style="font-size:15px;"> Xerxes’ eldest son stopped a step before the throne and grinned. “The same to you, uncle. Father, you look well this morning.”
“So I am told.” He drew in a deep breath and, as Artabanus said his farewells and disappeared into the crowd, measured his son. He did it often these days. The law said he must name his successor before he went on campaign, and though Darius was the logical choice, he needed to be sure.
At eighteen, he possessed a man’s height. But his shoulders were just beginning to broaden; his strength was stored in muscles slight and wiry. His face was fine-featured with the beauty his mother was famous for, though thankfully he had avoided Amestris’s temperament.
It felt like a mere week ago Darius had been nipping at his heels like a pup. Could he possibly be old enough to rule half the world, to be the king of kings? And yet when Xerxes was his age, he had married Amestris, just become a father, and was even then plotting how to convince his own father to name him king instead of his older brother.
Not to mention that though Darius was too young, his other sons were younger still. The only answer for it was to live a good while longer and give this man-child more time to mature.
A determination made doubly pleasurable given the company he would have waiting in his chamber whenever he willed it. Kasia could keep a man young while he waited for his sons to age.
Darius grinned anew. “Rumor says your excellent mood this morning is due to the latest addition to the harem. Is it true you rushed this girl through the preparations in only a week?”
Xerxes returned his grin. Perhaps his son was more man than he gave him credit for. “I hardly have time to waste, considering how soon I shall leave to inspect the gathering armies.”
“Mother is in a snit about it.” Darius chuckled. “Not that that is unusual.”
Xerxes thanked the god again that his son shared his good humor. “You have seen her this morning? How is she feeling?”
“When I asked her that, she said ‘large.’ Which undoubtedly contributes to her snit. She droned on for a while about how she is ever expanding with another of your babes, and you are entertaining yourself with a wench young enough to be your daughter.”
Xerxes rolled his eyes. “I shall pay her a visit and assure her she is yet the most beautiful woman in all Persia.” If her vanity was not given its regular stroking, they would all pay for it.
“More beautiful than the new one then? She will be glad to hear it.”
“There is no face lovelier than my queen’s. But remember, my son, that there is more to a pleasing wife than her face.” He arched a brow. “I suppose it is time to find you a wife of your own. Has anyone caught your eye?”
An odd expression flitted over Darius’s face. “I . . . would rather wait until after the war. I have little desire to get attached to a woman only to leave her within a month or two.”
He doubted it was so simple but saw no reason to press. “When we return triumphant, then. Ah, there are your uncle and Haman.”
The two men drew near, looking merry. When they stopped beside Darius, Haman gave Xerxes a courteous bow. “Mardonius said the king wishes to speak to me. You saw your Jewess again last night, did you not?”
Xerxes folded his arms across his chest. “Yes, though she was unaware of the ‘again’ until I entered the room. Why did you not inform her I was the one she met before?”
“She did not recognize her own king?” Haman snorted. “I assumed she knew.”
“Or wanted her to be in as much discomfort as possible? My friend, your distaste for her people is too consuming.”
Haman looked none too concerned at the rebuke. “They are a race of slaves.”
“As is your own. How grateful you should be, then, that your king is one who grants grace to the peoples he conquers. Hmm?”
“I am most grateful, master. It is the Jews who refuse to acknowledge your power and might.”
Masistes laughed and slapped a hand to Haman’s shoulder. “You will never convince him, my lord. And I must say, I too wonder how she could not recognize you.”
“I daresay she did not expect the king to be riding with only one attendant—she would not have seen my eunuchs. And since Haman did not make it clear and Hegai had assumed it was you Haman rode with . . .”
Haman attempted to fight back a grin. He failed. “Fascinating. Masistes, your brother’s new wife thought herself in love with you and yet forced to marry another.”
Darius shook his head. “What a terrible week she must have spent.”
Haman rolled his eyes. “It serves the girl right for her shameless conduct.”
“Shameless? She is shameless for trying to talk her way out of a situation she considered dangerous?” A familiar heat thrummed to life in Xerxes’ chest, pushing him to his feet. “Whatever your opinion of her and her people, Haman, you will do well to remember that she is now my wife.”
One thing must be said for Haman—he always knew when to back away before Xerxes’ temper could flare too hot. “Of course, master. I am glad you have found some entertainment with the girl.”
Masistes took a step away. “Well, I am intrigued. I say we visit the women, flatter the queen, and get a glimpse of my brother’s newest paramour. What say you, my lord?”
Xerxes grinned and fell in beside his brother. “The queen could use some flattering. Let us go.”
He had not paid a visit to the women’s palace in several weeks, but he was not surprised to find the gardens flourishing, the adornments shining. The younger of his children ran about, darting this way and that, though the older ones were at their studies. He kept a close eye on all his sons’ progress—some of them would be generals, other satraps, governors. All must learn to bear the burden of responsibility.
His gaze raked over the women that were out of their rooms. A few sat at looms, others stitched, some fastened gold decorations onto their clothing. Still more, Amestris among them, merely sat. Usually she made it a point to outdo the others and produce the loveliest garments for him, herself, and their four children. But she was not exactly a young woman anymore . . . perhaps carrying this child was harder on her than he knew, especially with the added stress of this week’s feast. He ought to arrange for a special gift for her. If he were lucky, it would deflect her irritation over “the wench young enough to be his daughter.”
Kasia he saw nowhere. It took a moment for the expectant spike in his pulse to smooth back down to normal.
After pausing to greet each child and its mother he finally reached Amestris and gave her a smile. “There you are, my queen. The child in your womb must be blessed indeed, for you are lovelier today than ever.”
Amestris turned her eyes up. They were a perfect almond shape, the color of a round of amber. But the only spark to light them these days was of irritation. Her temperament had worsened when she became queen. It seemed power fed her discontent.
Her smile, if insincere, was nonetheless stunning. “How
