“Let me introduce you.” She turned to one of the maids and took a sleeping baby from her arms. “Your niece, Zillah.”
Zechariah smoothed a hand over her downy head. “Are you going to let me hold her, or is there some law forbidding commoners to touch the children of a king?”
Kasia laughed and eased the girl into his arms. “There may be, but I pay little attention to such things.”
His smile strained. “You still have no fear, I see.”
What was that that flickered across her face? She shrugged. “One of the benefits of being the king’s favorite.”
“I cannot believe my sister holds that title.”
Her breath of a laugh did not sound amused. “Sometimes I cannot either.” Not-amused hardened into sober. “I also could not believe that Esther accepted a marriage contract. Mordecai said the two of you were nearly betrothed.”
Cradling his niece close, Zechariah drew in a long breath. “I fell in love with her. Is that so hard to believe?”
“That part? No. So what happened?”
Not a conversation for a reunion. “Have you seen her yet? Is she well?”
“She is fine, I will speak with her in private soon—and in the meantime, I am speaking to you. What happened?”
He sighed. “I wooed her as I built our house. It was finished, I declared myself, was going to speak to Mordecai the next day . . . and then Esther overheard something.”
Her eyes narrowed. “What kind of something?”
“I . . . that . . .” No matter how he phrased it, it would sound terrible. Was terrible. “That I had been involved with Bijan’s sister.”
Far too quickly, her eyes widened. “Zechariah son of Kish! Bijan said his sister is married.”
She was not the only one who could narrow her eyes in that look stolen from Ima. “When were you chatting with Bijan?”
“On the way to Sardis from Thermopylae, which is irrelevant. Define ‘involved.’”
He pitched his voice to a bare murmur. “She carries my child.”
Her fist connected with his arm hard enough to make him wince. She never had pulled her punches, and her eyes spat genuine fury at him. “Idiot! How could you do that? To Esther, first of all, but—Zech. Adultery?”
As if he did not know how sinful he was? “Must you say it like that? Like I am the worst kind of man?”
“Not so far off.”
“Oh, look in your own house, Kasia. From what I hear, your husband is no paragon of virtue, stealing his own son’s wife.”
“Thank you for that reminder.” Her face a stone mask, she took the baby back. “Tell Ima I miss her.”
“Kas, wait.” Gusting out a breath, he caught her as she spun away. “I am sorry. He . . . I have never even seen this man, yet first he stole my sister, then the woman I would have married.”
“For which you ought to praise God.” She jerked her arm free but did not try to run away again. “There are those who are not pleased with how much power I have over him, Zech. And unfortunately, one of them is now at his right hand. When she is queen—”
“You mean if.”
“I mean when. When she is queen, she will be able to do much for the Jews without earning the obvious contempt of Haman and his like.”
Zech shoved frustrated fingers through his hair. “I have lost her to
politics
?”
“You have lost her to your own stupidity, and do not forget it.” She jerked her chin up. Her nostrils flared. “Three years apart, and still we squabble like—”
“Siblings.” He forced a grin and tugged on a lock of her hair. “I have missed your squabbling. The others do not squabble like you do.”
She laughed, then sighed. “I have missed you, Zech. I am sorry things did not work out as you wished, but this is all in Jehovah’s plan. I know it, here.” She splayed a hand over her heart.
“You sound like Mordecai.”
Her lips quirked up. “We have apparently shared many prayers over these past three years.”
For a moment, he could only stare. Kasia had always struck him as an average Jew—she knew the Law, certainly she believed in Jehovah. Like him. But now . . . she did not just sound like Mordecai, now that he thought on it. She . . .
seemed
like him, too. “You were never one for much prayer at home.”
Her eyes went soft, yet intense. “It became far more necessary here. I would be dead several times over had Jehovah not protected me.”
Like that day Mordecai had writhed in pain for her. He nodded.
“Mistress.” The eunuch at the door sent her a warning glance. “The king comes.”
Zechariah bit back a curse. “I should go.”
“No. He will want to meet you, or he would not come.”
And what of what Zechariah wanted? Because it was certainly not to face Esther’s husband. The very words made everything within him clench up. But there was no other exit to the room, and he would probably run directly into him if he tried to leave the way he had come.
A swarm of men entered, but there was no mistaking the king. He was taller than Zechariah had expected, every bit as tall as Mordecai, and broad. Well-muscled, especially for a man who did nothing but sit on a throne all day—and seduce other men’s women.
He wanted to dislike him on sight, and on principle. But then Xerxes looked at Kasia with the same expression Abba always had when he glanced Ima’s way. How was Zechariah supposed to hate a man who loved—genuinely
loved
—his sister?
“I hope I am not interrupting, but I wanted to meet some of your family, my love.”
Kasia repositioned the babe and shot her husband a glance half amused and half frustrated. “Allow me to make introductions, then. Zech, this is Xerxes, the king of kings and self-proclaimed master of creation, who thinks he can bend all of nature to his whim. Xerxes, my stubborn, idiotic brother Zechariah who understands consequences about as well as you do. You two have much in common. Enjoy each other’s company.”
With that, she left. Actually left him there, standing in the room with no one but the king and his servants.
Xerxes stepped to his side, his gaze on Kasia’s retreating back. “She is the only person in the world who would dare speak to me like that.”
A laugh surprised its way out of his mouth. “She has always been outspoken.”
“I learned that within moments of meeting her—and fell for her that quickly.” He flashed his smile Zechariah’s way and extended a hand. “It is good to meet you, Zechariah. Kasia has told me much about you, though she never mentioned we share vices.”
Zechariah clasped the king’s wrist, and marveled. He may resent the man, but still. He was king. “I suppose some things are common to men no matter their station.”
“And those things will never fail to anger their women.” His gaze swung to the door again. “I do not suppose you know any secrets to earning their forgiveness. I have tried all I can think of.”
Zechariah breathed a laugh. “Had I such divine wisdom, I would have used it on a young lady a few weeks ago. Perhaps then she would not be married to another instead of me.”
The king winced and clapped a hand to his shoulder. “My sympathies. It is bad enough fearing I have lost Kasia’s heart—I still have the knowledge that she is my wife, which guarantees time to work through things.”
Zechariah deflated, like a wineskin emptied of its last drop. He could not hate the king. Could not even dislike him. He may be able to maintain some resentment, but mostly he ached—and not only for himself.
The king loved Zechariah’s sister with all his heart. What would be left for Esther?
Xerxes sighed. “I could order this husband killed for you, but the women would probably hate us more.”
He could not help but grin. “I suspect so. I appreciate the thought, though.”
“Well if there is anything else I can do, please ask. You are family now.”
A strange and terrible thought.
~*~
Kasia kept her smile casually welcoming until the door closed. Then she flew through the room to fold Esther into a hug. “Finally! Had I not feared giving you away, I would have demanded Hegai bring you in far sooner. This week has been torture.”
Esther laughed—that same sweet, beautiful sound Kasia remembered—and gave her a mighty squeeze. “You cannot know how I felt to see you! I had thought . . .”
“Abba.”
“I know. But to see you, not only well but wed to your Persian . . .”
Kasia pulled back enough to smile. “I begged them to tell you.”
Esther grinned. “It does not matter now. You are alive, and you are here.”
“And
you
are here.” She still had to shake her head at that. “I cannot believe it. Which is to say, I can, when I see you. You are stunning, little Esther.”
“Not so much as you.” Her smile was still innocence and freshness—sorrow still lurked in her eyes. “Oh, I must hug you again.”
Kasia obliged with a laugh. Then she steered her friend over to a couch and pulled her down alongside her. “Mordecai told me the plan. And I spoke to Zechariah last week.”
Pain coated with anger washed over her face. “Did he tell you?”
“I hit him for it.” She gripped Esther’s hands and smiled. “It hurts. Trust me, I know—you have no doubt heard the rumors about Xerxes and Artaynte. But this is the will of Jehovah. I am sorry you had to go through what you did, but I cannot regret your presence.”
Esther studied her for a long moment, contemplation in her eyes. “You have changed . . . deepened. The same Kasia, but more.”
“I have been through much in these three years.” She returned the even regard, noted the flawless face, perfect figure. The spirit within that had emerged from the coals of sorrow stronger than it had been before. “So have you. We were girls together, Esther, and now we get to be women together. I prayed for you every day.”
Tears filled Esther’s eyes. “I missed you every day, but I did not know to pray. I am sorry for that.”
“It is all right. My parents and Zech knew to, and Jehovah apparently whispered it in Mordecai’s ear in my darkest moments.”
Realization streaked across her countenance. “That was you! He would instruct me to pray without giving me names.”
Kasia grinned. “See there, you
did
pray for me. Jehovah knew.”
“And Zech did too?” Her expression hardened again.
“He would not have gone against Abba, Esther, though I know he wanted to.” Though why he would obey Abba in
that
and not the Lord in instructions on purity . . .
Esther shook it off and forced a smile. “Enough of him.”
“Indeed. You are a married woman now.”
She had said it in a tease, but Esther’s face fell. “I did not mean to marry your husband, Kasia. Had I known—”
She laughed. She could not help it. “Sweet one, countless women are married to my husband.”
“But you love him.” Esther gripped her fingers and looked into one eye, then the other. “He is your Persian, and you are his favorite wife. How can you abide the thought of others?”
“It is not always easy. To share him, or to love him.” She cast her gaze toward the window, needing the view of a world larger than the harem. Open skies, endless desert. The sun slanted in, on its way to its nightly rest. Zillah had been fussy today, and she had not been able to get away earlier.
Esther sighed. “I do not know what I imagined when I agreed to this—other than it would get me away from Zech—but now that I am here . . . the other women are awful.”
“I know. It is no better in the house of wives. Amestris tried to kill me when I first arrived.” She smiled into Esther’s horrified gasp. “Things have changed for me since I returned from the war, though. Shocking as it is, the others seem to look up to me now. Only because they know I have the king’s ear, but . . .”
“And his heart, if Hegai is right.” Esther moistened her lips. “But then—the stories. They make him sound . . .”
“Awful.” Her own reaction to Atossa’s description of him shifted into her recollection. “The deaths he has caused, the marriages he has destroyed.”
Esther shuddered. “How can you love him?”
It felt as though her whole being thudded, and shadows blurred her vision. All she could see was the horror on Pythius’ face, the shattered soul within Artaynte’s eyes. The thousands upon thousands dead in the war while he sat on his throne and watched them die. How had she loved him through all that?
Is that your husband?
The words whispered through her, cool and sweet as the Choaspes.
More images, blinding in their beauty. The tear on Xerxes’ cheek that gleamed with all the brilliance of a diamond. The haunting fear in his eyes when he considered losing her. Those precious creases that fanned his mouth when he smiled at his children’s antics. The laughter so quick to replace anger in his eyes when she jested him out of a temper.
Yes, sometimes greater concerns made him hard, even cruel. Yes, sometimes his temper got the best of him, and the world shook in consequence. But he who raged like no other loved like no other.