He moved to tenderly cup her face and leaned down to kiss her. In spite of their audience, Kasia allowed herself to soak up all he poured into the touch. It would have to be enough to sustain her through the day.
A moment later he swept from the room, and with him went her breath. It sucked out in a sigh that left her deflated. The same maid who had smiled at her stepped close to her side. “Shall we show you to the house of wives, lady?”
Kasia shook herself and studied the servant. She was probably a few years older than Kasia, with features that looked European. “Certainly. What is your name?”
“Desma.” She dipped her head.
“It is good to meet you, Desma. And the rest of you?”
The other four maidservants introduced themselves, and then the two eunuchs. Kasia suspected it would take a day or two to remember them. They fell into formation around her and moved forward, leaving her little choice but to go where they did.
An attempt not to gawk at the hallways they traveled proved futile. How did one man amass such wealth? Everywhere, gold and silver and bronze, the finest polished stone, the rarest wood.
As they turned a corner, she spotted a statue carved of fine cypress that she would have loved to stop and examine. The figure itself held no interest for her, but the grain was exquisite. Her father would have considered finding such a piece of wood a treasure in itself.
Her nostrils flared, and she inclined her heart to Jehovah. Prayed that he would bless her father, her mother, her siblings. Esther and Mordecai.
It took several minutes to reach the separate palace that Desma introduced as her new home. But as soon as they stepped inside, Kasia smiled. Children’s laughter and squeals sounded, along with mothers’ and nurses’ admonitions. Her gaze settled on the courtyard, where a group of well-dressed women clustered with rhytons of wine in their hands and a banquet of fruit and bread on a table between them.
How long before she saw them as her equals? Would she ever?
Desma stepped closer to her side. “Shall I show you the available chambers, mistress?”
Kasia swallowed down the rising panic and directed the question toward God. A peace settled over her. “No. Take me to the meanest one.”
Desma’s spine straightened. “Mistress?”
“I have enemies enough here, Desma. I will not create more by putting myself above any of them.”
“But you
are
above them, mistress. The king has never given any of his wives the choice of their chambers.”
“Perhaps not. But since he has given it to me, it is my prerogative to choose the place most comfortable.” She smiled, wondering if this girl realized that until a week ago, their situations were not so different. “I daresay even the vilest of these rooms will be far more luxurious than to what I am accustomed. In my father’s house, I was fortunate to share a room with only my four sisters and not also with my five brothers.”
The corner of Desma’s mouth tugged up. “Ten of you? Your mother must be a woman of limitless patience.”
“And limitless love.” Who was helping her with the wee ones now? The twins were the next eldest girls, but they were too involved with their own thoughts. Ah well, they would have to step out of their private world. At least Eglah and Sarai were well behaved. The younger boys, though . . . they delighted in giving the girls grief.
Desma sighed. “Very well. This way.”
They skirted the courtyard and moved down a hallway lined with doors. Desma stopped before a closed one at the end, and another of the maidservants—Leda, was it?—tugged the iron ring to open it. The taller of the eunuchs, Theron, entered first and took account of the chamber before nodding. The group broke their ranks so that she might enter.
It was a dim room, the only windows low and small. But the scent of flowers wafted in from them, and the appointments were blessedly simple.
Desma shook her head. “It is too close, surely. There is another—”
“No, it is perfect.” She noted two other chambers connected to this one, probably intended for the servants or perhaps a child or two. Put together, it was as large as her father’s house. “Perfect.”
Though her surprise was colored with disbelief, Desma relented with a tilt of her head. “As you wish, mistress. We will have your belongings brought over.”
Three of the maids scurried away, and the eunuchs took up position in the corners of the room. Kasia looked around, wondering how a wife was to pass her days when she had no household, no mending or cooking, and no babes.
“Well, this is most unusual.”
At the vaguely familiar voice of Queen Atossa, Kasia spun back to the doorway. Xerxes’ mother stood in all her regal splendor with a lifted brow and a crooked smile. “Here you are in the lowliest chamber of the house of wives, yet my son assures me you are all he hoped and more.”
When the queen mother took a step into the small room, her presence seemed to fill it so much Kasia felt she should kneel in deference. She allowed herself only to dip her head. “He gave me leave to choose my own rooms.”
“And you chose this?”
“As you see.”
Atossa shook her head, but her face reflected approval. “You are an odd girl, Kasia. And I have not seen the king smile so brightly since he was a boy. Come, share the meal with me and some of the other women I think you will like. We will introduce you to life here—and teach you how to avoid Amestris, though you will have to appear at her feast this week.”
More relieved than excited, Kasia followed her new matriarch out the door.
Six
Xerxes settled onto his throne and scanned the courtroom. Even at such an early hour, it was filled with men chattering, arguing, laughing. Some in military regalia, others in the finery of private citizens. Still more in the rough garb of commoners come to seek help or counsel.
All signs of a busy, productive empire. And yet on this morning, the empire made his smile dim. This morning, he would prefer to forget he was king for a few more hours.
“My lord.” His uncle appeared at his side, a telltale line in his forehead. Artabanus could out-worry any man in the kingdom—if Xerxes listened to his every concern, nothing would ever get done. The war was a perfect example—he had very nearly changed his mind about the campaign based on Artabanus’s advice. Had it not been for that startling vision they shared two years ago . . .
Even his uncle could not maintain his skepticism in the face of the god.
Xerxes greeted him with a smile. “What is it today, uncle?”
“Another stretch of canal has collapsed at Athos.”
Xerxes stifled a groan. This was
not
how he wanted to spend his day. He would rather dwell on thoughts of his sweet Kasia and her excitement at another night in his arms. “Naturally. A plan we adopted to
avoid
problems, and it causes more. I wonder if sailing around the mountain could prove any more a travail than bypassing it. Repairs?”
“They are reinforcing the walls, I believe, but the collapse killed a great many workers.”
Xerxes rested a knuckle against his lips and sighed. “Something must be done about these continual collapses. Has every group encountered it?”
“All but the Phoenicians.”
“An exception worthy of note.” Xerxes straightened and lifted a brow. “What are they doing differently than everyone else?”
Artabanus’s mouth flopped open for a moment. “Well . . . I recall hearing something about how ridiculously wide their excavations were at the start—twice as wide as the rest of the canal. There was some grumbling about it.”
Sometimes it felt as though the rest of the world were idiots. “Artabanus, there is a reason we put the Phoenicians and the Egyptians in charge of the bridge over the Hellespont. Their engineering acumen is unsurpassed. Has it occurred to no one that they made it wider to avoid these collapses?”
“I know not, my lord, I was only apprised of all this recently. But of course, you speak rightly. Should all adopt the model?”
“Where possible, unless it would take longer to widen it than to shore it up and finish. They must use discretion, if that is not asking too much.” Perhaps he ought to have put Phoenician overseers in charge of this entire project too. He had instead opted to maintain autonomy between the different nations working on the canal, but what he gained in peace he lost in quality.
“I will make your wishes known.”
“I trust you will. Mardonius!”
His cousin and oldest friend set his course for the throne. Artabanus stiffened but managed a polite greeting.
Mardonius offered him a taunting smile, then nodded with more sincerity to Xerxes. “The king is looking well this morning.”
Xerxes chuckled. “For once I believe your flattery. Have you seen Haman yet?”
His friend shook his head. “He is probably riding with your brother, master.”
“If you see them before I do, tell him to come to me at once.”
“Certainly.” With a courteous bow, Mardonius strode off.
Artabanus released a pent-up breath and muttered, “I maintain that such a wise king ought not surround himself with such injudicious advisers.”
His lips wanted to twitch up. “Uncle, need I remind you that the advice you consider his greatest offense is the war you now believe in?”
“If a man advocates a wise course for the wrong reasons, it makes him not wise, my lord. Only lucky. It is obvious from our visions that the god wishes you to lead us against Greece. That does not mean the evil one will not try to turn your certain victory into defeat through the bad advice of fools.”
“But even within the advice of fools is often hidden a pearl of wisdom. A wise man searches it out before dismissing the rest. And when a wise man has a wise uncle to help him discern those pearls . . .”
His uncle’s lips finally curved up. “Then blessings will follow, and soon enough you will rule all the world. You know my worries are only out of my devotion to you.”
“Indeed. Go, write your missive to Mount Athos. I will speak with Darius for a moment.”
“Ah, of course.” Artabanus turned and offered a warm smile to the young man hurrying toward them. “Good morning, my prince.”
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.”