there was that spark that could so quickly be fanned into a dangerous hatred. Xerxes grinned into it. “Naturally I must pay my respects to the group, but seeking you was my primary goal. Is it not so, Darius?”
His son smiled guilelessly. “The moment I told him you were not feeling well this morning, he hastened to see you.”
She looked far from appeased. “The others are muttering about this Jewess. Why must the king shame us by adding a slave to our numbers? One the very age of his esteemed daughter?”
It was all he could do not to roll his eyes. His brides were always within a certain age group. Could he help that his eldest daughter was now of marrying age as well? “I assure you, Amestris, all I do is out of concern for you. Have you not made it clear I am to find my entertainment elsewhere when you are with child?” Or with a mild ache in her head. Or a sore toe. Or in a sour temper. Or sometimes, he suspected, if her hair would not lie just so. Between all her complaints, she would not receive him three hundred sixty of the three hundred sixty-five days a year.
Amestris settled her arms over the protruding round of her stomach and scowled. “Is she pretty?”
“Pretty enough. Not so beautiful as you.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
The tension around her mouth softened. “I am ready to deliver this babe and present you with another son, that is all. This new girl—is she a full wife or a concubine?”
“Uh . . .” He straightened and glanced to Haman.
Haman arched a brow. “Her father had no money for a dowry, master, so she received the lesser contract.”
Amestris’s lips turned up. “Very well. Enjoy her while she holds your attention. And see that she is cautioned to stay out of my way. I am in no mood for the airs of an upstart concubine who knows not her place.”
“Of course.” He stepped back, giving the others a chance to smother her with flattery. His eyes tracked over the courtyard again.
Hegai stood in the corner—if anyone knew where Kasia would be, it was the custodian. He moved toward him.
Hegai bent low in greeting. “My king. We are honored to welcome you this morning.”
“Certainly. I was very pleased with Kasia. You did well with her.”
The servant smiled, his eyes bright. “Thank you, master. The young lady was very open to my advice, so I took pleasure in sharing your preferences. She is a lovely girl. A disposition unlike any of your other wives.”
“Indeed. Is she settling in well?”
Hegai’s smile curled into a grin. “You may want to see for yourself. She is in the back garden.”
Since his companions said their farewells to the queen, he motioned them to join him. “We will do that. She selected her room?”
“Yes, master.” Humor laced his tone.
Xerxes lifted a brow. “Let me guess—the smallest, barest one she could find.”
Hegai chuckled. “You know her well for so short an acquaintance.”
Darius, Masistes, and Haman drew near, so Xerxes only nodded and led the way down the hall that would open into the rear gardens. He stopped them just inside the door.
Amidst the trumpeting blooms and trees stretching toward heaven, a gaggle of tots sat entranced around a cross-legged Kasia. Though the eldest of the children could not be more than four, they all held still, faces intent upon her. And she sang. Hebrew, but he needed no vocabulary lesson to understand the playful tone. Her voice clear and sweet, she moved her hands in a dance of movement. When she tapped each child on the nose in turn, a chorus of giggles broke out.
Finding a woman who had a way with children was no great thing. But finding one whose face betrayed total delight as she lifted her voice? One who laughed along with them as if there were no greater joy? He had never met another creature who mustered such passion for each moment of life.
His brother stepped close to his side. “Lovely. I can see why you were intrigued.”
“Lovely, yes.” Haman sounded nowhere near impressed. “But better suited for a nursemaid than a wife of the king of kings.”
He shot his friend a glare. “She pleases me. Let that be that.”
“I will speak not another word of her.”
He glanced at his son to see whose side he would take up, and his breath bunched up in his chest. It was a look he knew well, that expression on Darius’s countenance. Knew it by feel. The same intrigue he himself was given to, the very one that had overcome him upon his first sighting of Kasia.
No. He would not suffer his son mooning over her, risking scandal and bad blood. He would not allow himself to consider that Darius was far closer to her in age. He would not let himself wonder if she would get a glimpse of the pup at his side and realize that her husband was, as Amestris helpfully pointed out, old enough to be her father.
Curse it.
“Father!”
The happy squeal stole his thoughts back from that vortex, and he looked down in time to scoop up little Chinara, who was aimed at his knees. With a chuckle, he settled her on his hip. “And a good morning to you, little sweet. Have you run off from your mother again?”
The wee one offered him an impish grin and no apology. “That is Kasia. She told us a story about a shepherd boy who fought a giant, and he won! And then the boy grew up to be king, but his sons were bad, and their people would not listen, and so eventually your father’s fathers carried them away.” She clapped chubby hands to his cheeks. “I know not why that made them cry. I like it when you carry me away, Father.”
He laughed and rewarded the mite’s wit with a kiss upon her brow. Chinara always brightened his day. “Shall I carry you around all day with me? You can help me pass judgment and plot out our great war against Greece.”
Her face gathered into a mask of consideration. “No. I shall listen to more of Kasia’s songs. But perhaps tomorrow I will help you, Father.”
“I will look forward to it.” He placed her back on her feet and then made himself face reality. The exchange would have caught Kasia’s attention. When he looked up, would he find her gaze had shifted and locked on Darius?
Her attention had indeed been snagged from the children. She had pulled her knees up, wrapped her arms around them. Her expression registered fascination, her eyes reflected what he would have called love, though she may apply the word more carefully than he. But she looked not at Darius. Nor at Masistes, at Haman, at any of the children. Her attention was his, and his alone.
Evening could not come fast enough.
Seven
Esther jerked up in her bed to fight the enemy holding her down. It took her a moment to realize her cover was tangled in her limbs, nothing more. Still, her heart thumped too fast, too hard, and dark images pounded her eyes.
There had been water everywhere. Pouring from
