Jewel of Persia (61 page)

She laughed and stood. “I cannot argue with that.”

He stood too, grinning. “I will get back to my distractions. They will not work, but I have begun them now and ought to finish.”

Had she been Kasia, he would have invited her to stay, would have put the scrolls aside. He did not, and she did not mind. She was content with the warm embrace he gave her, with the gentle kiss. She was content with the affection in his eyes as he sent her on her way.

She would not want any more—she would not have been able to return it. But this was a fine arrangement.

“Esther?”

She paused in the threshold and looked over her shoulder.

He sat at his table again. “When we arrive in Persepolis, Amestris will relinquish Artaxerxes to me. I would like you to take charge of him.”

Yes, she was content with what she had. His regard, his trust. She smiled. “I would be honored, my husband.”

“I thought you would be.” His grin faded as his gaze fell to his work.

She left him to it and continued down the hallway. The evening air soothed her as she spotted Kasia on the stairs.

Her friend’s brow creased upon spotting her. “Is everything all right? I heard you rush out.”

“Mordecai overheard an assassination plot. I had to let him know.”

Fear flashed across Kasia’s face but subsided quickly. “Praise Jehovah Mordecai was there to hear it.”

“Yes.” They met at the top of the steps. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Much. It is nothing to worry about. In fact . . .”

“I know, he told me.” Esther rested her hand on Kasia’s arm. “Kasia, why did
you
not tell me you nearly died with Zillah?”

Kasia sighed, but her expression held a tease. “So you could worry too?”

Esther grinned. “It is my prerogative. You are my dearest friend.” When that dearest friend glanced toward the palace, Esther nodded. “He is worried about you.”

“I knew he would be. But Jehovah will take care of me.”

“As I told him.” She leaned over, kissed her sister’s cheek. “But you must take care of yourself, too. We would all be lost without you.”

The gleam in Kasia’s eye was more than contentment, more than satisfaction with her place. “I have no intentions of leaving, so rest assured I will take care of myself.” She glanced toward the palace again. “I will check on him.”

“Good idea.” Esther would go back to her elegant rooms, where she had the luxury of praying with no prying eyes to discover her. She would lift up Kasia and Xerxes both to Jehovah until the last of the fear released her.

She had a feeling she would not get much sleep tonight.

~*~

Persepolis, Persia

Amestris cursed, cursed again. Better anger than despair. Better vile words than hot tears. Failure again. A loyal servant dead instead of a faithless husband. And saved by whom? The hand of a Jew.

She spun, then seethed to a halt and looked out into the gardens where Artaxerxes frolicked. Patience was called for. Patience and perseverance. She would wait for Haman to thrust the Jews from the king’s favor. She would bide her time, woo the right men. The ones who could succeed where Bigthan failed.

Then Ahura Mazda would finally rule. Through her chosen son . . . and through her.

Forty-Six

Five years later, in the first month of the twelfth year of the reign of Xerxes

Esther scanned the gardens for her daughter and tamped down a grin when she saw Zillah urging her into the fountain. Her Amani—could she possibly be three already?—dipped one toe in the water and shrieked. Six-year-old Zillah laughed and plunged in until the water reached her knees.

So like Kasia and her, only these two truly were sisters. Whoever would have guessed at such a future?

Kasia settled at Esther’s side with a moan, one hand on her swollen stomach. Child number four would join them any day. Any hour, if Esther correctly interpreted the tension that crossed Kasia’s face. Her friend grimaced and rubbed at her side. “I feel as though one wrong move and I will rip in two.”

Esther chuckled. “I recall that feeling.” She had hoped to experience it again by now, but Xerxes called her so rarely lately . . . not surprising. Whenever Kasia grew large, he could think of no one else. Perhaps it was because his worry overwhelmed him. Or perhaps it was because that was when Kasia was too tired to insist he pay attention to the rest of them.

She suspected the latter.

Esther touched her shoulder to Kasia’s. “You look exhausted. Nightmares again?”

Kasia shuddered. “I know not why they plague me in my last weeks of pregnancy. Every time I sleep, I am back on the wall at Sardis, watching the darkness descend. Hearing the scream behind me, smelling that blasted scent, feeling the push.”

Esther could only shake her head as Kasia craned around to note where her sons scampered. The elder of the boys, Artarius, led two-year-old Arsames in a game of chase. “Do you have any idea who . . . ?”

Kasia’s mouth tightened. “None that Xerxes will entertain. But I have my suspicions.” She looked up at the wall.

Esther followed her gaze. A chill swept her spine when she spotted their husband’s closest friend. It was no secret Haman was an enemy of the Jews. But exactly how far would that hatred take him? She could only hope the king was right to believe him trustworthy.

Doubt eclipsed the hope every time she saw him.

~*~

Haman clasped his hands behind his back and looked out over Susa. The morning sun bathed him in light. Each degree it crept higher, each increase in heat made the secrets of his heart burn hotter.

It was time. He had waited so long, patient and polite. Done the king’s bidding, carried out his wishes even before he could ask him. Finally, finally he had been given his due. Elevated even above the princes. A week ago he had dined at a feast in his honor. Everywhere he went, the palace servants bowed to him.

All except one. Haman glanced toward the gate where the Jew always sat. Obstinate and rebellious. He knew the king had a fondness for the swine, but he was done waiting for the affection to fail.

It was time to force matters. And he knew exactly where to start—the Jewess witch. From there, it would be easy enough to obliterate her entire people.

The very thought made him smile.

~*~

There ought to have been pain. Kasia felt every muscle coil, every ounce of strength focus on the next push. She could feel the pressure, the way the babe within her inched closer to life.

Why was there no pain? There had been pain with Zillah. With Artarius and Arsames. Even with each child she lost in the first years of her marriage.

But this . . . it was too like the time in Sardis. The time when Mordecai had prayed her agony onto himself so that she might survive it. The time when her child had been born lifeless and she had nearly joined him in the bosom of Abraham.

Sardis
. Why did everything remind her of Sardis?

Something was wrong, and fear of it shook her, from sweat-soaked brow to curled toes. “Pray.” The command croaked out, rasped, but she knew Desma heard. Not just the word, but the desperation.

Her maid’s brow furrowed. “Mistress, what is it? Everything is well.”

“No. No, it is not. I cannot . . . there is no . . .” More tension, more pressure. She squeezed her eyes shut. Why did Jehovah take the sensation from her again? She was not injured, not weak. She could handle it. She could . . .

The tension eased. Leda caught the babe, shouted, “A girl! Another beautiful daughter, mistress. Two of each now.”

She wanted to smile, she wanted to laugh, she wanted to cry. She wanted to reach for this newest wonder and put her to her breast.

A single arrow of pain shot through her like lightning. And she could not move. Could neither lift an arm nor open her mouth. Her bent knees fell flat, and the rest of her went lax.

No! No, no, no. She must move, she must regain control. The babe—Leah, they were going to name her after Ima’s mother—would need nursed. Zillah and the boys would be in soon.

“Mistress?” Desma squeezed her hand, shook her leg. She could feel it. She could hear, she could see. But . . . “Mistress, what is wrong? Mistress? Mistress!”

Oh to be able to soothe her, to calm the fear that she saw rock her trusted friend. A stream of tears tickled her cheek, and she could not even sniff, could not wipe them away.

Chaotic shouting clanged in her ears, but she saw them fall to their knees, all her loyal servants. She saw precious Esther come in, saw the horror in her eyes. Heard her wail as she knelt beside Kasia’s bed.

Sweet friend. Dear sister. She would take care of the children, Kasia knew. But Xerxes—if she died, he could fly into a rage that would shake the world. Or crumble, which would rock it. How could the nations stand firm when their foundation gave way?

Jehovah, sustain him. Comfort Esther. Knit them together with something other than me. Put your arms around my children. Oh Jehovah, why? Why is this happening?

Warmth on her left side, as if someone sat beside her. Yet the mattress did not sink, no sound filled her ears. She could blink, she could move her eyes. But she was not sure what she saw. An edge of light, so white it nearly hurt. An outline of a man, of broad shoulders and . . . wings?

Comfort. Peace. Familiarity. A shimmering, half-visible arm lifted, and warm fingers touched her cheek.
Rest, child. This is the only way.

Kasia closed her eyes and sank.

~*~

Xerxes could only stare at Esther, unaware his knees had buckled until he felt the cushion of a chair beneath him. “She what?”

His queen trembled, and tears rushed down her cheeks in a swollen river. “I do not even know what to call it. She cannot move, cannot speak. We called in the physicians, but they have never seen the like, not exactly. Apoplexy is their best guess.”

“Stroke?” He pushed to his feet so he could pace, raked a hand through his hair. “No. She is only twenty-five.”

“They have seen it strike women in labor before, though it does not match the symptoms exactly.” Esther raised her hands, let them fall. “Perhaps she will come out of it.”

“She must. She
must
.” His arms swung out, swept an urn from a shelf.

Esther jumped when it clamored against the stone of the floor. His queen had never learned how to deal with his temper—of course, she rarely saw it.

He lunged toward the door, a million thoughts battling in his mind. Kasia could not die—he would not allow it. He would do whatever he must, bring in the best physicians from the world over. Anything, so long as she lived.

Esther ran after him, but he spun and halted her with a raised hand. “No. I will go alone.” He needed to see Kasia, see his love, without any other company.

“But . . .” Hurt filled her eyes, but that only kindled his fear-soaked anger.

“Will you argue with me? Disobey me?”

Gaze on the ground, she took a step back. He ignored the tears on her cheeks and sped away.

The palace grounds passed in a blur, light and shadow merging. Until he stepped into her room. In there he saw the light and, at its slicing edge, hovering darkness. His knees struck the floor beside her bed.

Perhaps she only slept. How could it be otherwise? She looked perfect, her hair flowing over the pillow, her face peaceful.

Yet she was never so still, even in slumber. Her chest barely rose, scarcely fell. When he wove his fingers through hers, they did not tighten in response.

A sob ripped up through his chest and lodged in his throat.

“Father?” Zillah crept close and leaned into him. His precious girl. “What is wrong with Ima?”

“I do not know, princess.” He pulled her into his lap and held her tight. He motioned the boys over too and wrapped an arm around them. “She is sick. We will get the best physicians to care for her.”

“And Savta.”

Yes, she would want her mother. “You are a smart girl.” He kissed her head, then glanced toward the servants. “See that a message is sent to her family. Tell them to come straightaway.”

Squalling filled the room, and Xerxes started. He had forgotten to ask about the babe.

As if reading his thoughts, Desma picked up the squirming bundle and swayed his way. “A daughter, master.”

“Leah, then.” He gave the three older children each a kiss and reached for the newest addition. The sob threatened to tear loose. She looked so much like Kasia. “My love, you must wake up. You must meet little Leah.”

Surely she could not resist that.

Her eyes opened. Then slid closed again.