She turned onto her side and draped an arm around him. “Will you try to banish me again?”
“I never banished you.” He smiled at the arch of her brows. “Fine, call it what you like. And no. I cannot. Not anymore.”
“Good. Because if you tried it, I would sneak in and kiss any objections away.”
“I am surprised you did not try it before.”
The shadows flickered through her eyes again, and he silently cursed himself. She rested her head against his arm and pulled in a long breath. “What of your fears?”
“They are still valid.” He sighed and traced his fingers over her back. “I sent my uncle home for letting fears rule him. I may be a hot-headed fool, but I try not to be
a hypocrite.”
“Good.” She moistened her lips and met his gaze again. “I dreamt of a child last night. A little girl, born when we get back to Susa.”
He may turn into Artabanas yet—fear iced through him, threatening to paralyze. He swallowed it down. “Such dreams are expected, my love. The wishes of your heart, combined
with the day’s events. Nothing more.”
Her eyes shuttered and her muscles tensed. “My dreams are not allowed to mean anything, though you have mustered millions based on yours?”
He sighed. “I have never heard of a dream prophesying a girl-child.”
“Of course not.” She pulled away and sat up, each movement an angry jerk. “History only records such things if the child goes on to greatness, and women matter little.”
“Kasia—”
“You read the history of men. Women hear different tales, ones passed down from mother to daughter. I would not be the first to dream of a female child that is new in the
womb.” She looked around and grabbed her chiton. “Perhaps Jehovah sends the dreams when he knows his daughters need encouragement.”
His jaw tightened, but he forced it open. “Look at me.”
It took her several moments to obey.
Xerxes drew in a long breath. “You find comfort in your Jehovah, and in spite of your claims last night, you obviously desire a baby. I can stop neither, though both could
anger my god.”
“I am not afraid of—”
He held up a hand. “If you want to take your place beside me again, you will obey me in this. I cannot keep you from praying. I cannot stop a child from growing inside you,
not as long as I keep you in my bed. But you will speak of neither. I will not tempt the god.”
She pulled the garment over her head. “Why do you cling to faith in a god you think you can fool with silence?”
He stood too. “I will have your word on this, Kasia.”
Her gaze focused on nothing, her chest heaved. Would she refuse? Had those claims of needing only him last night been a ploy to get back into his bed for the sake of a
child?
Her shoulders sagged, and she turned into his chest. “You will have my silence. But both Jehovah and a growing child speak for themselves.”
“I will deal with that if it arises.”
She tilted up a face filled with challenge. “When.”
Infuriating woman. How had he ever mistaken her for compliant?
And why did he love her more today than ever before?
*
Doriscus Fortress, Thrace
Kasia rolled over but could not find the heat she sought. Refusing to open her eyes just yet, she reached out . . . and found nothing but pillows. With a sigh, she gave in
and looked for her husband. “Xerxes, what in the world are you doing?”
He was already dressed and stood in the middle of the chamber, an assortment of tablets on the table before him. He smiled at her over his shoulder. “Just reviewing the
numbers.”
A chuckle tickled her throat. “I doubt they have changed since yesterday. Come back to bed.”
“I cannot rest, I am too eager to be on our way.” He turned back to the table, mumbling, “One million, seven hundred thousand men. Amazing.”
She rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her mouth. “Do not forget the twelve hundred seven triremes.” She sat up and stretched, knowing she could not sleep with him
counting in the lamplight. A shame—it was their last night in the bed she had enjoyed this week.
“Oh, I have not forgotten. You know, adding together the men in the fleet and those on land, it is well over two million. If we were to count all the servants and support
peoples as well . . . surely it would be more than five.”
She suspected some of the numbers had been inflated, but she would not be the one to tell him so. Slipping her garment on, she stood—and immediately regretted it. The flip
of her stomach rivaled the acrobats that had performed for them last night. “Oh.”
Xerxes spun to face her, frowning. “Are you ill?”
Frustration churned along with the nausea. “It is nothing.” Nothing he would let her speak of. He would storm out if she dared mention that sickness generally started at
this point in a pregnancy.
“You barely touched your food last night, so perhaps you are only hungry. Zethar brought in fruit and bread if you would like some.”