Jewel of Persia (60 page)

As Mordecai had taught him, he turned his mind to prayer until the throb of it faded to an ache.

Forty-Five

The ceremony was solemn, beautiful. Kasia felt the hush of awe down to her core as Xerxes lifted the circle of gold to catch the sun. A shaft of light reflected through the hall.

Esther knelt before him, her face down but her spine straight. Exquisite multi-colored robes flowed over her shoulders and spilled out behind her. Kasia could not have been more proud had it been her daughter evoking such gasps of appreciation. Could not have been more pleased had Xerxes tossed expectation to the wind and given the crown to her instead. She did not want it, would not have known what to do with it. But Esther. Esther had the soul for this.

Mordecai drew in a long breath at Kasia’s side. “I fear I am dreaming,” he murmured, so quietly she barely heard.

“I know.” Kasia smiled. She nearly laughed when she saw the way Esther’s fingers gripped the edge of her robe, then slowly released it. No one else would notice. No one else would realize that even now, she doubted herself. Kasia knew—and knew too that she would soon come into her own.

Xerxes slowly lowered the crown. When the gold found its perfect fit around Esther’s gleaming hair, Kasia sensed light drape her friend along with the diadem. A shiver of recognition swept over her.

All her life she had heard stories of the prophets. Of their mantles, their commissions. Esther had just been give hers—not by the king of the kings, but by the Lord of lords. Would she feel it? Know it? Perhaps not in full, not yet, but Kasia saw the subtle change come over her face.

Peace. Always she had exuded a measure of it, but before it had been her own. This . . . this was the Lord’s, lent to her. Her countenance shone with it.

Kasia blinked back tears. Proud ones and joyous ones. And perhaps one or two that came from realizing her own purpose must now be fulfilled. She had given her husband the wife he needed most, had given Persia its perfect queen. No longer was she the sole ambassador of the Lord to the palace.

She would still have to pray, relentlessly and diligently, especially since Esther would not have that freedom. But she would do that from the comfort of her rooms, where she would tend her family. No longer from Xerxes’ side when he stood as king before the nations.

So be it.

A roar of approval sounded from the crowd as her husband helped Esther to her feet and turned her to face them. She gave the masses a sweet smile.

Xerxes lifted a hand to silence the gathering. “Let the word go out that we shall feast to honor Queen Esther!”

More shouts and whoops, claps and cheers. Musicians took their cue to lift their instruments. Kasia lost sight of Esther as the crowd swarmed forward to meet her.

“A day of rejoicing in Persia.” Mordecai loosed a contented sigh. “You did well, Kasia.”

She nodded. Part of her wanted to slip away unnoticed, but she would not. “We should find couches.”

“I shall get us drinks.”

More than wine, she suspected he wanted a moment with his own thoughts. Kasia smiled and turned away. When Haman stepped into her path, she wished she had stayed with Mordecai instead.

“Lady.” Though his lips turned up, his eyes glinted cold and hard.

Kasia sighed. “Haman. It was a lovely ceremony, was it not?”

He leaned closer. His cloying scent clawed at her, making her head spin with . . . what? She backed up a step. Haman sneered. “Your star is setting, Jewess. You think yourself clever, recommending a bride you think a friend? Your song will change when the king falls in love with her and she forgets you. Your spell will finally be broken.”

Forcing a swallow, Kasia lifted her chin. “If that is Jehovah’s will, I will praise him for it.”

Haman snorted and spun away. Kasia stood where he left her for a long moment, until a familiar arm slipped around her waist. Xerxes pressed a kiss to her temple. “I thought you would be pleased, my love. Why do you look so stricken?”

“It is only Haman. There is something about him . . .”

Her husband chuckled and turned her toward the couches. “A centuries-old feud, nothing more.” He turned her around and gazed long into her eyes. “I love you entirely. You know that, right? Perfect as she may be for my queen, your young friend will never replace you in my heart. It is impossible.”

The truth of that shone from his eyes. And when Esther headed their way, she aimed her smile at Kasia rather than Xerxes.

Realization settled over Kasia. For now at least, she was the thread that held them together.

Will you follow me even here? Will you lend your strength to their marriage?

She drew in an uncertain breath. She loved them both—but did she really have strength enough to sustain not only her own relationships with each of them, but also theirs? And even if she did . . .

Esther joined them, gripped her hand, and smiled. That new peace in her eyes brushed over Kasia like Ima’s loving touch.

Yes, Lord. I will.

~*~

Persepolis, Persia

Amestris hurled the wooden tablet against the wall. Some low-born nobody now sat on
her
throne, wore
her
crown. Well, the new, beautiful,
young
Queen Esther would soon wake up from her dream-come-true and realize she held no power in Persia. Nor would she ever—not if Amestris had anything to say about it.

She would not strike against the girl herself—what would be the point? Xerxes would just put the crown on some other harlot’s head. No,
he
was the problem. Better to be ruled by her weak-willed son than her despotic husband. Darius would not hold out long against her. And if he did . . . well, she could bide her time until she could either woo another son back or Artaxerxes could grow up.

“You.” She motioned her head eunuch closer. “Find a trusted servant and send him to Bigthan in Susa. Have him find those who grumble against the king and feed the flames of their discontent. I want Xerxes dead—and when he is, tell Bigthan he will move out of the gates and into high esteem. He has my word on it.”

The eunuch bowed. “It will be done.”

Yes, it would. But it could not be done soon enough.

~*~

Susa, Persia

Mordecai rose from his usual seat in the gate, stretched, and indulged in a smile. Tonight he would dine with the queen. Everyone may think his excitement came from her title, even the beauty that was already legendary. He and Jehovah knew that had nothing to do with it. He started through the gate.

He could still barely believe his little girl wore the crown. She got to spend her days with Kasia again, and he had seen them together enough these last months to know both of them glowed with it. They had been given back their sisterhood.

So much he owed Kasia now. Not only had she used her influence for Esther, she had paved the way for an easy life in the harem. From all he could see, Esther was settling in well, winning the other wives over with her calm way, her gentle touch.

His only sorrow was in knowing she would not be in Susa much longer this year. Another few weeks and she would travel with the rest of the royal house to Persepolis. He sighed, paused, and leaned into an alcove to say a quick prayer for her.

“I can tolerate no more.”

Mordecai perked up at the harsh tone, even as he slid deeper into the shadows. A familiar presence settled over him, held him immobile.
Yes, Jehovah. I am listening
.

“Teresh, quiet. Your anger will get you killed.”

Teresh . . . the doorkeeper?

“Then so be it—I have had enough. Do you know how many of my brothers died in his pointless war, Bigthan? Four. All four dead, and me castrated to serve at his blasted
door
. My father’s name will die now.”

“Lower your voice. You must be reasonable.”

“I just watched the youngest die, after suffering from those festering wounds for six months. And yet the king does not care that so many of his men died, are
still
dying for his pride. He is too concerned with his wives, with his affairs. If I were the prince I would have killed him months ago.”

The second—Bigthan? Another doorkeeper, then—loosed a low chuckle that sent a shiver of warning up Mordecai’s spine. “We do not need the prince to step in. We can manage it ourselves.”

A beat of silence, then Teresh whispered, “What are you saying? Surely you do not think we could get away with anything.”

“I have a plan.”

Mordecai listened, nausea churning in his stomach as the two eunuchs unfolded and perfected their plan to assassinate the king, step by quiet step. At some point he closed his eyes, focused entirely on their words, and on the steadying presence still holding him.

Only after the voices moved off, after their footsteps had faded, did he feel the comforting weight lift from his spirit. And into his mind came a simple command:
Go!

~*~

Esther ran down the hall, through the garden, into the king’s palace. Fear snagged in her throat and made her breath go ragged. What if they had already put the plan into action? What if there were more conspirators that Mordecai had not heard about, or if they got through the guard Xerxes would post?

Her servants sprinted ahead of her to open doors, clear hallways. She could barely catch enough breath to speak when she finally burst into the king’s chambers.

He looked up at the noise and frowned. Not with anger, though—with concern. Letting a scroll fall to his table, he stood. “Esther, what is wrong?”

A measure of relief, scanty but precious, poured over her. Thus far he was still well. Still alive. “There is a plot. Assassination.”

He motioned a scribe forward even as he came her way, took her arm. She let him guide her to a seat and dragged in a long breath. He sat beside her. “Tell me.”

“I was dining this evening with Kasia and Mordecai, the Jew.”

Xerxes nodded and cradled her hand. “I know. I visited her this afternoon.”

Yes, of course. He always found a sliver of time for Kasia and Zillah. “Mordecai overheard something at the gate today. Two of the doorkeepers, Teresh and Bigthan—they are planning to kill you.”

She gasped and heaved her way through what Mordecai had told her. At some points in the tale, he squeezed her hand, then at the end he patted it and looked to Zethar. “I want this matter investigated.”

“Yes, master.” Zethar charged from the room.

Xerxes eyed the scribe. “Did you write all that down?”

“Yes, master.”

“Good. You may leave, then.” He turned back to Esther and gave her an encouraging smile. “They will take care of it. Thank you.”

“Of course.” How could he handle it so calmly? She still shook, and her dinner felt uncertain in her stomach. This was an aspect of marriage to the king she had not considered—that he garnered enemies that plotted against him, that at any moment he could be killed.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

Xerxes slid an arm around her. “It will be well, Esther. Do not let it upset you so.”

Shaking her head, she prayed the sob would stay in her throat where it belonged. “I am sorry. I have lost so many people who mattered to me . . .”

He hummed and rubbed a hand up her arm. “I understand the fear. I was trying to ignore my own version when you came in. Did Kasia tell you?”

She blinked away the tears. “Tell me what?”

“She is with child again.” With a sigh, Xerxes pinched the bridge of his nose. “I told her I was overjoyed, and I am—but she nearly died giving birth to Zillah. What if . . . ?”

Her throat tightened. Kasia had not told her of any difficulties with Zillah, and she had not yet shared her news about another babe—she would have wanted to inform Xerxes first, and she had left dinner early, saying she felt ill.

Which made sense now.

She could not lose Kasia. Jehovah had protected her through every travail thus far. Just as he had put Mordecai in place to overhear this plot. Her God would protect them. And if he chose not to, then he would sustain her.

Panic still gnawed, but she forced it back, forced her mind to dwell on the provisions of the Lord. Her husband was safe. Her cousin would probably be rewarded. Her best friend would be in a state of bliss over her growing family.

Her hand was steady when she rested it on Xerxes’ knee. “She will be well. Her God will watch over her.”

“I know.” He smiled, but the worry still lurked in his eyes. Not over the would-be assassins, she knew. Only for Kasia. “Still, I will fret. It is my prerogative.”