gruesome shriek pierced the air. Kasia squeezed her eyes shut. “I cannot believe we are having this conversation while Parsisa . . . why do you not stop it?”

“I cannot. I agreed to grant her a request.”

The screams came to an abrupt halt. That, even more than the terrible noise, sent a wash of fear through her. Xerxes motioned one of his eunuchs toward the exit.

Kasia shook her head, tried in vain to blink back the tears. “Why would you do something so stupid? Not just the affair, which is awful enough. But you know Amestris’s wrath. Why would you give away the shawl? And why, after doing so, would you be so foolish as to grant her a favor?”

Only at the collective gasp behind her did she realize all the other women had come out. She bit her lip. Perhaps she could get away with speaking to him like that in private, but to call the king a fool in front of all his wives?

She might as well offer herself next to the murderous guards.

Xerxes did not seem to notice. He rubbed a hand over his face. “I did not realize she knew already. But I felt guilty for it and thought . . .”

The eunuch reappeared, his face pale as a specter. “She is yet alive, though I cannot imagine for long. They are taking her home.”

“What did they do to her?” Xerxes’ voice was dead and even.

“Mutilated her, master, in ways I cannot say in front of the women.”

His eyes slid shut. “My brother will not forgive this.”

He was not the only one. Vision blurred and rocking, Kasia turned toward her quarters. The sea of wives parted before her.

“Kasia, wait.”

Instead she ran, ran until she gained the tremulous sanctuary of her own room, where Zillah still slept peacefully in her cradle.

She ought to have realized Xerxes would follow. His hands curled over her shoulders, and he stood so close his body heat wrapped around her.

She did not want it. Did not want the comfort it would give or the familiarity it exuded. “This is too much, Xerxes. Artaynte is my friend.”

His thumbs stroked up her neck. “She used to be. But seeing how Darius loves you, I think her anger eclipsed everything else. As mine did. I did not love her, Kasia. I know the court will say I did, will whisper about how well she must have pleased me for me to give her that shawl, but it was only revenge.”

This, then, was why the Lord claimed vengeance for himself. It was too bitter, too terrible for the likes of men to bear. “You have destroyed your family, Xerxes.”

His hands tightened, then fell away. “I did not do it alone. Darius was the one who decided lust meant more than blood.”

She spun, hands fisted. “Which was wrong. But Darius is little more than a boy, ruled by his emotions and desires. You are a man, Xerxes. A king. You ought to know the price for such things.”

Anger kindled in his eyes. Good. Better a battle than the sobs she felt building in her throat. He drew in a long breath. “I know this will mean nothing to you, but it was her idea.”

“Nothing at all. You betrayed your son in the worst way imaginable. And your brother . . .”

His eyes slid shut. “I know. I did not realize what Amestris would do.”

New fury simmered. “And why not? You know venom flows in place of her blood. You know what she tried after you gave me the torc. Yet you have done
nothing
to curb her power since we returned, nothing to remind the world that she is not still the queen.”

Eyes flying open, he spat, “I was a little preoccupied with the woman I love nearly dying in labor.”

She shot Desma a reproving glance. “It has been nearly a month and a half since then.”

“During which I was settling back into rule.”

“And seducing your son’s wife.”

“I did not seduce—” He cut himself off with a curse. “What would you have me do, Kasia? I cannot undo it, though I wish I could. I cannot save Parsisa. I cannot even punish Amestris, not with the responsibility of it weighing on my shoulders.”

“You can name a new queen.”

He looked weary and unconvinced. “What would that solve? I cannot name you, but bringing in new young women will take a year.”

It stung, even though she would have been the first to agree. “It will convey a message.”

“She is right.”

She looked beyond her husband, to where his advisers came through her doorway. A sigh gathered in her chest. The last time these men had stepped foot in her chamber, Amestris had ended up deposed. Hard to believe they were here again, again in response to the first wife’s atrocities.

Perhaps she should not have stopped him from having her killed years ago.

No, that was anger speaking. Anger and horror, and a dash of guilt mixed in. She should have told Xerxes about Darius when he arrived in Sardis. Should have told him exactly what happened, so that he would have known what did not. Trying to spare his temper had only given it fuel.

The eldest member of the council inclined his white-haired head. “Persia has been too long without a queen, my lord. The women need someone to follow. The harem needs a leader.”

“Which you expect they shall find in some fresh-faced virgin?” Xerxes shook his head. “Kasia has assumed leadership. That is enough.”

Kasia folded her arms over her chest. “Obviously not.”

When these men had come to her chamber a few years before, they had looked at her with skepticism. Now the speaker inclined his head with respect. “My lady does indeed command the respect of all the women. And when we bring in virgins for you, my lord, she can take them under her wing and lend them her wisdom. She can show the one you select how to be a queen worthy of you.”

Xerxes met her gaze, held it.

Kasia clenched her teeth. “Do it. Anyone would be better than Amestris.”

Still he held her gaze. “I do not need more wives.”

She raised her chin. “Your mother told me when I arrived that a king’s wealth is measured not only in gold and lands, but in wives and sons. They will be bringing you new virgins until the day you die, Xerxes.” Giving him a pointed look, she added, “It is not
your
wives I mind.”