He waited until they’d left the chamber before saying, “I find your thoughts surprising. You admitted my father regretted his anger before you even left Malis.”
Her gaze followed the mosaics in the floor. Such bright colors, kept clean of scuffs and scratches by diligent servants. If only her life still shone so—if only another
could scrub her heart clean. “He sent Zethar with an apology as I was leaving. I refused it.”
“You were angry. Surely he will not hold that against you now.”
She just snorted a dubious laugh.
Darius chuckled. “Perhaps with others the king is unbending and hard, but not with you. He has poured more favor upon your head than on any other ever before.” He paused,
dropped his gaze to her stomach. “The life within you is proof of that, is it not? I hear he had determined not to risk your health again, yet obviously you prevailed over
his determination.”
Why did he look at her like that, as though there were more to his words than their syllables? She forced a swallow. “It is hardly a victory when it cost me his trust. I
came to him out of love, because I missed him—he accused me of doing it only to get with child again.”
A stream of thoughts flashed through his eyes too quickly for her to keep up. She thought she spotted doubt, perhaps curiosity. But then only his usual friendliness shone
out, and he ushered her down the corridor that would lead to her chamber. “That hurt you—and I am sure wondering if it were true hurt him. The question now, dear Kasia, is
whether it cuts so deep because you love him still, or if it has snuffed out all affection.”
It was hardly an appropriate line of conversation . . . yet fair enough, when one considered the way she had spoken to him of Artaynte. Kasia sighed. “I ought to fear what
will become of me and my family if he sets his face against us. But I feel no fear. Yet I also feel no hope that things will improve. I feel . . . nothing. Nothing but anger
—at him for the way he acted, and at myself for needing him so much that it came to this.”
Contemplation settled on his face. “I cannot think you have reason to fear. Father is a fair man, especially given time to consider things.”
His threat still echoed in her head. I will decide then what to do with you. A shudder tripped down her spine. “If he is fair, then the best I can hope for is a life of
loneliness in the harem. In his eyes, I betrayed him, chose another over him.”
Darius’s eyes darkened. “In his eyes only, or in reality?”
The weight of the universe seemed to settle on her shoulders. Had she betrayed her husband? “He asked the impossible.”
The prince halted and gripped her shoulders, jarring her a little to force her face up. “That is all you can say? I thought you loved him.”
“I did!” She tried to focus on his eyes but could not—in them roiled and raged something that set loose the hounds of panic and fear. They nipped at her, their growls
filled her ears until she wanted to spin and flee. Darius’s fingers held her prisoner—she pulled against him to no avail. “I loved him with all my heart, but he would
have demanded my soul. I could not give him that, Darius, I could not.”
His grip softened, his expression melted. He pulled her to his chest. “I am no one to judge you. I am sure you have regret enough without condemnation on top of it.”
Kasia held herself stiff. His arms did not feel like Abba’s or Pythius’s, like Xerxes’ or even Zechariah’s. They felt strange, unnatural.
She pulled away with a shake of her head. “I cannot regret my daughter. Nor can I regret standing against him when he demanded I forsake my God.”
Before she could work up the nerve to glance into his face for a reaction, a servant ran down the hall. “Master! I have just arrived from Athens, and I sought you out
first.”
Kasia’s eyes slid shut. The runner’s tone spoke of tragedy. How great? How many this time? What if Xerxes . . . no. Surely the Lord would not snatch her husband from her
with this between them.
Would he?
“What is it?” Darius’s voice was dread covered in urgency.
“Defeat, master, at Salamis, where we met the Greeks at sea.”
“Defeat?”
The prince’s echo bounced around inside her. She squeezed her eyes shut all the tighter, but still her heart thudded, pounded at her ribs. The babe within her gave a mighty
kick.
Not Xerxes. Please, Lord, not Xerxes.
“The Greeks’ ships were better suited for the area, smaller and capable of ramming us. We suffered great loss, many drowned. The king commanded a causeway built to make it
look as though we prepare for a second attack, but he is coming home. The fleet has already set sail to guard the bridge, and the land army will have left this morning.”
He is coming home. Praise Jehovah. Her eyes opened, though she looked only at the floor.
She felt Darius shake his head. “But how could this have happened? My father is an excellent commander, he surely would have seen the risks—”
“Our forces had received word from a spy, master, advising it. Everyone agreed it was the wisest course.”