“Daughter.”
She pulled back and turned toward Abba. He had stopped a few steps away. His face bore a few more lines, his hair a few more grays than she remembered. But it was still
Abba. The stubborn jaw, the strong build. Regret and longing colored his brown eyes.
Instead of flying, she moved to him with slow, measured steps. He held out his arms as his jaw quivered. Caught up in his embrace a moment later, such contentment rushed
through her that it took her a moment to notice Xerxes had joined them. He greeted Ima as if she were his own mother, jested with Zechariah.
“I have missed you, my daughter,” Abba murmured into her hair. “I hope you know that each piece of furniture we made for you, we crafted with love as much as hammer and
chisel.”
“I know, Abba.” But it did not escape her notice that none of her other siblings had come along.
She may be Abba’s daughter once again, but still he would not let her be a sister. In spite of all that had changed, some things had not.
Forty-Four
One year later, in the seventh year of the reign of Xerxes
Xerxes laughed as Zillah wobbled on her chubby legs and then plopped onto Chinara’s lap. The elder of his daughters grinned and tickled the baby, who squealed with delight.
Was there anything better than a stolen hour with his two favorite girls?
Their mothers swayed into view, and Kasia cast him a warm smile.
Perhaps there was one thing better. “Are you two back already?”
Jasmine chuckled and held out a hand to Chinara. “Afraid so. My parents will be joining us for the meal. Come, Chinara.”
The seven-year-old made no objections. Perhaps because she knew her grandparents always arrived with presents.
“Goodnight, Father.” She pranced over to give him a kiss and a squeeze, then dashed to her mother.
“Goodnight, Chinara. Goodnight, Jasmine.”
Kasia bade them farewell too and scooped up Zillah. Pressing a kiss to the girl’s cheek, she came to settle beside Xerxes on his couch. “And you are still dining with us?
”
“I am.” When Zillah wiggled back down to the floor, he slid an arm around Kasia and pulled her to his side. “And then I shall hide myself away here for the night so that
I might not have to deal with anymore of this Greek business.”
She smiled but shook her head. “You certainly will not. Another of your potential queens will come to you tonight, as you know very well.”
Xerxes groaned and let his head fall onto the back of the couch. “I have surely already dealt with twenty of them.”
“You have met ten.”
Ten of the most ambitious young women he had ever beheld. They were beautiful, they were well trained. But Hegai and Kasia could not give them the proper spirit. “I am not
in the mood. I shall tell Hegai—”
She gave him a playful punch. “You will not. Tonight is Esther’s turn.”
“Ah. Your friend.”
“My friend. You will like her, Xerxes. Not only is she more beautiful than the others, she is sweet and loving, obedient yet strong. She will be perfect.”
“Well, if you want me to be fair to her, you had better improve my mood.” He wiggled his brows and dug a finger into her side to make her squeal.
She obliged, jerked away, even jumped up so he could chase her. He tackled her onto her bed with a laugh and pulled the giggling Zillah into the heap as well. Yes, this was
what he needed. A reminder that life continued after Mardonius’s army returned defeated from Europe. He held wife and daughter close and took a moment to savor the
simplicity of life with them.
The longer he ruled, the more lands he owned, the smaller the world he cared about. He cared no longer about Europe, about satrapies or provinces. His family was enough. Yet
still he must rule and rule well. He must secure a legacy for that family.
Haman understood, though he was the only one. The only one who would quietly take care of the business of the empire that Xerxes did not want to be bothered with. The only
one who encouraged him to slip away now and then for a rejuvenating hour with Kasia and Zillah.
He enjoyed his hour with them now, the simple food Kasia ordered, the babe’s attempts to wrap her little tongue around “Father.” Kasia laughed and encouraged her to say
“Abba” instead, but he must put his foot down somewhere. “Try as you might to make me one, lovely Kasia, I am not a Jewish man. I cannot answer to a Jewish name.”
She grinned and whispered, “Say ‘Abba’” into Zillah’s ear again.
Xerxed chuckled and stood. “I shall have a talk with yours next time he visits to ask him where he went wrong in teaching you obedience.”
“He will be as clueless on the subject as you.” Kasia stood, Zillah on her hip, and tilted her face up for a kiss. “For which you ought to be grateful. Had I obeyed my
father, we never would have met.”