“Xerxes . . .”
He silenced her with a kiss. Then pulled off the torc he had slipped on and held it between them. “I believe this is yours.”
She stared at it. “I cannot. It was a gift to you.”
“And so I ought not to have given it away two weeks ago. I would have apologized for forgetting its source, had she approached me privately. Things have changed. It is
yours.” He slid it up her arm, as he had done at the river. Now, as then, desire filled her eyes. Desire that had nothing to do with the silver. “You will come with me, my
love, lest treachery visit this room again. I will see with my own eyes that you remain safe until the viper is out of my house.”
Kasia nodded and tucked herself against his side.
Why could the rest of the world not agree with his will so readily?
Twelve
Anger mixed with fear on Amestris’s tongue when Darius stole to her side. His face spoke much, though his lips remained pressed together. Bile rose in her throat. “My son?
”
Darius sat and silently took her hand. She had not seen him look so stricken since he received the news of his grandfather’s death three years earlier. He turned his head
toward the entrance to the hall. Amestris followed his gaze and sucked in a sharp breath when Memucan entered, flanked by the other six highest officials.
She gripped her son’s hand. “What is this?”
“You must have known he would retaliate, Mother,” Darius murmured. “You cannot disobey him before such an assembly and hope he will overlook it.”
Her chin tilted up. “It is he who has done wrong.”
When had her eldest son’s gaze become capable of such hardness? “When one rules the world, one is never wrong. He is the king of kings.”
Memucan held up his arms, and the chattering women fell silent. His eyes scanned the crowd before coming to a rest on her.
The pompous old man. She had never liked him, and she knew he took pleasure in whatever punishment he would now hand down. Amestris reclaimed her hand from Darius and folded
her arms over her chest.
“A grave crime has been committed tonight.” Memucan lowered his arms and glared at her. “You all bore witness to it. The king sent for Amestris, and she refused him with
words bitter and angry. Such offense is not to be suffered in the courts of Xerxes. Let all the world know that each man will remain ruler of his household and this woman
called Amestris is hereby stripped of her crown. She is never again to enter the presence of King Xerxes, and her position will be given to another. One more deserving.”
Amestris rose, wondering that she did not explode into pieces, given the way she shook. “No.” Her voice came out as no more than a murmur, weak and incredulous. “He
cannot. He cannot do this to me.”
The women, who had spent years currying her favor, had sought her smile and feared her wrath, looked at her with horror. On her behalf? No, they were horrified by her.
By her! She sucked in a breath, ready to spew venom at the first shrew who dared speak against her.
None did. With the silence of death, they all stood and, without so much as looking over their shoulders, strode from the room.
Her fingers curled into her palms. Never could these backbiters agree on anything, never could they work in harmony. Yet now, in her hour of need, they united against her?
She narrowed her gaze on the wife of her husband’s brother. “Parsisa. Do you dare leave your queen’s presence without permission? I have not dismissed this feast.”
The woman stopped but did not turn around. She moved only her face to present her profile. “You are not my queen.”
Amestris sputtered, lunged, but Darius caught her and held her captive. She shoved at him, cursed the sting of tears.
Crying was for the weak. For other women. Not for her.
“Mother—”
“He cannot do this to me. How could you let him do this, Darius?”
He set her back on her feet with a sigh, though he did not release her shoulders. “You are fortunate he did not order your death.”
Her blood ran cold. “He would not dare, not with his babe in my stomach.”
“An argument that only convinced him to stay your execution until after the birth.” Looking weary, Darius dropped his hands. “You have the Jewess to thank for your life.
It was her words, not mine, that convinced him to spare you.”
“The Jewess?” Her voice sounded hollow to her own ears. The Jewess could not possibly still be alive. She had ordered enough hemlock in her meal to fell five, no matter
which of the dishes she chose.