He moved to where the new garments rested, chose a few of the fine pieces—a sleeveless red sheath in the style of the Egyptians, topped with a robe of white linen so finely woven it was translucent. Servants helped her into them behind the screen, and then she emerged and turned again for the custodian’s approval.
He nodded. “They suit you well. One necklace, I think, to showcase the fine column of your throat.”
“And my torc.” Perhaps that would prove a mistake, wearing the gift that reminded her of Masistes, who continued to haunt her dreams. Or perhaps the king would recognize what marked her as his, if that was its purpose.
“Of course.” He handed her the silver with its two lions’ heads, and while she fitted it onto her arm, he selected an intricately worked necklace for her.
When he turned her to face the mirror of polished bronze, Kasia held her breath. But the image was not so unfamiliar. Finer clothing, yes. And the wink of precious metals was new. But it was her face, unchanged. Her hair, if glossier and trimmed to have more motion in its length. She was still Kasia, daughter of Kish. But how would Kasia, daughter of Kish, fare as Kasia, wife of Xerxes?
The door opened, and seven servants entered. Hegai welcomed them with a nod and a smile. “Your escort. They will take you to the king’s chambers and will remain your servants in the house of wives. The rest of your things will be taken over in the morning, once the king gives instruction on where you will stay.”
She looked to the servants, but none met her gaze. She turned back to Hegai. “Is there anything else I should know?”
“More than I can tell you right now, and we are out of time.” He smiled and approached her, rested his hands on her shoulders. “You will be all right, Kasia. Queen Atossa has promised to take you under her wing, and she will see that you learn all you must. For now, think only of the king, your husband.”
Did he not realize that those thoughts made her stomach clench in terror?
He dropped his hands and stepped from between her and the door. “Go.”
She knew not what else to do, so she obeyed. Strode forward with all the false confidence she could muster and took her place in the middle of the servants. They led the way out through the gardens, toward the king’s palace. Twilight lit the path, and the fragrance of jasmine touched the air. Soothed her soul.
They moved through a small rear door, along a dark hallway, and finally into a chamber far larger than several of her neighbors’ houses combined. The rich appointments did little to make the cavernous space feel more welcoming. At least it was empty of anyone but her own company.
One of the servants turned to her. “The king declared a week-long feast as plans are finalized for the war. Some nights he may return early, other nights when dawn streaks the sky. We will wait with you until he comes—is there anything you would like?”
She could be waiting here for hours? Kasia shook her head. “Thank you, but no.”
The darkness of the room propelled her to the low windows, where the last streaks of sun were visible on the horizon. She sucked in a breath of appreciation when she beheld the vista from the king’s window. The entire city of Susa stretched before her, awash in fire and shadow from the setting sun. There, far to the side, wended the river. There, the temple. That meant that her family’s house was somewhere in that cluster of darkened silhouettes.
A pang of homesickness struck her in the chest. She had barely had time to miss them during waking hours these last days, but now thoughts of her family filled her. Ima would be putting the littlest ones into bed for the night, picking up the remnants of a busy day. Abba would be settling down to a few minutes of repose, talking with Zechariah about the project they would work on the next day. Zechariah would try to work in a few comments about joining the army, but Abba would put him off again, saying God’s chosen people had no place fighting for their oppressors.
Did they miss her? Did they weep for her still?
A shaft of pain lanced through her, and her eyes slid shut. Hebrew words, usually spoken only at home, came to her lips. “Jehovah God, pour out your healing balm upon my precious sisters and brothers, upon my parents. Ease their grief and their pain. Help Zechariah release the anger I know he felt. And Esther . . . she must feel like yet another loved one has abandoned her. Help her to find a friend to sustain her, and to find comfort in comforting my family. Bless Mordecai for all his goodness and righteousness. Let him not suffer any more for my sake. He deserves better. He deserves the best you have to offer.”
She paused, half expecting loneliness to swamp her. To feel isolated, cut off from God and her people alike as she had all week.
But her conscience resonated now within her. Her God was a living God. A present God. Even in the midst of captivity, when the remnant of his children called out to him, he answered. He was as close as a prayer. Had she but cried for him sooner, this week would not have passed so slowly, with such agonizing solitude.
So long as she kept her heart aligned with him, he would sustain her. No matter the back-biting, the sneers from the other women. No matter the disregard she knew to expect from her husband. Even here, she would remain a child of Jehovah.
A shift rippled through the servants, and the one nearest her whispered, “The king comes.”
Even as the words were spoken, Kasia heard the door open. She drew in another long breath of peace and thanked Jehovah for stilling the tremble of fear in her limbs.
“Leave us.”
The voice sent a different kind of tremble up her spine. It should not have surprised her that the king sounded so much like his brother, but she had not been braced for the similarity. It brought an image of that forbidden face to her mind, one that she struggled to push back down.
The shuffle of feet moved toward the door, and Kasia knew she must face her king. Her husband. As she turned, she wondered what other similarities she would find between this man and the one she had met at the river.
The king stood at the mid-point of the room, his eyes locked on her. Eyes that were filled with light. He had a nose straight and strong. A mouth quirked up into a half-smile.
Kasia let her eyes go round, let the last of the anxiety seep out. “You? You are the king?”
Five
Xerxes watched realization light Kasia’s face and thoughts roll through her eyes. She was as beautiful as he remembered, the changes his custodian made enhancing what captured him from the start. He evened out his smile and took another step forward. “Haman did not tell you I was the one with him?”
She shook her head, eyes still wide. “He said nothing. And Hegai assumed it was your brother.”
He chuckled—and determined to express his displeasure to Haman. “So you thought that I, as brother to the king, had . . . what? Told this brother of your extraordinary beauty and relinquished my interest to the crown?”
Kasia eased forward, her gaze on his face. “Something like that.”
“You ascribe to me far too much selflessness. Even were I my brother, I would not have given you up. Not with the way you have been haunting my thoughts.”
She kept moving toward him, albeit slowly. He caught the glimmer of a torc on
