“She is fine, I will speak with her in private soon—and in the meantime, I am speaking to you. What happened?”
He sighed. “I wooed her as I built our house. It was finished, I declared myself, was going to speak to Mordecai the next day . . . and then Esther overheard something.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What kind of something?”
“I . . . that . . .” No matter how he phrased it, it would sound terrible. Was terrible. “That I had been involved with Bijan’s sister.”
Far too quickly, her eyes widened. “Zechariah son of Kish! Bijan said his sister is married.”
She was not the only one who could narrow her eyes in that look stolen from Ima. “When were you chatting with Bijan?”
“On the way to Sardis from Thermopylae, which is irrelevant. Define ‘involved.’”
He pitched his voice to a bare murmur. “She carries my child.”
Her fist connected with his arm hard enough to make him wince. She never had pulled her punches, and her eyes spat genuine fury at him. “Idiot! How could you do that? To
Esther, first of all, but—Zech. Adultery?”
As if he did not know how sinful he was? “Must you say it like that? Like I am the worst kind of man?”
“Not so far off.”
“Oh, look in your own house, Kasia. From what I hear, your husband is no paragon of virtue, stealing his own son’s wife.”
“Thank you for that reminder.” Her face a stone mask, she took the baby back. “Tell Ima I miss her.”
“Kas, wait.” Gusting out a breath, he caught her as she spun away. “I am sorry. He . . . I have never even seen this man, yet first he stole my sister, then the woman I
would have married.”
“For which you ought to praise God.” She jerked her arm free but did not try to run away again. “There are those who are not pleased with how much power I have over him,
Zech. And unfortunately, one of them is now at his right hand. When she is queen—”
“You mean if.”
“I mean when. When she is queen, she will be able to do much for the Jews without earning the obvious contempt of Haman and his like.”
Zech shoved frustrated fingers through his hair. “I have lost her to politics?”
“You have lost her to your own stupidity, and do not forget it.” She jerked her chin up. Her nostrils flared. “Three years apart, and still we squabble like—”
“Siblings.” He forced a grin and tugged on a lock of her hair. “I have missed your squabbling. The others do not squabble like you do.”
She laughed, then sighed. “I have missed you, Zech. I am sorry things did not work out as you wished, but this is all in Jehovah’s plan. I know it, here.” She splayed a
hand over her heart.
“You sound like Mordecai.”
Her lips quirked up. “We have apparently shared many prayers over these past three years.”
For a moment, he could only stare. Kasia had always struck him as an average Jew—she knew the Law, certainly she believed in Jehovah. Like him. But now . . . she did not
just sound like Mordecai, now that he thought on it. She . . . seemed like him, too. “You were never one for much prayer at home.”
Her eyes went soft, yet intense. “It became far more necessary here. I would be dead several times over had Jehovah not protected me.”
Like that day Mordecai had writhed in pain for her. He nodded.
“Mistress.” The eunuch at the door sent her a warning glance. “The king comes.”
Zechariah bit back a curse. “I should go.”
“No. He will want to meet you, or he would not come.”
And what of what Zechariah wanted? Because it was certainly not to face Esther’s husband. The very words made everything within him clench up. But there was no other exit
to the room, and he would probably run directly into him if he tried to leave the way he had come.
A swarm of men entered, but there was no mistaking the king. He was taller than Zechariah had expected, every bit as tall as Mordecai, and broad. Well-muscled, especially
for a man who did nothing but sit on a throne all day—and seduce other men’s women.
He wanted to dislike him on sight, and on principle. But then Xerxes looked at Kasia with the same expression Abba always had when he glanced Ima’s way. How was Zechariah
supposed to hate a man who loved—genuinely loved—his sister?
“I hope I am not interrupting, but I wanted to meet some of your family, my love.”
Kasia repositioned the babe and shot her husband a glance half amused and half frustrated. “Allow me to make introductions, then. Zech, this is Xerxes, the king of kings
and self-proclaimed master of creation, who thinks he can bend all of nature to his whim. Xerxes, my stubborn, idiotic brother Zechariah who understands consequences about
as well as you do. You two have much in common. Enjoy each other’s company.”
With that, she left. Actually left him there, standing in the room with no one but the king and his servants.
Xerxes stepped to his side, his gaze on Kasia’s retreating back. “She is the only person in the world who would dare speak to me like that.”