Jewel of Persia

Mordecai drew in a long breath at Kasia’s side. “I fear I am dreaming,” he murmured, so quietly she barely heard.

“I know.” Kasia smiled. She nearly laughed when she saw the way Esther’s fingers gripped the edge of her robe, then slowly released it. No one else would notice. No one

else would realize that even now, she doubted herself. Kasia knew—and knew too that she would soon come into her own.

Xerxes slowly lowered the crown. When the gold found its perfect fit around Esther’s gleaming hair, Kasia sensed light drape her friend along with the diadem. A shiver of

recognition swept over her.

All her life she had heard stories of the prophets. Of their mantles, their commissions. Esther had just been give hers—not by the king of the kings, but by the Lord of

lords. Would she feel it? Know it? Perhaps not in full, not yet, but Kasia saw the subtle change come over her face.

Peace. Always she had exuded a measure of it, but before it had been her own. This . . . this was the Lord’s, lent to her. Her countenance shone with it.

Kasia blinked back tears. Proud ones and joyous ones. And perhaps one or two that came from realizing her own purpose must now be fulfilled. She had given her husband the

wife he needed most, had given Persia its perfect queen. No longer was she the sole ambassador of the Lord to the palace.

She would still have to pray, relentlessly and diligently, especially since Esther would not have that freedom. But she would do that from the comfort of her rooms, where

she would tend her family. No longer from Xerxes’ side when he stood as king before the nations.

So be it.

A roar of approval sounded from the crowd as her husband helped Esther to her feet and turned her to face them. She gave the masses a sweet smile.

Xerxes lifted a hand to silence the gathering. “Let the word go out that we shall feast to honor Queen Esther!”

More shouts and whoops, claps and cheers. Musicians took their cue to lift their instruments. Kasia lost sight of Esther as the crowd swarmed forward to meet her.

“A day of rejoicing in Persia.” Mordecai loosed a contented sigh. “You did well, Kasia.”

She nodded. Part of her wanted to slip away unnoticed, but she would not. “We should find couches.”

“I shall get us drinks.”

More than wine, she suspected he wanted a moment with his own thoughts. Kasia smiled and turned away. When Haman stepped into her path, she wished she had stayed with

Mordecai instead.

“Lady.” Though his lips turned up, his eyes glinted cold and hard.

Kasia sighed. “Haman. It was a lovely ceremony, was it not?”

He leaned closer. His cloying scent clawed at her, making her head spin with . . . what? She backed up a step. Haman sneered. “Your star is setting, Jewess. You think

yourself clever, recommending a bride you think a friend? Your song will change when the king falls in love with her and she forgets you. Your spell will finally be broken.



Forcing a swallow, Kasia lifted her chin. “If that is Jehovah’s will, I will praise him for it.”

Haman snorted and spun away. Kasia stood where he left her for a long moment, until a familiar arm slipped around her waist. Xerxes pressed a kiss to her temple. “I thought

you would be pleased, my love. Why do you look so stricken?”

“It is only Haman. There is something about him . . .”

Her husband chuckled and turned her toward the couches. “A centuries-old feud, nothing more.” He turned her around and gazed long into her eyes. “I love you entirely. You

know that, right? Perfect as she may be for my queen, your young friend will never replace you in my heart. It is impossible.”

The truth of that shone from his eyes. And when Esther headed their way, she aimed her smile at Kasia rather than Xerxes.

Realization settled over Kasia. For now at least, she was the thread that held them together.

Will you follow me even here? Will you lend your strength to their marriage?

She drew in an uncertain breath. She loved them both—but did she really have strength enough to sustain not only her own relationships with each of them, but also theirs?

And even if she did . . .

Esther joined them, gripped her hand, and smiled. That new peace in her eyes brushed over Kasia like Ima’s loving touch.

Yes, Lord. I will.

*

Persepolis, Persia



Amestris hurled the wooden tablet against the wall. Some low-born nobody now sat on her throne, wore her crown. Well, the new, beautiful, young Queen Esther would soon wake

up from her dream-come-true and realize she held no power in Persia. Nor would she ever—not if Amestris had anything to say about it.