Pythius shut his eyes.
Kasia did too, and rested her forehead against the unforgiving muscle of her husband’s arm. Still, she heard the approaching footsteps and the curious greeting of Pythius’
s son.
A tremor coursed through Xerxes’ arm and shook Kasia all the way to her soul. “Your king has already given one son in this effort.” His voice emerged steady. “Now you
will do the same. Zethar, have this man cut in two and staked to either side of the road. Let all the army see as they march past what happens to those who betray Persia.”
“Xerxes, no.” She wanted to scream it, wanted to throw herself in front of the condemned and beg for mercy. But she could find no breath, and the world spun when she tried
to move. Yet again she felt herself falling. Maybe this time the jagged ground would swallow her whole.
An arm caught her around the middle—her stomach rebelled. Dry heaves wracked her long after Xerxes lowered her to a rest at his feet. When she opened her eyes, Pythius was
on his knees, head bowed, and his son was being led silently away.
Xerxes crouched beside her, but she averted her face. “How could you do this?”
“Better they fear the wrath of their king than think they have lost the favor of their god.” He forced her to a sitting position and studied her face. Fury still sparked
in his eyes. It left little room for compassion. “You are unwell. If you would rather remain in Sardis, you may.”
He stood and strode away, leaving her to sway upon the rocky soil. Her gaze tracked to that plot of newly turned ground. It must hold her heart as well as her son, for
surely there was nothing left inside her.
Pythius staggered to his feet and moved to her, pulled her up. A sheen of moisture covered his eyes. “Why does seeking your God above his cost us our sons, Kasia?”
She could only shake her head.
“I should have known not to ask. I should have realized . . .”
“How could you have anticipated that?”
Nostrils flaring, he patted her arm. “Go with him.”
Why? Why go and be denied both her husband and her Lord? She looked toward the tiny grave again.
Pythius turned her face with a firm finger. “Your place is among the living, daughter. Go with your husband. You are his heart, and who knows what he might do without you
by his side.”
Her gaze swung to the wagon, where Xerxes stood, back to the world. Something twisted inside her. She gave Pythius a swift hug and left him.
Jehovah God, do not abandon us yet.
Her husband gripped the wooden side of the wagon with white knuckles. Slipping up behind him, she slid her arms around his waist—he felt like a statue.
He pulled in a labored breath. “You should stay. Your heart is too fragile for war.”
“You are my heart, Xerxes.”
He said nothing, but he turned his head so she could see his profile.
From ahead of them, blood-curdling screams pierced the air. She knew that within minutes, everyone would know about the king’s order, the king’s wrath.
Only she saw the single tear escape his eye.
*
Susa, Persia
Mordecai rubbed the back of his head. The pain had gone when the burden to pray eased, but the memory . . . . For a long moment he stared at the earthen ceiling. Did Kasia
live, or were the injuries too extensive, even without the pain?
He closed his eyes and whispered his wonder to the Almighty. Peace washed over him, though that did little to answer his question. It could mean she was out of danger—or
resting in the bosom of Abraham.
Either way, he had seen the power of the Lord yesterday. Glory be to God. “What should I pray for today, Jehovah?”
An answer formed in his mind, but before he could put words to it, a knock sounded. Esther stepped in, relief sweeping over her face. “Good morning, cousin. You look
better.”
“I am.” He sat and dredged up a smile. “I am sorry I frightened you yesterday, little one.”
She smiled, but it shook around the edges. “I am only glad to see you improved. The one you prayed for—she is . . . ?”
He sighed. “I know not. Either at peace or healed. Esther—I cannot thank you enough for tending me yesterday. I realize how strange it must have seemed to you, but it was
necessary.”
Her smile steadied. “Of that I have no doubt. Are you hungry?”
“In a moment. First, would you pray with me that Jehovah goes with the army? I have the feeling he is angry with them.”
“Of course.” She came in and sat on the floor beside him.
They joined hands, bowed heads. And prayed that the Lord would go before their friends and neighbors who marched with the king.
Twenty-One
Troy, Anatolia
Kasia bounced Lalasa’s younger daughter upon her knee. The other two concubines sat on opposite sides of their shared tent, glaring at one another.
“You look like a sheep with you hair like that, Lalasa,” Diona said.