Jewel of Persia. Roseanna M. White

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ blind to your daughter’s extraordinary handsomeness.”

      The muscle in Abba’s jaw ticked. “Her beauty is no business of the king’s. She is a Jew.”

      “A Jew in his land.” Haman’s voice lost all hint of warmth. “Try to refuse him and you will learn how quickly the heel of Xerxes can crush. It seems to me you have too many mouths to feed to lose your livelihood over this.”

      A shadow moved around the corner. Zechariah. She gripped Ima’s hand and prayed as she had never prayed before.

      This could not be happening. It was not possible. Yes, she disobeyed her father by venturing to the river. Yes, she spoke to the Persian when he forbade it. But how had that turned into this? This was not what she had dreamed of the last few nights. She wanted nothing to do with Xerxes. The other man, perhaps, but even him . . . it had been a dream. Nothing more. Nothing that should have become such a nightmare.

      Where was her Persian? Had he, too, told the king about her? Was he perhaps even one of the king’s scouts, who deliberately searched the land for beautiful virgins to add to the harem? Had his interest been only on behalf of his king?

      “Kasia.” Ima managed to turn her name into a moan, a plea. “Tell them they have the wrong girl.”

      Her shoulders sagged. Perhaps they could have tried that argument if only strangers had arrived today, and before she admitted to meeting them, but now?

      Haman smirked and strode over to them. Kasia battled the urge to recoil against her mother as he approached.

      He reached out, gripped her wrist, and raised her arm until her sleeve fell back. The silver torc gleamed. “No mistaking that, is there?”

      Her parents both gasped, and a shuffle came from her brother’s hiding spot. Kasia let her eyes slide shut. She should have taken it off. Should have refused it to begin with, no matter how alluring the stranger’s gaze. It had probably been nothing but a brand—something to prove she was chosen for the king.

      She was a fool. And now she would have to pay the price for it.

      When she opened her eyes, Abba’s face was mottled red. “Is this how I raised you, Kasia? To play the harlot for a Persian dog?”

      Haman spun around, jerked her with him. “Watch your tongue, swine.”

      Abba ignored Haman and glared at her. “You have shamed us all. Why would you accept such a mark from our oppressors? Do you think they give without asking something in return?”

      Tears stung her eyes. “I am sorry, Abba. I tried to refuse it, but—”

      “Enough of this.” Haman released her arm and motioned the other man forward. “This is Hegai, the custodian of the women. He will instruct you on what you may bring to the palace. I suppose you have no dowry?”

      Abba’s fingers curled into his palm. “Even if she did, I would not give it to you. No daughter of mine weds a Persian, even Xerxes himself. Especially Xerxes himself.”

      Haman look unfazed. “Then I suppose you are officially one daughter less. This girl is coming with me. Fight me, and you will lose.”

      Abba looked like he might try anyway. Kasia ran to him and threw her arms around his waist. “I am sorry, Abba. I did not mean for this to happen.”

      “I know.” His voice went soft and low, a mere murmur against her hair as his arms closed around her. “I know not what to do, daughter. I do not want to lose you, but how does a lowly Jewish man fight the king of kings?”

      She buried her face in his chest. It smelled of wood and Abba. “You do not, or the family will suffer.”

      He held her tighter for a moment, then eased up again. “It will be like burying you, child. You will be in another world, another life. They will make you Persian. Strip you of your heritage.”

      “They cannot strip my soul of its love for Jehovah.”

      “They will try.” He pulled away and touched his knuckle to her chin. “I will spare your siblings the truth of this. I am sorry to do it, sweet one, but it is better they think you in the bosom of Abraham than another wife to the tyrant.”

      A few tears splashed onto her cheeks. “You will tell them I am dead?”

      “I see little choice.”

      “Abba!”

      Ima bit back a sob. Kasia shook her head as a wash of numbness swept over her. Anger and pain, as cathartic as they would be, would change nothing. But perhaps logic could. “People will have seen them come in here. They will see me leave.”

      “I will tell them the Persians came inquiring on a price for carving. They have done so before, even if they rarely deign to give me their business.”

      Haman snorted. “I imagine if your daughter pleases the king, he will gladly have a few pieces commissioned.”

      Abba’s nostrils flared. She was unsure what he thought about that suggestion, but it made her knees go weak. How, exactly, was a girl to please a king? “What of my leaving with them?”

      “You will not.” Abba straightened his spine, rolled back his shoulders, and stared down the Persians. “You will leave separately, head to the river where you met them before. ”

      Haman waved a hand as if such details were of no concern to him. “As you please. Hegai, instruct her on her possessions while I settle the contract.”

      The other man gave her a gentle smile. “You will receive new garments and jewelry, perfumes and oils. Bring only a few small items of sentimental value. With all respect to your father, you seem to have nothing else worthy to be seen in the king’s household.”

      Kasia swallowed back her dismay. She would have nothing familiar, then. Nothing of home, since they never had enough money to spare for trinkets, and she had given all her childhood treasures to her sisters. “I . . . I can think of nothing to bring.”

      The sorrow in his eyes said he understood. “Very well. Eat with your family one last time, then go to the river. We will be waiting there.”

      She managed a nod, kept her back straight as the two men left. But the moment they were gone, her knees buckled and she fell to the floor. Ima’s arms encircled her in the next second, Ima’s tears mixed with hers.

      This was not how she should have felt upon her betrothal. This was not the betrothal she should have had. Had she not been thinking just minutes before about marrying Mordecai? Now he would think her dead. And Esther . . .

      “Ima, please.” She spoke in a whisper at her mother’s ear. “Please tell Esther the truth. She should not have to face yet another death.”

      Ima’s sobs hitched. “I dare not cross your father on this. I know how it will hurt her, but we will comfort each other.”

      There was nothing to do but nod. And wonder who would be there to comfort her.

      ~*~

      Zechariah stood just inside the doorway, where the cool breezes brought by the rain could whisper СКАЧАТЬ