Jewel of Persia

He shook his head, and his eyes went hard. “I will not watch another babe be snatched from your womb, and I will not tempt the god to snatch you from me as well. It

seems Ahura Mazda will not grant me both a child with you and victory. So until I have one, we will not pursue the other.”


A gust of wind screamed up the valley and whipped around her. In spite of the weaving of their fingers, it felt as though she could not touch him, that no bridge could span

the chasm yawning open at her feet. An ache pulsed in her empty womb. “You will deny me the rights of a wife?”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I realize this is largely my fault. Perhaps the god is jealous of my love for you. Or perhaps he is displeased I allow such willfulness

about Jehovah. Either way, I cannot risk your life anymore. Until we have our victory in hand, Kasia . . .”

Her head spun as she stared into the nothingness below. “I just lost a son—now I lose a husband.”

“You have not lost me.” Yet the assurance was tinged with frustration. “We will still spend our days together.”

When he got that particular glint of determination in his eye, arguing with him was useless. Neither could she agree. So she just held his gaze until he looked away and

tugged her forward.

The ranks had taken up formation along the road again. Some of the commanders were already astride their horses, others milling about with last minute preparations. Kasia

glanced at the palace to search for Artaynte and Parsisa—she had seen neither since their farewells yesterday.

“Pythius is waiting for us,” Xerxes said.

He stood at the edge of the road, his stance stooped yet rigid. When they approached, his gaze swept over her and his eyes went wide. “I did not believe it when they told

me you were up and about already, lady. But had I not seen you with my own eyes yesterday . . .”

“I know.” She gripped the hand he held out. “Thank you, my friend, for all you did to help. I would have died had Jehovah not sent you.”

Xerxes growled under his breath and released her other hand.

Pythius squeezed her fingers. “I wish he would have sent me sooner, so that I could have caught you before you fell.” He gave her a tired smile and let go of her hand,

then turned to Xerxes. “My lord. You have become a true friend these last few months, and I am grateful for this chance to know you.”

Her husband smiled, but it fell short of his eyes. “Likewise, Pythius. Your generosity to me and my troops will live on long after you. I only sorrow that now we must part.



“The army is no place for an old man like me.” Pythius’s mouth wobbled up into an anxious smile. “I would ask a favor, my lord.”

“After all you have done for us? Anything.”

Pythius squared his shoulders. “Thank you. As you know, all five of my sons are set to march with you. I would ask that you release the eldest from military service, so

that he might care for me and his mother in our old age.”

Kasia’s breath caught. The request sounded reasonable to her, but obviously Xerxes disagreed. His fingers curled into his palm. “Why would you ask this? Victory is

guaranteed.”

“It is war. Even the side that wins will suffer losses—I fear my sons will be among them.” His laugh sounded rusty and afraid. “Can you blame an old man for wanting one

son left at home to carry on his name? You yourself leave your heir behind—”

“Which was well established before this.” Xerxes’ eyes flashed with fury. “I did not change my mind out of cowardice when the darkness fell from the sky.”

A decade fell off Pythius’s face when he lifted his chin. “Sometimes fear is a sign of wisdom. How you can stand before your men and claim the darkness was a good omen—”

“Do you dare speak against the god? It was a promise of victory!”

“The only promise I felt yesterday was when I escaped your god in the presence of Kasia’s.”

For a moment, Kasia feared Xerxes would strike him. “Curse you, Pythius! I expect doubt from the low-born rabble, but not from you. If I release your son, everyone will

know you asked out of fear and will succumb to their own. Yet here you are, proclaiming your doubt of the god and asking the impossible.”

“I only ask for one son.”

She had seen her husband angry countless times. Furious, disappointed. But all his frustrations over incompetence, all the ranting and fuming he was famous for dimmed in

comparison to what burned now in his eyes.

Betrayal, underscored by pain. It turned his eyes dark and feral and made his muscles quiver. “Zethar. Bring Pythius’s eldest son.”

Pythius said nothing as the eunuch headed for a group of nearby men. Did he taste fear, as she did? She tried to swallow it down and stepped closer to Xerxes when she would

rather have stepped away. “What will you do?”

His arm felt tense as stone when she put her hand on it. His gaze stayed trained on Pythius. “I held you up before all the world. Announced that your generosity was a sign

of the god’s blessing.”

Pythius sucked in a long breath. “I know.”

“I take all my family with me, with no guarantees that any will come home again. Yet a slave asks for his son?”