“But you love him.” Esther gripped her fingers and looked into one eye, then the other. “He is your Persian, and you are his favorite wife. How can you abide the
thought of others?”
“It is not always easy. To share him, or to love him.” She cast her gaze toward the window, needing the view of a world larger than the harem. Open skies, endless desert.
The sun slanted in, on its way to its nightly rest. Zillah had been fussy today, and she had not been able to get away earlier.
Esther sighed. “I do not know what I imagined when I agreed to this—other than it would get me away from Zech—but now that I am here . . . the other women are awful.”
“I know. It is no better in the house of wives. Amestris tried to kill me when I first arrived.” She smiled into Esther’s horrified gasp. “Things have changed for me
since I returned from the war, though. Shocking as it is, the others seem to look up to me now. Only because they know I have the king’s ear, but . . .”
“And his heart, if Hegai is right.” Esther moistened her lips. “But then—the stories. They make him sound . . .”
“Awful.” Her own reaction to Atossa’s description of him shifted into her recollection. “The deaths he has caused, the marriages he has destroyed.”
Esther shuddered. “How can you love him?”
It felt as though her whole being thudded, and shadows blurred her vision. All she could see was the horror on Pythius’ face, the shattered soul within Artaynte’s eyes.
The thousands upon thousands dead in the war while he sat on his throne and watched them die. How had she loved him through all that?
Is that your husband? The words whispered through her, cool and sweet as the Choaspes.
More images, blinding in their beauty. The tear on Xerxes’ cheek that gleamed with all the brilliance of a diamond. The haunting fear in his eyes when he considered losing
her. Those precious creases that fanned his mouth when he smiled at his children’s antics. The laughter so quick to replace anger in his eyes when she jested him out of a
temper.
Yes, sometimes greater concerns made him hard, even cruel. Yes, sometimes his temper got the best of him, and the world shook in consequence. But he who raged like no other
loved like no other.
She could hold tight to the pain to protect herself from more. But who, then, would show Xerxes the Lord? And Esther—Esther’s heart was too precious to stay closed, but
how could Kasia urge her to open it, if she kept her own locked tight?
She must let herself love. Not for the sake of her own happiness—that would hardly be worth the risk—but for their sakes.
She drew in a long, soothing breath, and felt Jehovah’s peace bloom inside her. “The heart of a king is a strange, wonderful thing, Esther. There are so many expectations
and demands he must balance. And because he is a man of passion, there are many times when he reacts before he thinks. I will make no excuses for that—more than once, he
has hurt those he loves because of his temper. But his love . . .” She let her eyes slide shut and shook her head. “There is nothing in the world like his love.”
She opened her eyes and saw tears in Esther’s. “I do not want to love him, Kasia. He is yours, first of all, and my heart has endured enough.”
“I want you to.” She wrapped an arm around the curve of her friend’s shoulder. “It will not be like it was with Zech—you can only have one first love—but you do not
want to close off your heart for the rest of your life. Perhaps you could survive, but you would not really live.”
Esther turned her face into Kasia’s shoulder. “He will not care for me. I am not you.”
“Perfect.” She chuckled and rubbed a hand over Esther’s arm. “He could not handle another of me. What you are, sweet sister, is a woman of depth and solidity. A woman
who can stand firm and peaceful through whatever chaos is tossed at you—and there will be plenty in the palace.”
“You are a better woman than I. I could not possibly want another to love the man I do, I could not want him to love her.”
Was that what she wanted? Her dearest friend to sigh over Xerxes, to send her secret smiles his way? Did she want her husband to desire Esther above any other? Above her?
The peace wavered. How could the Lord expect her to love again, only to watch it be rent in two? And yet she wanted Esther to be happy, to pass a life that was more than an
echo. She wanted her to find her place—which would never be secure without Xerxes’ regard.
Sweet, steady Esther who did not realize her own worth. He would love her. How could he not? And perhaps she could temper him. He needed that, needed someone who, rather
than jesting him from fury to passion, could soothe the savage edges of his soul.
But where would that leave her? The best friend of the queen, the once-favorite of the king. She would still have a night with him now and then. They would still laugh
together. She would still have Zillah, and perhaps another child or two down the road.