Jewel of Persia

He pushed off the post and stepped into the street. His stance carried no overt threat, but his eyes made her want to run the other direction.

He quirked a brow. “I am heading that way myself. I would be honored to deliver such a beautiful young woman safely to her destination. You are going to see . . . your

husband, who serves at the palace? Perhaps I would know him—I serve there as well.”

“I . . .” What could she say? To admit she had no husband would not help her. But he would catch her in a lie. She pasted on another smile. “Thank you, but I must run

home to fetch something I forgot.”

“It is a fine morning for a stroll about the city.” He stepped to her side and had the audacity to grip her elbow. “Allow me to escort you. I would meet your father,

since your eyes say you have no husband.”

Why would the man not leave her alone? She tried to tug her elbow free. “That is not necessary.”

He would not release her. “Your father is at war, perhaps, and you cannot invite me home? Your mother then.”

“You presume too much. Now unhand me.”

He laughed, as if honestly thinking she jested. “And give up all chances of learning more about you? I would never forgive myself. I intend no harm, lovely one, only a few

more moments to bask in your beauty.”

A tingle brushed her neck a second before a shadow fell over her. “The young lady has made her wishes known.”

Zechariah. Relief washed through her even as she wondered what he was doing on this street, with no delivery cart and in finer clothes than usual.

The Persian tugged her a little closer. “I saw her first, friend.”

Zechariah’s lips turned up in a cold, hard smile. He reached out, palm up. “Shall I see you home, Esther?”

She put her fingers into his. “I would appreciate it.”

The other man relinquished her elbow with an exaggerated sigh—and a glint of resentment in his eye. “I see. Well, a man cannot be blamed for trying when he comes across

such astounding beauty.”

Zechariah made a noise that crossed doubt with threat and tucked her hand into his elbow. Hopefully he did not notice the way her fingers trembled. “Come, dear one,” he

said. “Let us go home.”

The Persian said nothing, but she did not miss the way he measured Zechariah’s height and form before spinning back into his house. Would he have challenged him had

Zechariah not looked so strong?

This was ridiculous. She had never so much as seen the man before—what made him think he had any claim to her, any right to stake one?

Zechariah led her quickly around the corner. “What are you doing here without escort?”

And what made this man think he had a right to judge her, when he was the one who had told her to take her cousin a meal? She jerked her hand free and stormed ahead of him.

“It is a perfectly respectable area, and I can hardly expect Martha or Jonah to leave their tasks because of my whim.”

He caught up to her in a single stride. “You could have brought Eglah. She may be no bigger than you, but there is strength to be found in numbers.”

Esther halted and spun on him. “I should not need a companion to walk a reputable street in the light of day, especially in a year when so few men are in Susa. Tell me,

Zechariah, why do those who remain think they can have their way on everything?”

He looked at her as if she had sprouted a tree from her ears. “That is surely not aimed at me—all I did was rescue you. Which, I might add, you have not thanked me for.”

“I would not have been here to need rescuing had you not told me to get out of the house more.”

Now he looked amused, the infuriating man. “You say you are in my debt for my perfect timing? Nonsense. I am only glad I could help.”

“Why did I even listen to you? You are as much a fool as that Persian, thinking your will ought to make a thing so.” She marched toward home again.

Zechariah chuckled and kept pace. “I too am glad we could resolve it so easily, by my mere presence. Though I would not have minded smashing his face in, in defense of my—



“If you call me your sister again, I will smash your face in.”

He laughed and pulled her to a halt. “I was going to say ‘friend.’ Esther, this is unlike you.”

She focused her gaze on the house beyond his shoulder. “Nothing ever works as I think it should.”

“Such is life. Do you think mine is what I thought it should be?”

For a moment, she just stared at him. “Because you are not a soldier? Yes, Zechariah, you are so cursed. You have a successful business. Talent and skill with both wood and

weapons. A slew of friends who look up to you, female eyes on you everywhere you go. However can you get through the day?”

“Sarcasm.” He tilted his head and blinked at her. “Do I know you?”