Esther tossed her head back, though no answers were scratched into the ceiling. This was unbelievable. Years she had waited for this day, the day Zechariah confessed
his heart and took her into his arms. She had passed through the afternoon on a cloud of bliss, had come home this evening so happy. When Mordecai returned, she had spilled
her good news, only to be hit with this. “Cousin. I respect you above anyone. I know Jehovah speaks to you. But this makes no sense.”
“I realize that.” He rested his head on his hand. “I will spend the night in prayer, Esther. Perhaps the Lord will show me what can be done to resolve the issue.”
She held her place as Mordecai stood again and shuffled toward his chamber. Was it so easy for him? He would go, he would pray? He would hear, he would obey?
Well, what of her? Would Jehovah really expect her to give up the man she had always loved? Without even a reason?
No. She would not. She had already lost her parents, her only real friend. Asking her to relinquish Zechariah was just too much. She had never disobeyed Mordecai before, but
she would fight him on this.
Oh, she could not simply go to sleep and await his decision. She grabbed her shawl and headed out the door, toward the river.
She had not made the trek in moonlight since she first discovered Zechariah’s clandestine training, but her feet did not stumble. Each step into the cooling night air
cleared her mind and soothed a ragged edge inside her.
At least this was not like the last time she walked this gilded path. Mordecai’s words were not as final as Kasia’s death. Fear of his decision would not induce nightmares
like fearing Zechariah would die by the sword.
Still, the memories flooded her mind, bringing thoughts of losing Kasia to the fore, then of Zechariah’s training. He still rose before the dawn, she knew—some mornings
she would watch him leave, a large, fluid shadow in the pearly grey light.
A shadow much like the one moving ahead. Exactly like. She nearly called out to him—but he had probably come out here to think and pray before speaking with Mordecai
tomorrow, and she did not want to interrupt. Happy to observe him undetected, she found a dark spot to nestle in for a few minutes. She would catch him when he was on his
way back, and they could walk home together. Perhaps share another of those heart-racing kisses.
Her eyes slid shut as she relived those minutes in his arms that morning. Soon she would awake each day in that beautiful bed he had carved for her, snuggled against him. He
would get up to exercise, and she would rise to tend the baby that would surely join them within a year. Finally, life would be perfect.
“Zechariah.” A female voice. Esther’s eyes flew open and scanned the moonlit shadows. There, a cloaked woman ran toward Zechariah.
The figure threw herself into Zechariah’s arms. He caught her, quickly set her away.
But why would a strange woman think she could greet him that way?
Zechariah glanced over her shoulder. Esther looked too, and saw a few servants a stone’s throw away. Whoever she was, she must be wealthy.
His whisper streaked through the night and slithered over Esther as well as their intended recipient. “Ruana, what is so important that you would threaten to come to my
home to discuss it? You know this is over.”
Esther’s heart sputtered. This?
“Nice to see you again too, Zech.”
“Ruana—”
“I know, I know.” The woman’s voice . . . it sounded strained, as though she strove for levity to hold back tears. “It was wrong, you are in love with another. You have
made yourself clear.”
“Have I?” Zechariah spoke lowly, bordering on harsh. “Then why are we here?”
A very good question.
The woman—Ruana, was it?—sighed. “I had to speak with you one last time. To explain . . . and to let you know.”
Moonlight caught his jaw as it lifted. “Let me know what?”
Dread slowed Esther’s blood.
Ruana’s head dipped forward. “I am with child.”
Dear Jehovah, no—there was only one reason she would feel she had to tell Zechariah such news . . .
He sucked in a sharp breath. “It is mine?”
The woman breathed a dry laugh. “There has been no one else since my wedding night, Zech.”
Wedding night? She was married, and Zechariah still . . . had . . .
His hands landed on Ruana’s shoulders. Would they be gentle or firm? Even from here, she could hear the quickness of his breath. “Ruana—have you told Asho? Is he angry?
If you are in any danger—”
“No, nothing like that.”
Perhaps her words brought relief to Zech. But his slicked another layer of desperate incredulity over Esther. If, then what? What would he do to help this woman, his . . .
his lover? Steal her away from her husband? Run off with her?
Leave Esther to face a broken future?
Or would he care for her in secret and keep lying to everyone else? Let Esther think she was the only one he wanted, the only one he cared for, then sneak off to see to his
bastard child?
Oh, Lord above. How had Mordecai known?
“He is not angry?”
Ruana shook her head. “On the contrary. Zech . . . that was his whole purpose in recommending I take a lover. He said you realized his . . . tastes, when he came to your
shop last time. He has no interest in me, not in that way. But he needs an heir.”