Artaynte did not seem to either. A cry of alarm whispered from her throat, and her hand covered her mouth. Eyes awash, she spun around. “Excuse me, Haman. I cannot—I
must—” She dashed away.
Haman let her go. He did not want to see the girl hurt, but what good would it do to shelter her from Darius’s nature? The prince would be just like his father and uncles,
always wanting whatever lovely face he did not already own. And because he was the prince, the heir, he could take whomever he pleased.
Even the Jewess. She may fight, but her strength would fail. And her servants would not dare step in, or their lives would be forfeit. Darius would be her undoing. With any
luck, she would get herself killed at his hand—but if not, it would be enough to ruin her forever in Xerxes’ eyes. He would not want her when she had been in another’s
arms.
Indulging in one chuckle, Haman turned to retrace his steps through the garden.
*
Kasia kicked Darius in the shin and would have kneed him in the groin had he not released her. By the time Theron surged her way again, Darius stood a step away.
She poked a furious finger into his chest. “Touch me again, and the king will have to find himself another heir.”
He had the audacity to grin. “And you wonder why I love you?”
Perhaps in another situation, she would have been amused at how like Xerxes he was. Not now. She stepped to the side of her servant and glared at the prince.
Darius sighed. “I will be here when you change your mind.”
“I will not.”
“We shall see.” He touched his finger to his lips and ambled away.
Theron put a steadying arm around her. “Mistress?”
“I will be all right, Theron.” Yet tears veiled her vision, and she sagged against him.
She had just lost the one friend she had left in her husband’s house.
Thirty-Three
Xerxes dug his heels into his horse’s flanks. For forty-five long days he had kept his pace steady, knowing the world watched his retreat. He would not give the Greeks the
satisfaction of thinking they chased him home—but his soul had strained toward Sardis. Now that it was within sight, he could curb himself no longer.
A horse approached from the city, and Xerxes smiled when he saw Haman upon it. He called out a greeting as his friend neared.
Haman fell in beside Xerxes. “Greetings, master. We have all been anxiously awaiting your return.”
“All?” Did he dare hope? He had to. Yet fear shadowed him. “What of your charge?”
Haman shrugged. “Who can know the mind of a woman? She does not seem so angry lately, but then, your son may have cajoled her out of her temper.”
His throat closed. “Darius?”
“Mm. Everyone else was wary of befriending an enemy of the god, but the prince took her under his wing. They have become . . . rather close.” Something cold and wary
sparked in Haman’s eyes. “You may want to speak to them about that.”
No. He trusted her. Even in her anger, she would not succumb to adultery—it went against everything her God advocated.
Although his son he was not so sure of.
He shook it off and urged his horse a little faster. “How is her health?”
“Well enough, I imagine. She spends most of her days out of doors, at the grave of her son.” Haman lifted a brow. “If you ask me, such behavior denotes an unhealthy
mental state.”
Xerxes chuckled. “You just admitted you do not know her thoughts, so forgive me for ignoring your judgment on her mental state.”
His friend sighed and looked over his shoulder. “Your brother is with you?”
“Directly behind. Go find him, I will ride ahead.”
He focused on the looming walls of the citadel. Another minute and he would be there. Two months’ separation over at last. If he had a god left to petition, he would have
sent up a prayer that Kasia receive him.
Instead, he concentrated on closing the distance, then nudged his steed toward the grave. Hopefully she would be there. If not, he would take a moment to pay his respects to
their son, then search her out inside.
The collection of figures he spotted was encouraging. Yes, it was Theron standing with folded arms beside the tree, so that must be Kasia sitting with her back to him.
She turned her head—his breath caught when he saw that beautiful profile. He swung off his horse.
Kasia pushed to her feet, and Xerxes swore his heart stopped. Would she flee? Turn her back on him again?
She rushed toward him, naked affection on her face. For the first time since the day of darkness, total peace blanketed his spirit. He ran forward. “Kasia.”
“Xerxes.” She flew into his arms, burying her face in his chest. “My love.”
He could not hold her tight enough, could not take in all the sensations. The fragrance of her hair, the feel of her arms around his waist, of their babe nudging him in the
stomach. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “My darling. Say you still love me. Say you forgive me.”