Jewel of Persia (6 page)

“He sounds horrible.” The moment the word slipped out, she slapped a hand over her mouth and prayed Jehovah would strike her dead here and now.

Atossa laughed. “Your opinion is not unexpected, given your upbringing. He is not horrible, child, he is . . . the king. His attention is by necessity fractured. He must be many things to many people. To his wives, he is at once the axis around which you turn and a star afar off in the night. Do what you can to please him, Kasia, or at least to keep from angering him. But know that whatever you find with him, it will be fleeting. That is the way of things. Life here, for all its polish and sparkle, is largely uneventful unless you fall into a scandal.” She leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “Which I would not advise.”

The advice seemed unnecessary—until Masistes’ teasing gaze filled her mind’s eye. “Noted. Duly. I shall . . .” What? Resign herself to a life of nothingness? She was not so sure she could. But she would not dishonor her father, her husband, and her God by acting on silly dreams.

She would
not
. “I shall find contentment in my place.”

“Then you will be better off than most of the wives.” Atossa smiled again and then stood. “I shall let Hegai proceed. After you go to the king, I will pay you another visit.”

Kasia jumped to her feet, though she had no idea how to say farewell to royalty. Would those lessons be poured upon her this week along with the oils and perfumes, or would she be let to blunder her way through? She suspected Haman and Amestris would be in favor of the blundering. Hopefully Hegai’s and Atossa’s attention would save her.

~*~

Mordecai nodded to his manservant as he shut the door behind him. Esther sat in the same place she had when he left three hours earlier. Her fingers kept busy with the mending, but her expression was a hollow mask of pain.

That was how she looked when he first met her three years before, after her parents’ deaths. He had hastened across the miles the moment the news reached him, but still she was alone for a month, with naught but a neighbor to watch her. His heart broke that day, when he beheld the small girl who looked ready to give up on life. It broke again now at the return of the dispassion.

“Daughter.”

She looked up with the smile she always gave when he called her “daughter” instead of “cousin.” But it was a dim echo of the smile that graced her features one short week ago.

Mordecai sighed. “We will be dining with Kish and his family tonight.”

Esther’s gaze fell again. “I am not hungry.”

“I know.” He crouched down beside her and urged her chin up with a finger. “But you must eat, dear one. If you waste away and leave me too, then how will I survive it? I need you, Esther. Kasia’s family needs you. You were closer to her than any of them, and they are comforted by your presence.”

Her face twisted in agony before she turned it away. “How can you be so calm about her loss? How can you go over there without it piercing you anew?”

A question he could not answer. Not honestly. How could he explain that the part of his soul that had blossomed as he watched Kasia, as he came to love her, did not accept this loss at all? It felt as though she were only on a journey. Visiting family in another province. Not here, but not
gone
. Not for good.

It was a delusion—he knew that. But when he cried out to the Lord his God, he felt a whisper of peace wash over him like the river flooding the plains. And the soil of his being was left fertile with hope.

Perhaps he was a fool to think she might return. But he was not enough of one to share that, to get another’s hopes up where they could be dashed against the rocks of reality. Still, he could not escape the peace, the feeling that the young woman he loved so much was well.

To Esther he could only say, “I trust in Jehovah, my child. I find my sustenance in him.”

“But he allowed this to happen. He sent the rains that
killed
her.”

“Those rains fall on the just and the unjust alike. He allows much tragedy, or so it seems to us. But we cannot see the future, precious Esther. We do not know what greater tragedy may have come had this one been withheld. It is our part to have faith in his divine orchestration. To put our hand into his and keep our eyes open, so that we might see what small blessings blossom under our tears.”

She turned her face back to him. He would not have said she looked convinced, but her eyes were no longer shuttered behind the dull pain. They blazed with an ache magnified by her tears. “What blessing can come of this, cousin? You have lost yet another woman you love. I have lost a dear friend, a sister, a would-be mother.”

“Yes, we have. But there is another family of friends three doors down that has also lost a daughter, a sister, and one they loved far longer than we did. Who are we to withhold what comfort we can give them, because it hurts
us
? Is it not our part to ease their burden in whatever way we can?”

When she blinked, a drop of brine fell from each eye. “You are too good, my father. I cannot be like you.”

“No?” He smoothed back a few stray hairs from her face and smiled. “Odd. In you I see a spirit far sweeter than mine has ever been. If you will turn over your injured heart to Jehovah, I think you will find far more strength at your disposal than I have.”

Her lip quivered, making her look far younger than her twelve years. “How do I do that?”

“Pray, little one. Ask him to touch you, to speak to you. Ask him to bring clarity through the pain.”

A frown creased her brow. “And that will work?”

“Jehovah will not keep his comfort from a contrite spirit. Seek him, and he will pour a balm over your soul.”

Her nod was small. “I cannot fathom what good can come of Kasia’s death . . . but I will look for some.”

Not the total surrender to almighty Jehovah that he would have wished, but at least she would keep her heart open to the Lord’s ministrations. Mordecai nodded and stood, held out his hand. “Come. We must go to our friends.”

The pinched look eased away from her face as she put her hand in his. “Yes. Let us go to our friends.”

~*~

Gossip sprinted through the palace, and it did not earn Kasia any friends. For a week, she endured hostile glances from the virgins nearly finished their year of preparation. She listened to their mutters and snickers as she walked by on her way from lesson to lesson. More than one “accidental” bump sent her into a table corner or statue.

She would go to the king tonight, and she would go with bruises on body and soul. She would go knowing the other soon-to-be wives hated her for receiving the best room, a higher daily allotment of oils and perfumes, the undivided attention of Hegai. And for being put ahead of them in the line of women awaiting their turn with the king of kings.

Gladly would she have traded places with any one of them. But instead here she stood in her chamber, listening to Hegai instruct her on her final minutes before meeting her husband.

“You may take anything you like with you,” he said. “Most select their own dress and jewelry. Some take incense or gifts they make for the king. What do you wish?”

An escape? Kasia swallowed, though her throat felt dry and swollen. Perhaps some fatal disease would strike her down before she came face to face with Xerxes. One could hope.

Moistening her lips, she shook her head. “What do you recommend?”

Hegai smiled, even chuckled. “No one ever asks—they spend so long planning, they care little for what I have to say. But I offer my advice freely to you. Dress simply. Do not detract from your natural beauty with too many adornments. Take no gift, as you have had no time to make one with your hands and could otherwise give nothing the king has not first given you.”

He held up a hand and twirled a finger. She spun in a circle so that he could see her from all angles. “The king was intrigued by stories of simple beauty, not riches. Go as
you
. Offer him what you are, who you are. I think he will find it pleasing.”

Though she nodded, her hands trembled. She clasped them together. “Will you select my clothing for me?”

“I will.” He moved to where the new garments rested, chose a few of the fine pieces—a sleeveless red sheath in the style of the Egyptians, topped with a robe of white linen so finely woven it was translucent. Servants helped her into them behind the screen, and then she emerged and turned again for the custodian’s approval.

He nodded. “They suit you well. One necklace, I think, to showcase the fine column of your throat.”

“And my torc.” Perhaps that would prove a mistake, wearing the gift that reminded her of Masistes, who continued to haunt her dreams. Or perhaps the king would recognize what marked her as his, if that was its purpose.

“Of course.” He handed her the silver with its two lions’ heads, and while she fitted it onto her arm, he selected an intricately worked necklace for her.

When he turned her to face the mirror of polished bronze, Kasia held her breath. But the image was not so unfamiliar. Finer clothing, yes. And the wink of precious metals was new. But it was her face, unchanged. Her hair, if glossier and trimmed to have more motion in its length. She was still Kasia, daughter of Kish. But how would Kasia, daughter of Kish, fare as Kasia, wife of Xerxes?

The door opened, and seven servants entered. Hegai welcomed them with a nod and a smile. “Your escort. They will take you to the king’s chambers and will remain your servants in the house of wives. The rest of your things will be taken over in the morning, once the king gives instruction on where you will stay.”

She looked to the servants, but none met her gaze. She turned back to Hegai. “Is there anything else I should know?”

“More than I can tell you right now, and we are out of time.” He smiled and approached her, rested his hands on her shoulders. “You will be all right, Kasia. Queen Atossa has promised to take you under her wing, and she will see that you learn all you must. For now, think only of the king, your husband.”

Did he not realize that those thoughts made her stomach clench in terror?

He dropped his hands and stepped from between her and the door. “Go.”

She knew not what else to do, so she obeyed. Strode forward with all the false confidence she could muster and took her place in the middle of the servants. They led the way out through the gardens, toward the king’s palace. Twilight lit the path, and the fragrance of jasmine touched the air. Soothed her soul.

They moved through a small rear door, along a dark hallway, and finally into a chamber far larger than several of her neighbors’ houses combined. The rich appointments did little to make the cavernous space feel more welcoming. At least it was empty of anyone but her own company.

One of the servants turned to her. “The king declared a week-long feast as plans are finalized for the war. Some nights he may return early, other nights when dawn streaks the sky. We will wait with you until he comes—is there anything you would like?”

She could be waiting here for hours? Kasia shook her head. “Thank you, but no.”

The darkness of the room propelled her to the low windows, where the last streaks of sun were visible on the horizon. She sucked in a breath of appreciation when she beheld the vista from the king’s window. The entire city of Susa stretched before her, awash in fire and shadow from the setting sun. There, far to the side, wended the river. There, the temple. That meant that her family’s house was somewhere in that cluster of darkened silhouettes.

A pang of homesickness struck her in the chest. She had barely had time to miss them during waking hours these last days, but now thoughts of her family filled her. Ima would be putting the littlest ones into bed for the night, picking up the remnants of a busy day. Abba would be settling down to a few minutes of repose, talking with Zechariah about the project they would work on the next day. Zechariah would try to work in a few comments about joining the army, but Abba would put him off again, saying God’s chosen people had no place fighting for their oppressors.

Did they miss her? Did they weep for her still?

A shaft of pain lanced through her, and her eyes slid shut. Hebrew words, usually spoken only at home, came to her lips. “Jehovah God, pour out your healing balm upon my precious sisters and brothers, upon my parents. Ease their grief and their pain. Help Zechariah release the anger I know he felt. And Esther . . . she must feel like yet another loved one has abandoned her. Help her to find a friend to sustain her, and to find comfort in comforting my family. Bless Mordecai for all his goodness and righteousness. Let him not suffer any more for my sake. He deserves better. He deserves the best you have to offer.”

She paused, half expecting loneliness to swamp her. To feel isolated, cut off from God and her people alike as she had all week.

But her conscience resonated now within her. Her God was a living God. A present God. Even in the midst of captivity, when the remnant of his children called out to him, he answered. He was as close as a prayer. Had she but cried for him sooner, this week would not have passed so slowly, with such agonizing solitude.