She drew in a deep breath. “Though I imagine it will return on the morrow.”
For a moment he only stared at her. Then the fear-saturated sorrow overtook his countenance. “Not again.”
“It will be all right.” She rested her forearms against his torso and patted his chest. “I am already farther along than the other times. This one will hold.”
Xerxes shook his head, his nostrils flaring. “You cannot know how it kills me to watch you go through this time and again, Kasia. The hope, the joy. The pain. I ought to be
flayed for my part in it all—were I a stronger man, I would never touch you again.”
He had threatened as much after the third miscarriage. “Shall I leave?”
When she feigned pulling away, he growled and held her captive. Just as she had known he would. “The damage is already done.”
She smacked his arm. “A baby is not damage, Xerxes!”
“But the loss of one is.”
Irritation tickled her chest, but it faded when she looked into his eyes. Each pain had struck him as acutely as it had her, if for different reasons. He could not
understand the loss of hope—he was not a woman, and he had so many children already. But he grieved with her. He soothed each tear, held her through each dark night.
She brushed her hand over his cheek. “Why mourn for a child who is healthy and whole in my womb? Whatever the reason I could not carry beyond a few weeks before, this is
different. It is.”
“Let us pray so. I confess part of me hoped you would never conceive again. I know you long for a child of your own, but more than another son I need you. And I fear that
one of these miscarriages will take you along with our babe.”
“At the risk of sounding treasonous, my love, I do not want a baby because you need ever-more sons. You can hardly keep count of the ones you have already. But I need a
child.”
He dropped his arms and spun away. It may have irritated her except that he turned back with a shawl and draped it over her arms. She had not even noticed her goosebumps.
Xerxes sent her a tight-lipped stare that always made others run for cover. “Why, then? Because of that ridiculous warning I issued your first week with me? That your
future will be insecure without them? I promise you, Kasia, you will be taken care of. I will give you a city—ten cities to guarantee it.”
“You are always so generous with your cities.” She pulled the fabric up over her shoulders and breathed in the faint scent of myrrh. “It is not that. I need a little one
to love.”
Though he grumbled, he put his arm around her and led her to the lavish lounge area his servants set up each night. “Perhaps it will help that we will not be traveling much
longer. You can grow large in Sardis while we wait out the winter.”
“See? All will be well.” She grinned and settled into her usual spot against a large pillow.
Xerxes sat beside her and nodded at his servants. They rolled up a corner of the tent and secured it.
Hills undulated into distant mountains, creating a vista strange and beautiful. As they marched, the golds and bronzes and coppers she knew gave way to waving amber grasses,
trees large and green without the help of irrigation canals, and those mountains looming emerald before them. Beautiful . . . but still she missed Susa.
Xerxes tucked her to his side and rested his head against hers. Neither spoke. Not now, while they waited for the crimson streaks of sun to fade from the sky, for the rich
shadows to drape over the mountains. They cuddled close and watched the heavens for the first prick of diamond light.
“There,” he whispered in her ear, indicating a place she had looked at a minute earlier and found empty. Now a single point of brilliance shone.
Her lips pulled up. Be with Esther, Lord Jehovah. Wherever she is, whatever she does, bless her. May she shine like the star after which she is called.
As if he knew exactly when her silent prayer had ended, Xerxes motioned for the tent to be lowered into place, tilted back her head, and kissed her until the servants left
them alone.
*
Xerxes could not withhold a smile when he looked down the hill behind him. His army stretched along the road as far as the eye could see. Had a greater force ever been
assembled in all of mankind? If so, he had never heard of it. Surely there were more than a million soldiers—it took them over a week to march past any given point.
Celaenae was within sight, and a small group moved toward them on the road. When Masistes and Haman reined in beside him, he arched a brow. “Who is that, do you know?”
Masistes nodded. “That is why we searched you out. It is Pythius, the richest man in Lydia. I have been told his wealth is second in the world only to yours.”
“Interesting.” Why had he heard no mention of the man until now? “What does he want?”
Haman inclined his head. “To offer hospitality to you and your army.”
Xerxes grinned. “Well then. Let us meet him. Wait—I will fetch Kasia first, so that she might rest in comfort the sooner.”