A masculine voice replied, “It is not a pet—it is a guard dog. You will spoil him, lady.”
Her shoulders stiffened as she looked up into the face of her husband’s brother. She had seen him several times this week, but never without Xerxes present. Something about
him always made her uneasy—perhaps embarrassment at having thought it Masistes she met at the river.
Or perhaps it was that predatory glint in his eyes.
Kasia forced a smile. “He deserves the spoiling after eating hemlock on my behalf.”
Theron shifted into alert. Masistes sent a demeaning glare her eunuch’s way that seemed to say, Remember your place, slave. “Are you looking forward to the journey this
week, lady?”
Masistes had sought her out in the private garden of the women’s palace to talk about travel? “It will be interesting to see more of my husband’s empire, but I confess I
shall miss Susa this summer.”
And her family. Abba and Ima, her brothers and sisters. Esther and Mordecai. But that was a pain she kept cradled close to her chest, especially as concerned Esther. She had
not mentioned her even to Xerxes, though she spoke of her family. Jehovah was the only one here who would understand how deeply she missed her young friend.
Masistes may have intended the curve of his lips to be a smile. It looked more like a sneer. “Nonsense—no one could miss Susa in the summer. It is unlivable.”
“And yet I lived here quite happily through sixteen summers.”
Masistes lowered himself to the ground beside her with a chuckle devoid of amusement. “Sixteen summers. Forgive me for saying so, but you are older than I would have
thought. How is it that my brother found you before you wed another? Such beauty rarely makes it to sixteen without a husband.”
She swallowed against the trepidation rising in her throat. “God obviously saved me for the king. He must have known I could love no other like Xerxes.”
He breathed an unconvinced laugh. “Or perhaps it is because, in spite of your alluring looks, your father could offer no dowry. I have sought out information on your family
—your beginnings were humble indeed. I imagine you are grateful for the increase in means.”
“Only because now I can help those who nurtured me so well, in spite of humble circumstances.” She focused her gaze on the dog. Perhaps if she ignored him, Masistes would
go away.
“Nine siblings.” Masistes shook his head. “I have claim to more, of course, but not from the same mother. And my father was able to support us all.”
Zad growled low in his throat. Kasia wished she could too. “My father supported us well.”
“Your father provided only for your basest needs.” His gaze swept down her and sent a chill up her spine. “What would happen to those siblings, I wonder, if something
were to befall your father? And if your brother slipped into Bijan’s blade?”
The dog’s growling grew louder. Kasia soothed him with a stroke and glanced at Theron, whose hands were fisted at his side. He could make no move against a menace not
physical, but she knew he waited for such an opportunity.
She looked back to Masistes. “Why do you threaten me? Do you hate me because I am a Jew, as Haman? Do you not like my closeness to your brother, as Amestris?”
“It is a strange closeness—one must wonder what he has found in you.” He plucked a lily and twirled it in his fingers. “He calls you every night he can. Visits you
during the day when he must see another that evening. And yet he cannot be as attached as he seems, since he is not taking you into Greece.”
He was not? Kasia drew her lip between her teeth.
Masistes’ half-smile had none of the charm of his brother’s. “Perhaps he is getting his fill of you now, since once we leave Susa it will be years before we meet up with
the royal house again. And my brother is not famous for his devotion to his wives. Once out of sight . . .”
She blinked back hot tears. Their love was too strong to be put aside, too consuming to be forgotten even after a separation of years. Was it not? She would not be relegated
to the ranks of all the other women so soon. Would she? “Why do you speak of these things?”
“I want you to be prepared.” He leaned close. So close she could smell the wine on his breath. “There is no purpose in loving a king. His heart belongs to Persia. You are
only a diversion, my dear, while he finalizes his preparations for the war. He will forget his feelings for you, and with his affection will go the support he is sending
your family.”
She turned her face away. “You know nothing of his heart.”
“I have known my brother all but the first two of his thirty-six years. You, but a few weeks. Do you dare claim to see him more clearly than I?”
She did—she must. But she only pressed her lips together.