They had obviously heard enough to know that nothing was the same this morning.
His mother exited her bedchamber and smiled. Oblivious, even victorious. He felt heavier than ever. “My son,” she said in greeting. “I was wondering when you would come
by to thank me.”
What world did she live in, that she could think her actions so simple, so . . . acceptable? “I cannot thank you. You mutilated my wife’s mother.”
Amestris waved that off. “You know as well as I that you did not want her ruling you through Artaynte. Now that she is gone, and now that your harlot of a wife’s true
nature is known, you can put her aside.”
“I will not.” Even after swallowing, his throat felt dry. “Artaynte and I have decided to forgive past wrongs and try to build a true marriage.”
She stared, then her lips curled back. “Fool! Why would you forgive her? She made a laughingstock of you.”
“And of you?”
“Yes, and of me. She and your father both—he cannot treat us this way, then shove the blame onto another. To kill his own brother when he dared stand against him, to—”
“He can, Mother. He is king. He is never to blame when someone rebels against him.” She would never accept that, he knew. Odd, since she thought that very rule applied to
her. He sighed. “Moreover, he apologized. He came as a father, not as a king, and begged me to forgive him.”
She spat out a few curses and spun to the window, to the table, back to him. “He betrayed you!”
“Yes. But I would have betrayed him first, had his wife not been of stronger morals than mine.”
“The Jewess?” Her voice ran as cold as the snow-fed Choaspes. “I ought to have known. With your father, everything goes back to the Jewess.”
“At the moment, it all goes back to you, and what you did.” He had asked Father to let him do this. To let him draw the line. “You will be sent away, Mother. You may go
to whichever capital you please, but never again will you be near us.”
Her eyes narrowed on his face. “‘We’? You align yourself with your father? Even after he stole your wife?”
“He is capable of atrocities. You both are. The difference is that he always regrets them and does not make the same mistake again. You revel in them and find new, bigger
ways to horrify the world.”
“No, the difference is that he acts only for himself and his Jewish witch. All I do, all I am is for my children.”
“I could do without your actions.” He took a step back. Not in retreat, but in symbolism. “When I am king, I will echo my father’s edict and keep you apart. You are a
threat to your family and the empire. If not for the swift action of my father’s men, the kingdom would be falling into war even now.”
“It would have served him right.”
“And it would have served me right to have to deal with a fractured empire. Yet I daresay you did not think of that.” He drew in a breath. “You will leave tomorrow.”
She stood still as a statue, but for the sparks flying from her eyes. “Do not align yourself against me, Darius. I have more power than you can know, more even than your
father in the ways that matter.”
“You will be stripped of it. Even now the scouts are out in search of young women, one of which will be the next queen.”
She sneered. “You think it will be so easy? As long as I have breath, I will have might. I warn you now—stand with him instead of me, and you will fall with him. I have
other sons. I will raise one of them up instead of you, one that will give me the honor I am due.”
He heard the rustle behind him, felt the movement of his brother. Hystaspes stood just behind him, at his right elbow.
He glanced at his sisters. Amytis rose, grabbed Rhodogune’s hand, and dashed behind the cover of her brothers.
Their mother shook. But no fear, no uncertainty showed on her face. “Will you steal my babe from me too?”
He and Father had already discussed that. “Artaxerxes will stay with you half the year, in the summer. He will winter here with us. Beginning next year, once he is weaned.
”
Perhaps, had tears filled her eyes or pain tinged the anger, he would have felt some pity. But she only snarled. “You will all regret this. If my youngest is the only one I
have left, then in my youngest will I put all my efforts. My youngest I will see on the throne. And do you know why? Because you are too weak to kill your own mother—but
your mother is not too weak to kill her own sons.”
“Goodbye, Mother.” Turning, he guided the flock of his siblings out the door.
Forty-One