“Turn from my will,” the god seethed, “and I will smite you with all my wrath. Your war will be lost, your kingdom rent in two. Give your favor again to the Jewish
whore and I will purge her entire people from the face of the earth. Choose carefully, O King. Your god or your lover.”
The smothering darkness of Ahura Mazda or the soft light in Kasia’s eyes? There was no choice, not really. He only wondered why he had tried so long to convince himself
there was. “I would rather have her.”
The roar from the god-man’s mouth deafened him, and the poker loomed glowing before his eyes. “Then you will have neither! No longer will I send blessings your way, and
you shall be undone by the women you think you rule. And the Jewess? I will destroy her.”
“Jehovah will protect her.” He may have doubted her God more than once, but he had always preserved her life.
“You dare to mention that name?” His very voice a flame, the god aimed the poker.
The dream held him captive. He could not lunge away, could not spin, could not raise his arms in defense. He could only stand there as the hot iron found his shoulder and
scream when it seared his flesh.
He bolted up in his bed, hand covering the burn.
Zethar led all his eunuchs in at a run. “Master, what is it?”
Using the light from their lantern, he pulled down his tunic and looked at the front of his shoulder, where an angry circle of red defied logic. “Since when can dreams
injure a man?”
Zethar crouched down and touched a finger to it, pulling away with a gasp. “It burns like fire.”
Xerxes clenched his teeth. Was this the god he had lost Kasia for, one who attacked his followers, who hurt rather than healed? That was not the Ahura Mazda he had read
about in the prophecies of Jartosht . . . but it seemed to be the one who had heard their prayers.
He tossed his cover aside and surged to his feet. “Gather the commanders again.”
“They are still there, master. You have only been in here half an hour.”
“Perfect.” He strode out, back down the hill to where the officials indeed still sat together and talked. All heads turned toward him when he barreled into the assembly.
Xerxes looked from one trusted face to the next, and cared not a whit what any of them thought. Not anymore. “We go home.”
“Master!”
He raised a hand to hush Mardonius. “My decision is made. The Greeks could decide at any moment to sail for the Hellespont and destroy our bridge. I for one do not intend
to be trapped here after the harvest—the army would starve.”
“But master, you cannot accept this defeat! After all, it is not about the planks of wood, but about men and horses, and we still outnumber the Greeks on that score.”
“You want to take a land force into the Peloponnese, then do so, Mardonius. Choose whatever troops you want. I am going home.”
Artemisia nodded. “It is the wisest course of action, my lord.”
“You will lead the fleet back, Artemisia.” He met her gaze through the night. “Take Cyrus and my other sons with you, and go to guard the bridge so that we might cross in
safety.”
Her head tilted up, silver hair glowing in the moonlight. “I am honored by your trust in me.”
“You have earned it. Otanes, supervise the building of a causeway to make the Greeks think we are mounting another attack. While they focus on that, the fleet can slip
away. By the time we march, the ships will be able to guarantee our delivery home, and the Greeks will not bother coming after them. Mardonius—”
“I will escort you out of Europe and winter in Thessaly with the men I select.”
Xerxes nodded and then looked at each of his advisers in turn. None argued—none would dare. “So it is settled. We will be back in Susa in time for my birthday feast.”
And back to Sardis within six weeks, back to Kasia’s arms.
Assuming she would open them.
*
Susa, Persia
Esther had never heard such a joyous roar in the streets, such music and singing. She edged around a woman leaping and strewing myrtle. “What in the world?”
“Have you not heard?” A young man grabbed her by the hands and spun her with a laugh. “The king has taken Athens! Persia is victorious!”
He released her and scooped up another passerby to twirl. Esther shook her head and smiled. Fetching the spices Martha had asked for might not happen this morning, but the
high spirits were contagious. She tucked her basket’s handle into her elbow and contented herself with strolling through the market-turned-festival.
And why not rejoice? Each day brought a new treasure these past weeks—a tender, secret smile from Zechariah, a hint from one of his parents that she would soon be one of
them. She had been afraid to hope that first time he asked her on a walk, but now . . . how could she not?
He sought her out daily, sometimes for glorious hours at a time. They walked, they talked of future dreams, they reminisced and laughed. Each time he asked for her opinion
on something to incorporate into his house, Esther’s heart danced a quick step.