She trembled under his hands. “I will give you all that I am, all that I have . . . but I must know that it will not be for nothing.”
He knew what she wanted—promises of love, his word that he would give up dreams of the one he could not have and focus his heart on her. He could say the words, but they
would be empty.
Too long had he used dreams of Kasia to distract him from frustrations with Artaynte. Now he could not banish her from his mind. He ought to have listened to Artabanas when
Kasia first arrived and kept from so much as thinking of her. Perhaps then it would not have been so easy to fall in love.
Climbing back out—was that even possible?
“Darius.”
He closed his eyes against the heartbreak in her tone. “It will not be for nothing. We will find a way to make our union strong.”
They might as well start now. If fantasies of one woman could have such great effect, perhaps the reality of another could do even more.
*
Susa, Persia
Kasia let the emotions crash over her, let the tears well, let her breathing go ragged. Two and a half years since she last set eyes on the golden bronze of home, and now it
stretched out before her. Sun-baked and beautiful, long-missed and familiar.
Susa. She stood on the wall of the palace and looked out at the city. Sought and found the market, the temple, Abba and Ima’s house. And there, three doors down, Mordecai
and Esther. She splayed her hands over the kicking babe within her. Would Abba relent and agree to meet his granddaughter? Let her put the child in Ima’s arms, the first of
the next generation?
Or was it? Zechariah could be married. The twins probably were. She had missed so much, knew so little of them.
Zechariah, at least, she could see. The liaison between the palace and Abba’s shop said he would be by with deliveries in a few weeks. She would speak to him, wrap her arms
around him. Ask him to beg Abba to bring Ima to the palace.
Arms closed around her from behind, hands covered hers on her large stomach. Kasia smiled. “It is good to be home.”
Xerxes pulled her back against him and rested his cheek on the top of her head. “Indeed. You are thinking of your family. If you would like to go visit them—”
“Not without Abba’s leave. But my brother will come to the palace soon, and I will speak with him then. Perhaps he can convince my father to let me come, or to bring Ima
here.”
“Anything you want. Perhaps your mother could attend you when you labor. That would make you happy, I think.”
She knit her fingers through his. “Very.”
“Look there.” He turned them a bit, toward the river. Figures walked along it; some too far away to seem anything but specks, a few close enough to make out their costly
Persian attire. Apparently the whole city had been in mourning, but rejoicing had taken its place when they saw their king home safe and well. “There is the spot where I
first saw you.”
A grin tugged on her mouth. “Oh, I have not forgotten.”
He chuckled in her ear, and then nipped playfully at it. “It is almost strange to remember that day now, after all we have been through in so short a time.”
“Mmm. And yet it is still clear as crystal in my mind. The derision on Haman’s face, the intrigue on yours.” She rested her head against his shoulder. “All because I
enjoyed wading in cold waters. What would you have done had I been drowning?”
Xerxes rubbed the spot where the babe prodded. “Dashed in and hauled you up. And once I had you in my arms and gazed into those eyes, I imagine I would have fallen in love
as surely as I did through your conversation. Although had it happened that way, I would not have seen your loyalty and bravery—facing down two of those awful Persians to
protect your sister.”
Her sister. Only in heart. She ought to have told him long ago that it had been her friend behind her, not one of the twins, but what was the point, now? “She needed
protecting from you barbarians—she is a beautiful girl.”
“Is she?” He tickled her side. “I confess I could not tell you anything about her, other than that she was. You had my total attention.” He kissed her on the cheek.
“You still do.”
“Well I . . .” She lost her breath when her stomach tightened.
Xerxes turned her halfway around. “What was that? Was that a contraction?”
“Doubtfully. Not a real one, anyway. My mother often had small contractions in the weeks leading up to a birth. She said it got her body ready.”
Her husband frowned, looking far from convinced. “You should be resting. The quick travel has probably taken its toll on you.”
“I am fine.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “I will see you safely back to your little speck of a room and into bed, and if these not-real pains continue, one of your servants had
better notify me.”
She wanted to grin at the renewal of insults for her small room, but her stomach was still so tense—and hard, like a rock. Lying down would be welcome. “I will not argue.
But it is nothing.”