Jewel of Persia. Roseanna M. White

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      Since laughter coated his father’s voice, Darius smiled up at him. “I wrestled the beast into submission with my bare hands.”

      “An able warrior indeed.” Father nodded to one of his attendants, and a moment later a trumpet call rang out. All eyes on him, Xerxes raised his arms wide. “Welcome, noble guests and esteemed friends, to the final night of our feast. Let each man sit where he will and drink his fill—to the garden!”

      A cheer went up. On most nights, no one could drink more than the king, and all was ordered at his command. He must be in a prime mood. Persia had Kasia the Jewess to thank, Darius suspected.

      A sigh snuck past his lips as he followed his father to the garden. Xerxes was not just the king—he was the epitome of what a man should be. One of the tallest men at court, his figure was well hewn from years of military training. Though he passed most of his days on the throne, he could wield a spear or loose an arrow with the skill of any Immortal. He held his authority with a firm fist but a ready smile. He was fair, he was affable, and when his temper snapped, usually without much warning, he was as fearsome as the god.

      Darius would be like that. A man of reputation, one who had earned respect through war and wise counsel. He would prove his bravery in battle, he would increase his strength through training.

      Maybe then Artaynte would greet his advances with something other than laughter. She would realize that his being heir apparent was in fact not his only attribute, as she had accused a week ago. Those enticing lips would turn up in welcome instead of mockery. She would realize how blessed she was to have his heart.

      If he asked his father for her, Xerxes would arrange a marriage with a snap of his finger. A better match could not be made—she was his cousin, her blood pure and strong. Masistes would be ecstatic to know his daughter would reign as queen someday. If Darius asked, she would have no choice but to wed him. She would be his.

      But she would not be his. She would be like Darius’s mother, the wife with all the honor but no affection for her husband. That was not the marriage he wanted.

      Better first to earn her love. Right now she was but a girl who saw him as a boy, one she had known all her life. But once he returned a hero from Greece, that would change. She would see him differently, would come to love him. Then he would ask his father for her hand, and their marriage would be celebrated through the whole world.

      Xerxes settled beside him with lifted brows. “I know that look. What lovely curves are you dreaming of, my son?”

      Darius felt his face flush and cleared his throat. It took firm resolve to keep from darting his gaze to his uncle, who sat on a couch at his father’s other side. “None worth mentioning. What of you? Is your pleasant mood thanks to that exquisite concubine we met the other day?”

      The Jewess was a far safer subject than Artaynte, and thought of her had provided a welcome distraction over the past few days. Claiming such a creature was one of the benefits of being king. Concubines could be enjoyed and dismissed at will.

      Strange though . . . that flash in his father’s eyes spoke of involvement. Perhaps nothing was ever simple. “She pleases me well, yes.”

      Masistes laughed and picked up his rhyton of wine. “I imagine. Will you take her with you into Greece?”

      Xerxes took a long drink from his gold cup. “I have not thought on which of my concubines will travel with me.”

      “My wife and daughter are already begging to go with us as far as Sardis.” Masistes shrugged and chose a piece of meat. “I imagine it is safe enough for them to go that far. With your blessing of course, my lord.”

      Darius’s father waved a dismissive hand. “As you wish, Masistes.”

      A bite of bread lodged in Darius’s throat. It would take them over a year to meander to Sardis, gathering the army as they went, and then they would likely wait out the winter there. Time he thought he would spend away from Artaynte.

      “What of the queen? Will she go into Lydia with us?”

      “Doubtful.” Xerxes surveyed the assembly. Darius looked over the garden too. The white and blue tapestries fluttered in the breeze as guests chose their couches of gold and silver. Slaves circled the room offering golden goblets of wine. It was a fine feast.

      “It would be rather soon after her confinement,” his uncle mused. “Parsisa will miss her, I am sure.”

      The words were right, but the tone of his voice made them all smile. It was no great secret that his aunt Parsisa did not get along with his mother. Most people did not get along with his mother.

      Xerxes laughed outright. “Well, we must think of the health of her and the babe. I shall have to make do with concubines and send the wives to Persepolis where it is safe.”

      Masistes shook his head. “You agreed that Sardis would be safe enough.”

      “Safe enough for your wives. Not for mine.” Xerxes winked and took another drink of his wine.

      His uncle loosed a guffaw. “Which is to say, you would rather not be bothered with them. Understandable—your mind will be occupied with stratagem. And the Jewess, perhaps?”

      Again, Darius saw a strange flash in his father’s eyes. “Did I not just say I had not made up my mind?”

      “But if rumor is to be trusted, you have seen no one else this week. Surely if she holds your attention so completely, you would not want to be parted from her. She must be an exceptional lover.”

      “Masistes. Enough.” Temper colored the smile he turned on Darius. “What of you, my son? A man at war often needs a woman to soothe him. Will you choose a girl to take with you?”

      A fine idea. He could find a slave so beautiful Artaynte would grow jealous, one who fawned over him instead of pointing out his shortcomings. “I may, at that. One with a fire to match what I saw in your Kasia. Does she have sisters?”

      His father looked none too amused at the joke. “Four of them, but the next eldest, twins, are only twelve.”

      Masistes arched his brows. “You know the ages of her sisters? Planning to add them to your harem after they age a bit, too? A wise idea. If one is pleasing, then three—”

      “Masistes! Shall I define ‘enough’ for you?” With a motion of a single finger, Xerxes ordered his cup refilled. “Her sisters will be left alone. And while we are leaving things alone, no more talk of Kasia. If you wish a companion but not a wife, my son, look not among the Jews.”

      Darius grinned. “A shame. If yours is typical, they are a people worth looking twice at.”

      His father threw back the entire horn of wine in one long series of gulps.

      Artabanus leaned close to Darius’s ear. “You will do well not to mention her again, my prince.”

      Darius’s good humor turned into a frown. “It is a compliment of his taste.”

      “Can you not see the light of jealousy in his eyes? This one is special to him. If you praise her, he will think you intend a seduction.”

      “Absurd.”

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