Jewel of Persia

A few tears dripped onto Artaynte’s cheeks. “I thought . . . I thought you had already been unfaithful to the king. That was the rumor. I doubted it at first, but

then I saw the way Darius paid you attention, and jealousy . . . I began to think, ‘Why would she not give herself to him?’ Everyone else thought the same.”


The words burned. “Everyone else did not know me as you did. Everyone else had not spent hours in my wagon with me, chatting and dreaming. You knew how I loved Xerxes.”

She pressed her hands to her eyes and willed herself to calm down.

Artaynte edged closer. “Please tell me I have not ruined that too. Please. I have already caused so much damage.”

“It can never be the same.” Kasia took a step back. “I know now what you would both stoop to for your jealousy and pride. When I look at either of you, all I see is

someone who took deliberate action that you knew would be destructive. Took it because it would be destructive. And I want nothing to do with such a person.”

When she tried to step around her, Artaynte latched hold of her arm. “Kasia, please. Can you not see our sides too? His, at least. The king thought Darius had forced

himself on you. He thought you had been hurt.”

Kasia drew in a quavering breath. How long had she staved off jealousy? But it still snapped at her, threatened her. Still whispered in her ear that Artaynte taking Xerxes’

part meant things were not as over as they should have been. She breathed a silent plea for help.

Then realization creased her brow. “You still call him ‘the king.’ I have never heard you use his name.”

Artaynte wrapped her arms around her stomach. “He always terrified me.”

“Even now?”

“Especially now.” She offered a weak smile. “You are the only one who calls him by name consistently, Kasia.”

Because she had always thought herself in love with the man, not the king. She had to wonder, now, if she had been wrong to draw a distinction. But that was not to the point

in this moment.

After another silent prayer, Kasia gripped Artaynte’s hand. “I appreciate that you want to help relationships heal. You do realize now that nothing ever happened between

me and Darius, do you not?”

She nodded. “He explained his feelings, told me what happened that day I saw him kiss you. I explained my heart, my hurt. We are going to try to put everything else aside

and build a marriage.”

“Good. That is good.” But as she led Artaynte along the path, she felt certain that some things would always remain rooted between them all. Between husbands and wives,

between father and son. Between friends.

She could try to forgive. But it would not change facts.





Forty-Three



Zechariah paced the confines of the small receiving chamber and refused to be intimidated by its wealth. How long had he been waiting for Kasia? It felt like half of

forever, but probably only a few minutes.

He had to talk to her. See if she had seen Esther, make sure she was well.

Hurried footsteps sounded seconds before the door swung open. When Kasia stepped in along with a passel of servants, a smile won over his mouth, and he put thoughts of

Esther aside for a few minutes. “Kasia.”

“Zech.” She flew through the room and into his arms, but he still had time enough to note how little she had changed. Her face had a few more angles, her hair seemed a

little different. Certainly, she wore finer clothing than she ever had at home, and a simple gold rope around her neck. But none of the audacity of the rest of the palace.

He swung her around and gave her a mighty squeeze. “I missed you, little sister.”

“I missed you too, big brother. And I mean big.” She laughed and rested her hands against his biceps. “You are hulking. Did you get taller?”

“Or else you shrank.”

She gave him a playful punch, then another squeeze of a hug. “Did Mordecai talk to Abba?”

“He tried, but you know Abba. I promised Ima I would sneak her over if it came down to it, though. She wants to meet this granddaughter of hers. When Mordecai said you

named her after her . . .”

“Let me introduce you.” She turned to one of the maids and took a sleeping baby from her arms. “Your niece, Zillah.”

Zechariah smoothed a hand over her downy head. “Are you going to let me hold her, or is there some law forbidding commoners to touch the children of a king?”

Kasia laughed and eased the girl into his arms. “There may be, but I pay little attention to such things.”

His smile strained. “You still have no fear, I see.”

What was that that flickered across her face? She shrugged. “One of the benefits of being the king’s favorite.”

“I cannot believe my sister holds that title.”

Her breath of a laugh did not sound amused. “Sometimes I cannot either.” Not-amused hardened into sober. “I also could not believe that Esther accepted a marriage

contract. Mordecai said the two of you were nearly betrothed.”

Cradling his niece close, Zechariah drew in a long breath. “I fell in love with her. Is that so hard to believe?”

“That part? No. So what happened?”

Not a conversation for a reunion. “Have you seen her yet? Is she well?”