Jewel of Persia

They headed together to where the leaders, both military and political, sat in order of Xerxes’ preference. He took his place on the dais between the kings of Tyre

and Sidon. He sat higher than the rest—the king of kings, the king of Persia and Media, the king of the world.

The torc pressed into his wrist. He just wanted to be Xerxes again, just for a day, for a night. Xerxes, as he could only be with Kasia. Would she ever let him be so open

with her again? If he laid his soul bare before her, would she still love him—or had he pushed her too far? She would forgive so much, so often, but not an offense against

her God. He knew that, had always known that. Why had he pushed?

He motioned Mardonius to his side. “Go around the assembly, ask them each individually if they think we ought to meet the Greeks at sea to finish them off.”

His cousin moved off. Xerxes sat back on his throne and pretended to listen to the chatter around him. Pretended to care. Pretended the war still mattered.

Mardonius returned an hour later, a smile upon his face. “We are all in agreement, master, that it is the best course of action to set our fleet against the Greeks.”

Xerxes trailed a finger around the lip of his chalice. “Everyone?”

His cousin’s smile faltered. “Well, there was one voice of dissent. Artemisia.”

Hands still, Xerxes arched a brow. Artemisia had proven herself time and again—and he could not help but remember Kasia’s teasing about joining his council and taking a

seat beside the sole woman on it. “What does she advise?”

“She, ah . . . says you already have your victory, master, and that your fleet will be as inferior to the Greeks at sea as women are to men. Why risk another battle, when

you have won Athens, and that was the whole point to the war? She advises that you hold your position on land here, or else march into the Peloppennese, because she has

information saying the Greeks have no provisions on the island they have fled to, and you will starve them out soon enough. She further says that the best of men always have

the worst of slaves, and since there is none better than you, it stands to reason that many of the nations supposedly your allies may turn on you in your moment of need.”

“What did everyone else say to that?”

Mardonius’s smile looked forced. “Her friends cautioned her to hold her tongue, fearful you would grow angry and have her executed. Her enemies encouraged her to speak,

hoping you would grow angry and have her executed. All agree her advice is folly.”

Xerxes snorted a laugh. “Truth be told, cousin, her advice echoes my own instincts. But I have such a large council for a reason, and I am willing to grant that when so

many agree, they most likely have the right of it.” He sighed and rested his palm against the arm of his throne. “Tell Artemisia that while I approve of her plan, the

majority will dictate our course. We will meet them at sea.”

Once they had complete victory, no one would blame him for going home.

*

Sardis, Lydia



A goldfinch sat on the bosom of a sunflower, alternately pecking at the seeds and letting out a warble of pleasure. Kasia pulled her knees as close to her chest as they

would go and watched the bird stretch out its vivid yellow wings, only to find a more comfortable position and select another seed.

According to Darius, Artaynte had transplanted the flowers to the head of the little grave, had tended them all through the hot summer and made sure the plot was not

overgrown. Kasia would love to thank her for the gesture, for the care it denoted.

Parsisa still would not allow it, even at the prince’s prodding.

Alone again. Always alone in her husband’s palace, among her husband’s people. Without even her husband, now. Without the friends she had cultivated at the start of the

campaign. The only one to ever speak to her was Darius, and he only did it out of pity for his father’s once-favorite wife, she was sure.

No, she was not alone. She had Desma and Leda settled on either side of her even now, Theron guarding them from behind. Her other four servants carried out the tasks she

assigned them inside, she knew. Zad stretched out beside her as always. Not alone. Not quite.

The dog lifted his head and let out a woof of greeting.

“Kasia! The prince said I would find you here.”

She would have leapt to her feet, had leaping been possible with her stomach. Instead, she held out an arm for Desma to help her up and drew out a wide smile. “Pythius! I

hoped you would visit soon, but the prince knew not where you were, to let you know I had returned.”

The silver-maned man strode to her and gathered her in a tight hug as Zad danced a happy salutation. Tears pricked her eyes at the feel of strong, loving arms around her.

Like Abba’s arms, warm and solid. Oh, she missed her parents. Her siblings. Esther.