“Excuse me.”
It was the man, she knew it even before she turned around. Yes, the stranger. He looked at her intently, with eyes narrowed in contemplation. His clothing . . . the clothing of the palace officials.
He gave her a small bow—why would he bow to her?—and smiled. “Forgive me for staring. You are very beautiful.”
She straightened her shoulders. Somehow, he made it sound more like fact than compliment, as if he were only commenting on the weather. Did such an observation warrant a thanks?
He did not wait for her to respond before inclining his head. “I am a scout for the king, in search of the most beautiful virgins in Persia. He will choose a queen from among them. Are you married?”
She could only stare. Would the king’s men really scour the markets for the next queen? It must be some joke.
But those garments. The sobriety of his gaze. Esther gathered her shawl about her shoulders. “No, I am not married.”
Satisfaction, not pleasure, lit his eyes. “Who is your father?”
“I am afraid my father has been dead these eight years, and my mother with him. My guardian—”
“An orphan.” The man’s face fell. “Then you likely have no dowry. To be a full wife and have a chance for the crown, you must have a dowry.”
He assumed too much, assumed she
wanted
a chance at the crown . . . yet pride forced her chin up. “I have a dowry. My father was not poor, and my guardian has preserved what he left for me.”
“Ah.” Face bright again, the man reached into a bag slung around him and pulled out a tablet. “These are the terms of the marriage. If you and your guardian agree to the contract, you may present yourself and this tablet at the palace in a week. At that point, final candidates will be selected and taken into the house of women for purification and treatments.”
She took the tablet—it was easier than arguing. Could even provide an amusing story, proof that the king’s officials thought her worthy to be queen, though a certain foolish Jewish man did not value her enough to remain faithful.
Quickly, she purchased the rest of the things Martha needed and hurried home. When she entered and saw Mordecai sitting down to his first meal of the day, she even managed a smile. “You will never guess who I came across in the markets.”
Her cousin arched his brows. “Who?”
“A scout for the king.” She slid the tablet onto the table. “They have apparently begun the search for a new queen.”
“High time.” Mordecai picked up the tablet. His face shifted as he read, though she had no name for the emotions she saw. He looked up at her again. “Esther. This is a marriage contract.”
“The man gave it to me to consider—quite a compliment, is it not? I needed that this morning.”
“Esther,” he said again, placing the tablet carefully on the table. “It is more than a compliment. These scouts are discerning men. They will send no more than twenty to the palace from all of Susa and the surrounding areas. They will select no more than a dozen to go into preparation for the king. Esther, you could be the next queen.”
A tickle danced up her spine. “Nonsense, cousin. I am a Jewess.”
“Do they know that?”
She frowned. “I suppose not. I did not mention it, nor your name.”
He closed his eyes and drew in a long breath. She knew he was praying. What she did not know was why her pulse kicked up, why her palms went damp. “Cousin?”
“When I prayed last night, I felt clearly what I have suspected for years—trials lie ahead for the Jews in Persia. Too many of the powerful voices in the court are against us. But if the new queen could offer moderate and well-informed opinions to the king on the subjects that concern us . . .”
Her stomach quivered. “Let us be reasonable. Even if I took this contract to the palace, even if they added me to the harem, that would not guarantee I be queen. It would not even guarantee the king
like
me, much less listen to my opinions.”
“No, there are never guarantees. But there are promises.” His eyes shone bright, but not with excitement. With . . . knowledge. Faith. “You are destined for great things, my daughter. This is the path for you.”
Gooseflesh prickled her arms. But what greatness could she have inside? It felt like the only thing hiding within her was fear. Fear and sorrow. “Would it not mean lying about my heritage, about my connection to you?”
“It would mean not mentioning it. And yes, that would be difficult. But we would find a way to stay in touch.” He stood and rested his hands on her arms. “I will not decide this for you, but this is the marriage to which I give my blessing today. Not to Zechariah, but to Xerxes.”
The door banged open, and Zechariah stepped into the room with horror in his eyes. “You will
what
?”
~*~
For a moment they only looked at him, as if he were some stranger barging in uninvited. Zechariah fisted his hands and tried to slow his breathing back to normal. He must have misheard. Must have caught only the tail end of the conversation, out of context.
Because there was no way on Jehovah’s bronze earth that he would lose Esther to Xerxes as he had lost his sister. His God would not be so cruel. And Mordecai—his friend, his neighbor—would surely never give his ward to the gentile king instead of the Jewish man who loved her.
Esther blinked, raised her chin, and glared at him. “Why did you come?”
He must still be dreaming, caught in the nightmares that had plagued him all night. “I wanted to talk to you. To both of you.”
“I have nothing left to say to you.”
“Esther—”
“Zech.” Mordecai turned to him, his countenance determined yet gentle. “It is good you have come. I know you intended to ask for Esther’s hand.”
“I still do.” He cast a pleading glance her way. “I know she is hurt and angry, and I imagine she has told you why. I deserve her disregard. But I love her. I will be a good husband.”
Mordecai shook his head. “No, my son. I have felt for a while that there was something holding you back from giving your whole heart to her. I suspect it is this other woman.”
“There is nothing holding me back, she
has
my whole heart.” Every crevice. The part of him that Ruana appealed to . . . that was not his heart, not love.
Esther folded her arms over her chest. Gold winked at her neck, her finest dress draped her frame so perfectly that a lump formed in his throat. One long day ago, this vision of perfection had been his, in his arms. How could she now stand there as if the whole world were between them?
“You may have a better chance convincing me of that,” she said, “had I not seen you with her last night. Had I not heard in your voice that you would do whatever you must to protect her.”
“Never at cost to you.”
She snorted and averted her face. “It does not matter anyway. My cousin told me before I saw you with her that he would not approve. Which is just as well. I am going to marry the king, perhaps be the next queen.”
For a moment he could only stare as those incredible words sank in. Countless thoughts boiled. He knew not which would find the way to his tongue until he heard himself say, “You are angry with me for involvement with another woman so will marry a king and join his
harem
? That makes sense to you?”
Mordecai put a steadying hand on her shoulder. “He does not claim to be a faithful Jew. He does not lie to her heart of hearts.”
“But what
does
he do? Have you considered that? He takes whomever he pleases.” Like his sister, with no warning and no choice. “This morning I heard he even took his son’s wife. Is that better than me?”
Esther spun on him, looking angry enough to spit. “Yes! It is better to marry an adulterous king who has no power over my heart than to have it broken by you!”
Mordecai pulled her back, stepped in front of her. Sighed. “She has a good chance of becoming queen, Zech. Can you not see what that would mean for all our people? Can you not wish such honor for her?”
Queen? Honor? He cared nothing about such things when it meant losing her. Losing yet another of his favorite people to the palace . . .
He sucked in a breath and straightened his spine. Kasia was there. Kasia would find her, they would be able to embrace again, to whisper and laugh and finish each other’s sentences.
Looking from Mordecai to Esther, he was not sure he was strong enough, selfless enough to let her go for the sake of giving her back another she had lost. But really, what choice did he have? He could yell, he could beg, he could toss himself into the river—nothing would change her mind. That was clear.
He could be furious and hurt—and he was both—but when those cooled, he could find some comfort in the knowledge that a reunion would await her.
At the moment, that promise was meager indeed.
~*~
Darius paused to take a breath that did nothing to fortify him. His limbs still felt like lead, his soul like an empty vessel. But his hands were steady, at least. His steps were sure.
They took him through the house of wives, into his mother’s chambers. His brother was there, quietly at his schoolwork, only darting a glance at him when he entered. A glance that said more than he cared to interpret.
His sisters were there too. Amytis, nearest him in age, her eyes on the ground even as her fingers flew over the loom. Perhaps she had heard their father offered her to Masistes last night to try to lessen the blow of Parsisa’s death. Rhodogune sat beside her.
They had obviously heard enough to know that nothing was the same this morning.
His mother exited her bedchamber and smiled. Oblivious, even victorious. He felt heavier than ever. “My son,” she said in greeting. “I was wondering when you would come by to thank me.”
What world did she live in, that she could think her actions so simple, so . . . acceptable? “I cannot thank you. You mutilated my wife’s mother.”
Amestris waved that off. “You know as well as I that you did not want her ruling you through Artaynte. Now that she is gone, and now that your harlot of a wife’s true nature is known, you can put her aside.”
“I will not.” Even after swallowing, his throat felt dry. “Artaynte and I have decided to forgive past wrongs and try to build a true marriage.”
She stared, then her lips curled back. “Fool! Why would you forgive her? She made a laughingstock of you.”
“And of you?”
“Yes, and of me. She and your father both—he cannot treat us this way, then shove the blame onto another. To kill his own brother when he dared stand against him, to—”
“He can, Mother. He is king. He is never to blame when someone rebels against him.” She would never accept that, he knew. Odd, since she thought that very rule applied to her. He sighed. “Moreover, he apologized. He came as a father, not as a king, and begged me to forgive him.”
She spat out a few curses and spun to the window, to the table, back to him. “He betrayed you!”
“Yes. But I would have betrayed him first, had his wife not been of stronger morals than mine.”
“The Jewess?” Her voice ran as cold as the snow-fed Choaspes. “I ought to have known. With your father, everything goes back to the Jewess.”
“At the moment, it all goes back to you, and what you did.” He had asked Father to let him do this. To let him draw the line. “You will be sent away, Mother. You may go to whichever capital you please, but never again will you be near us.”
Her eyes narrowed on his face. “‘We’? You align yourself with your father? Even after he stole your wife?”
“He is capable of atrocities. You both are. The difference is that he always regrets them and does not make the same mistake again. You revel in them and find new, bigger ways to horrify the world.”
“No, the difference is that he acts only for himself and his Jewish witch. All I do, all I am is for my children.”
“I could do without your actions.” He took a step back. Not in retreat, but in symbolism. “When I am king, I will echo my father’s edict and keep you apart. You are a threat to your family and the empire. If not for the swift action of my father’s men, the kingdom would be falling into war even now.”
“It would have served him right.”
“And it would have served me right to have to deal with a fractured empire. Yet I daresay you did not think of that.” He drew in a breath. “You will leave tomorrow.”
She stood still as a statue, but for the sparks flying from her eyes. “Do not align yourself against me, Darius. I have more power than you can know, more even than your father in the ways that matter.”
“You will be stripped of it. Even now the scouts are out in search of young women, one of which will be the next queen.”
She sneered. “You think it will be so easy? As long as I have breath, I will have might. I warn you now—stand with him instead of me, and you will fall with him. I have other sons. I will raise one of them up instead of you, one that will give me the honor I am due.”