What to do with her? Fire consumed her, burning her eyes and her soul behind them.
“And Kasia—you will not pray to Jehovah for me or my army. I do not need anything from the God of slaves.”
He did not want blessing, did not want God to go before him? “As you will, master.” She pulled the torc from her arm and dropped it to the dirt as she left.
Twenty-Seven
Haman staggered through the retreating night, rubbing a hand over his eyes. An hour or two remained before dawn, but when the king called . . .
He blinked against the lamplight when one of Xerxes’ eunuchs ushered him in. “My lord, you called for me?”
The king did not look up. He sat on his throne and toyed with a broken circle of silver. “Have you heard I ordered Kasia back to Sardis?”
His heart danced at the reminder. “Everyone has heard, my lord.” Most assumed it was out of concern for the babe she obviously carried, but the coin he had pressed into a
certain palm revealed they fought. Finally the witch went too far and got the punishment she deserved.
“I want you to accompany her.”
“I—what?”
Xerxes looked up. Shadows circled eyes dark with exhaustion . . . and something more Haman did not care to name. “I need someone I trust to go with her, to keep his eyes
and ears open until I can make it back.”
Ah. A spy against her then. “I would be honored to watch her for you.”
“She is not the one I would have you watch.” The king’s eyes slid shut. “I trust her. But I do not trust others with her—I have seen the way the men look at her.”
Haman swallowed his distaste. “Certainly, my king, but how much a danger could this be now, when . . . her figure has changed so much?”
One corner of Xerxes’ mouth pulled up. “The danger is still there. You are the one man I trust not to fall in love with her.”
“There is certainly no fear of that.”
Xerxes chuckled. “Exactly. But she is more than another Jew to me, Haman.”
Perhaps it was too much to hope that love would turn to hate through one argument. But distance would help. The chains of influence she had over the king would loosen—and
Haman suspected he could further that in Sardis. “Of course, my lord. I accept this task gladly.”
The king nodded, but his eyes had narrowed. “If anything happens to her, you will be held responsible.”
So then, no second attempt at the wall. Haman smiled. “Obviously, my lord.”
“Very good. Go ready yourself. I have ordered a hundred Immortals to accompany her to Sardis and then catch back up with us. They will see you safely there.”
Haman bowed and took his leave. This twist of fate was unexpected, but he would harness it. What favor the king still held her in would not last long now.
*
Mist from the sea blurred the world, rendering it unreal and cool. Kasia moved woodenly to the wagon. Her belongings were inside, except for the jewels she deliberately left
behind.
The pearls he had said were like her skin.
The diamonds that dimmed in comparison to the gleam of her eye.
The jet that put him in mind of her hair.
The jasper, no redder than her lips.
They were worth no more than his empty promises. If he was going to take back what mattered, he could keep what did not.
She jerked to a halt when the mist shifted enough for her to make out the clothing of the guard that would escort her to Sardis. “Immortals?” Spinning to Theron, she
frowned. “Why would he send Immortals with us? Surely he does not think me so big a threat.”
Zethar emerged from the cloud to stand beside Theron. “The opposite, mistress. He wants to be sure you arrive safe and well.” He leaned closer and whispered, “You surely
realize he already regrets his command.”
She snorted and pulled her cloak tighter to ward off the mist. “He always regrets what he does in anger. That never keeps him from doing it, nor does it ever change his
mind.”
Zethar stepped nearer and held out his hand.
She looked at the torc he offered, at the plea in his eyes. No sympathy stirred within the cavity of her chest. Did Xerxes think he could undo it all so easily? “Tell the
king that since I cannot have both, I would rather have my God than my husband.”
“Mistress.” Zethar’s voice strained, begged.
She lifted her chin. “According to your master, I am no mistress. Only a slave.”
“He did not mean it.”
“It does not matter. He is the king—his word is law.” Perhaps if the man had come to her . . . but instead he sent his servant to bear the burden of humility. Until he
shouldered it himself, she wanted nothing to do with him.
Zethar’s face crumpled. “You will break his heart.”
“He is an expert at ignoring his heart. He will hardly notice.” She spun away just in time to see three soldiers approach.