A quiver resonated inside. “When?”
The men both raised their brows. Kasia cleared her throat. “What day did he receive this advice?”
The slave frowned. “It would have been . . . five days ago.”
The day they received word of the victory at Athens. The day the Spirit had come, had told her to pray for her husband.
The day she had refused.
“Oh, God.” Her knees buckled. Theron leaped to catch her, and she gripped his welcome arm with shaking fingers. “Jehovah, forgive me. Forgive me, I should have listened.
”
Borrowing some of Theron’s strength, she gained her feet again and stumbled her way down the hall, into her chamber. Desma scurried ahead of her to position her prayer mat
under the window, facing Jerusalem.
Her knees struck hard, and she doubled over as much as her stomach would allow. “Lord, forgive me. You tried to warn me that my husband would need your wisdom, and I
ignored you. My heart was so shadowed by anger that I did not care.”
Colors shifted on her lids when she squeezed her eyes shut tight. “And yet, I had a right to my anger, did I not? He is so proud, so arrogant. He tramples the world and
thinks it enough that he mourns those who get crushed.”
Do you love him?
Her soul shook. Had she questioned that these past weeks? Had she spoken of it in the past tense minutes before? Yet the fear that seized her when she thought she might have
lost him . . . “Yes, Lord. You know I do.”
Can you love him when your heart is black with anger?
Fresh tears burned at her eyes. “No. But he denied our child. He would have me deny you.”
Your part is to choose whether you will love him, whether you will let my light shine through you. Leave it to me to provide the flame. Leave it to me to soften his heart to
receive it.
A tongue of that flame flicked through her. How had she survived these weeks without its heat and light? Why had she not realized she could not both fight Xerxes over her
God and then turn around and fight God over Xerxes? “Yes, Lord. I will. I will love him. Please, help me to forgive the hurts he has caused me. Forgive me for turning from
the one you gave me to, for not listening to your Spirit.”
For the first time since Thermopylae, she let the waves of longing crash over her, soak her being with the need to feel Xerxes’ strong arms around her so that she would
know he loved her. Know he would do all in his tremendous power to protect her.
Even if that meant hurting her.
She shuddered and curled her fingers into the fringes of the rug. Perhaps his logic was faulty, but he had only wanted her safe. In his eyes, her faith risked her life. He
was wrong—but his heart had been right. He loved her.
Hopefully he still did. “Help us mend our marriage, Jehovah God. Strengthen our love and knit our hearts together. Shine through me.”
Peace washed over her and eased the tension in her shoulders and back. Her daughter flipped within her.
Two years ago she would not have believed that love could be a choice, that it would ever need to be. Passion had made it easy to pledge her heart and to believe that would
be enough to last forever. But the fire of first love was not its proof—its mettle could not be known until it had passed through the furnace of trial.
Hers would not burn up and fade to ash. Not so long as she had breath left for prayer.
*
Darius wandered the halls, sending even his servants away from him. He needed no company—his thoughts provided more than enough of that.
Defeat—unfathomable. How did an army so large, a fleet so vast, fall to the ragtag city-states? Would Persia really toss up her hands and let the Greeks have their victory?
No. Some would stay and fight, the runner had said, under Mardonius. But Father was finished. He would rejoin them at Sardis in another five or six weeks, and from there
take his household home to Susa.
But why? Why spend four years preparing and then give it all over to a slave after nine short months on campaign? Why stand so firm at Thermopylae, burn Athens to the
ground, then sound the retreat after one day of battle at sea?
A face filled his vision, and he suspected she was his answer. Kasia. His father would miss her. He could understand that. He could even understand why Xerxes would love her
despite her infidelity. He still found it unbelievable that she had confessed to betraying him with another, but apparently Haman had been right.
And Father . . . did he not care? Had he decided to turn a blind eye? Was he willing to share her, so long as she also remained his?
Old fantasies roared to life. Was is possible she would accept him if he approached her?