He swallowed against the pain. Leah’s cries subsided for a moment, then her face screwed up once more. She needed her mother. They all needed her mother.
Desma took her back. “I will deliver her to the nurse to be fed. Come, children, give your father a moment with your ima.”
He took her hand again as the room emptied. “Kasia, you must not leave me. If you do not open your eyes and speak to me, there is no telling what I might do. You do not want to unleash me on the unsuspecting world, do you?”
He could hold the tears back no longer. He rested his head against her hand, clasped between his.
Her sleeve slid up her arm, revealing the heavy torc she still wore. Proof of her love. Their love. “Please, lovely Kasia. Do not give up.” If she did, he did not know how he would keep from doing the same.
Perhaps he would refuse to move until she did. It was only a matter of time before someone demanded something of him, but he had no idea what he could give. He felt suspended along with Kasia. Useless.
The world would just have to understand.
~*~
Haman stared at the servant. “What happened?”
“Apoplexy, as best as they can guess. She is unresponsive. Immobile.”
Unbelievable. He had not even had to raise a hand against her. Did he need any more proof that the god was for him? Ahura Mazda had struck down the witch himself, and the king was no doubt too grief-stricken to care for anything else.
Perfect. Utterly perfect. “Quickly, bring the Pur.”
His man dashed off, returned a minute later with the lots. As Haman watched, his servant let loose the two small discs. The first slid to a halt over the symbol for the twelfth month. The second over the marker for the thirteenth day.
Nearly a year away—he must need that much time to prepare. To rouse the anger of the world against the Jews.
So be it. He strode from his home, toward the palace, and deliberately chose the gate where the witch’s friend would be seated.
His servants went ahead of him, insisting all nearby bow in deference to the favored of the king. Satisfaction swelled in his chest. Until, of course, they reached the Jew.
“Why do you transgress the king’s demand?” his head eunuch demanded.
The swine looked past them, to Haman. Recognition of an enemy flickered in his eyes. “I will bow the knee to no man, especially a man such as him. I worship only the one God, Jehovah.”
Hatred boiled up as Haman strode past. Yes, he worshiped only Jehovah, just like the witch. Now he and all his people would die because of it.
He headed toward the quarters of the royal family and found the king in the Jewess’s chambers. Hunched beside the bed, looking as lifeless as the figure on it. “Master?”
Xerxes lifted his head. “Haman. I am glad you have come. She is . . .”
“I received the message. Master, you are over-wrought. Yet there is business to be done. Even now I have learned of a people dispersed throughout your kingdom that refuse to keep the king’s laws—and the last thing you need right now is an uprising. If it pleases you, let a decree be written to destroy them. I will pay ten thousand talents of silver into the hands of those who do the work, and have the plunder from their homes and businesses brought into your treasury.”
The king did not even look at him. “Do whatever you deem necessary, Haman. Here.” He covered one hand with the other, tugged.
Haman nearly shook when he saw the signet ring.
“Act in my stead, my brother. Do as I would do.”
Better, he would do as the king
should
. He took the ring, slid it onto his own finger. Was it his imagination, or did power pulse from his hand? “You will not want to be disturbed, master. Let us also make a decree that none are to enter your presence without being called, or they shall be put to death unless you hold your scepter out to them.”
“A wise thought.” The king rubbed his face. “I shall have to return to court for a few hours each day. To keep up appearances.”
“Of course. But I will take care of everything in your time of need, master.”
“Thank you.” His voice broke, and Xerxes rested his head on his hand. “I do not know what I would do without you.”
“You need never find out. I arranged for some wine for you, master—you must keep up your strength. Go, refresh yourself for a moment.”
Xerxes sighed, but he stood and shuffled from the room. The Jewess’s eunuch immediately entered, but Haman ignored him. He sat in the king’s seat and leaned close, so close his breath would have tickled her ear had she any ability to sense it. “You are lucky the god struck you before I could, witch—I would have cast the blame on your precious people. But it is no matter. No matter at all. Die now, as you should have done in Sardis, or die later. It makes no difference to me.”
Did her face pale? Was there a twitch in her cheek? He could not be sure, but it hardly mattered. Whether or not she knew who caused her undoing, the point remained she would be destroyed. Finally.
Chest full of satisfaction, he left the room with its glowering but oblivious eunuch and headed for the inner court. His place of honor. He summoned a scribe and smiled when the servant stood with tablets at the ready. “Take this down. ‘To every satrap, governor, and officials of all the people under Xerxes, the king of kings over all Persia and Media. That on the thirteenth day of the twelfth month, the month of Adar, every Jew shall be annihilated. Young and old, children and women, and their possessions shall be taken and added to the king’s treasury.’ Let the word go out to all the land and be read in every public place.”
Chuckling in delight, he took his seat beside the throne. His gaze fell on the signet circling his finger. With its seal, he created law. And no Persian law could ever be undone—even by the king himself.
Forty-Seven
When his parents fled, weeping, Zechariah took their spot beside his sister. Poor Kasia. To look at her, one would think she only slept. Her hair was neatly arranged around her, no pain on her face. But her cheeks were pale, and even at Ima’s urging, at Abba’s begging, Kasia made no response.
Zechariah took her hand and sighed over it. Closed his eyes. “Dear Jehovah, whatever your purpose here, I ask that you minister to us. Kasia needs your strength and, if she can still hear, will grow frustrated. Soothe her spirit as you heal her body. And the rest of us need you too. Need your support and peace.”
“Amen.” The sweet, soft voice flowed into the room like a brook.
He jerked up, spun around. His breath snagged. Esther. All these years, he had managed to avoid her whenever he visited his sister. He had never felt up to facing her, seeing her exactly as she was now—regally dressed, elegant and beautiful. He never could have given her the things that suited her so well.
He inclined his head. “My queen.”
Her lips twitched up. “No need to stand on formalities. You are my dearest friend’s brother, after all.” She stepped into the room, one hand behind her. Behind her skirts he spotted a little girl with an adorable mess of dark curls.
He smiled at the little one and crouched down. “You must be Amani. Kasia and Zillah have told me all about you.”
The girl buried her grin in her mother’s leg. Esther turned to her servants. “I would like a few moments to speak to Kasia’s family. Please take my daughter with you.”
One of the maidservants scooped up the girl with a tickle, then the mass of them bowed out and closed the door behind them. Esther released a pent-up breath. “How have you been, Zech?”
Throat suddenly too tight to answer, he could only stand up again and nod.
She moved to the bed. The resignation on her face confirmed that Kasia had looked exactly like this for the past two days. “I believe that was the first time I ever heard you pray.”
That observation earned a breath of a laugh. “Mordecai and I have spent much time together these past years. He has taught me how to pray from the heart, and how to listen.”
“Your sister has taught me the same. It is necessary, if one wants to remain faithful in this faithless place.” She blinked rapidly and wiped at her eyes. “The physicians can tell us nothing. But I have hope.” Yet her voice broke on the word.
“There is always hope. Jehovah has performed bigger miracles for her than this would require.” He took Esther’s hand, but only so that he could urge her into the chair. And perhaps to test himself.
Not so many tingles anymore. Not so much regret. It had been a long, busy five years since she took the crown.
“I know.” She settled into the seat and wrapped her arms around her middle. “I will make sure someone tells the king you and your parents came. He will let no one but their children stay while he is here. I tried to speak with him yesterday. That did not go over so well.” She nodded to a large pottery jug on the table, missing one of its handles.
He nodded, well able to imagine the king’s temper. But one thing he had not yet convinced his mind to picture was the king and queen together. Every time he had seen Xerxes over the years, it had been as Kasia’s husband. Not Esther’s.
She drew in a shaky breath. “I have met her, you know. Quite a number of times now.”
He blinked, then sighed. “Ruana?”
“Mmm hmm. The first time was at one of my banquets for the wives of the court. I let myself feel superior when I realized who she was, even toyed with the idea of snubbing her so that others would have to do the same.” Her lips turned up into a self-deprecating smile. “But then she sat down beside Kasia and began asking her questions about Judaism. I think, were it not for her husband, she would have converted by now.”
Bijan told the same tale. He never knew what to make of it. “Bijan has mentioned that the queen always has a smile for her.”
“And for her son.” Her gaze fell to her lap. “He is a beautiful boy. Looks much like his father.”
Navid. He prayed for the boy every morning, every night.
His fingers curled into his palm. So many times in the past five years he had started toward Asho’s house with his cart of carvings, fully intending to deliver them himself so that he might catch a glimpse of his child.
But then as he drew near, as the shame and guilt of memory crashed over him, he realized he would cause turmoil for the boy if he showed up. And he turned away.
Esther forced a smile. “I hear Joshua is to marry next month. Kasia tells me he has been busy building a home for his bride.”
“With a foolish grin upon his face every moment.” He had encouraged Joshua to use the addition already finished and furnished, but his brother had refused.
He probably feared it would curse his match.
“And what of you?” She met his gaze again, held it. “When will you marry, Zech? It has been six years.”
She had forgiven him. Kasia said so, and he could see it for himself now. But forgiving himself . . . he was not sure he could ever accomplish that. What he had done to Esther—the way he had treated Ruana. He shook his head. “I have nothing left to give a wife.”
“I cannot believe that. Please, Zech, try to be happy.”
“I am. Or content, anyway. I have my family, a passel of nieces and nephews to keep me entertained, with more sure to come after Joshua weds.”
“And your little Jewish army.” She grinned, eyes gleaming. “I sometimes rise with the sun so I might watch the lot of you practicing. Your numbers keep growing.”
She watched him, from her home in the palace? He shook that thought off. “We have broken into several groups, actually. And it is not only Jews. Bijan and many of his friends join us too, to keep their reflexes sharp.”
A knock sounded at the door, and Zethar poked his head in. “Excuse me, mistress. Zech. The king is coming, and he would like some time alone with her.”
“Of course.” Esther stood, moved to the door.
Zechariah fell in behind her. Out in the hall, they both paused. He hesitated, then figured he might as well ask. In an undertone, so no one else would hear. “Are you happy? I want to think you are, but I am never certain. Your husband is so in love with my sister . . .”
She gave him a smile he knew well. At peace with who she was, where she was, even if no one else understood that. Even if they thought she ought to reach for something more. “I am content.”
How odd, that only now did he fully understand that. He nodded and watched her walk away, then turned toward the exit.
He found Abba and Ima at the gate, which was curiously absent of Mordecai. They held each other, rocked to the rhythm of Ima’s keening. He gathered them up and urged them home.
~*~
Mordecai rent his garment and fell to the floor with a guttural cry. He had known Haman hated Kasia, hated him, hated all the Jews—but he had never thought it would come to this. Had never thought he would hear such a decree in the streets.
“Jehovah! He has set a day for destruction. A day to wipe your children from the face of the earth. First Kasia, but now
this
?”