Odd . . . had her father not feared the opposite? She could still hear his low plea. They will make you Persian. Strip you of your heritage. “Because I am a Jewess,
which you knew after our first conversation. You told me never to change.”
He tossed the wine down his throat and slammed the cup onto the table. “And yet you have. If anything, you have become more Jewish since coming to me. You spend hours—
hours—in prayer each day. I cannot have a conversation with you without your blasted Jehovah coming up.”
She gripped her arm to keep her hand from shaking. “I have not so much as mentioned him in months. I have held my tongue about my God, I have held my tongue about my babe.
What else do you want me to do, Xerxes?”
“I want you to trust my wisdom for once.”
No, he wanted her to give up Jehovah. The races he ruled may be granted the right to worship as they willed, but not her. Not his wife.
She shook her head. “If I did what you asked, I would become like every other woman in your harem. Is that what you want? You want me to lose the very things that make me
who I am, who you love?”
His oath stained the air. “You would not lose yourself if—”
“I would. I know I would. It is only through prayer that I keep myself from jealousy and conflict.”
“You do not have to give up prayer, just give up praying to the wrong deity.”
She stared at him, knowing her incredulity was on her face. “Why would I switch my allegiance? Yours is not a god who advocates humility, which is where I find my peace.
Yours is not a god who sheds light on my soul with wisdom and law, but one who sends darkness. Yours, by your own admission, tried to kill me.”
Xerxes growled and stomped a few paces away. “Because you opposed him.”
She was there again, fingers gripping the waist-high stone. The valley tumbled before her, the spur of the mountain loomed nearby. Fingers of darkness crept over it, and in
it she saw life. Evil, destructive life. A roar of fury, force from behind.
Kasia gasped and clutched at her throat, blinking to rid her eyes of the images before the hillside could attack her again. “Someone pushed me.”
“You fell.” His voice was flat, empty. “It was a tragedy, but you will not blame it on another.”
But she could feel hands, large and powerful, against her back. She could smell spice and man. She could hear the thud of footsteps. But all she could see was the glow of
inhuman eyes in the surging darkness, so terrifying she had forgotten to pray for protection. “No. I was gripping the wall already, I could not have run into it. Someone
pushed me.”
“And you bring this up now?”
“I just remembered.”
“Convenient.” His doubt sliced through her, much as his hand slashed the air. “I will hear no more of this.”
Shadows seemed to slink in again now, always in her periphery. “You think I lie?”
He folded his arms over his chest. “Why not? You lied when you promised you would not bow your knee to Jehovah. You lied when you said you would not speak of certain
things. You lied, for that matter, when you said at Abydus it was only I you wanted, that you cared not about getting with child again.”
She staggered back a step, not sure what was shadow and what was tears. “That was not a lie. Yes, I want a child. But it was not only the loss of our son that consumed me
those months, Xerxes, it was the loss of you. I would have been content to get you back, even if I had never conceived again.”
“Yet you disobey me at every turn, insisting you know better than the wisest men in my empire. Do you know what your problem is, Kasia?” He jabbed a finger at her, and
though he still stood several feet away, she felt the poke in her soul. “You trust your illogical, blind faith above evidence and reason.”
Her tears dried up, her hands fisted. “And your problem is that you cannot abide anyone or anything not bending to your will.”
His nostrils flared. “You are nothing but a Jew.”
“And you are nothing but a king.” She spun for the exit, not sure her arrow had hit its mark until she heard the crash of metal striking wood.
He cursed and threw something else. “Do not walk away from me, Kasia. If you leave this tent, you will never step foot in it again.”
She pivoted back around, tired of relenting every time he made a demand that threatened her soul. “Will you banish me again? Go ahead. This time I will not waste any
suffering on it, I will not fade away for needing you.”
“You want banished?” He released a breath of dry laughter. “Have it your way. Zethar! See that Kasia’s things are packed and loaded. At first light, she will return to
Sardis.”
The ground rocked and sank in on itself. She was uncertain how she remained upright with nothing solid beneath her. “Sardis? Why not send me all the way back to Susa, like
you did your uncle when he dared to speak against you?”
He lifted a condescending brow. “So you can run away and be hidden by the other Jews? I think not. Sardis, where you will wait until I have finished my campaign. I will
decide then what to do with you.”