Thankfully, Ima was emerging from the girls’ room as she entered. “Ima, Abba wants you and me to go to his shop. Now.”
Ima’s brows drew together. “What is it?”
“I know not, but he was very cross.”
“Probably a problem with the Persians again.” Ima loosed a sigh and set Esther’s bracelet down.“I cannot think why he would need both of us, but I suppose we shall find out.”
They moved together out the back door and into Abba’s shop. The scent of cypress shavings greeted them first, and then the steady regard of three men.
Kasia froze just inside, halted by the weight of those gazes. Abba’s, hard and demanding. A curious one from the man nearest him, a Persian in elegant clothes whom she had never seen before. And then the third . . . was he not the companion of the man she had met the other day?
Her knees nearly buckled. No wonder Abba looked so unhappy.
Ima slipped an arm around her and looked to Abba. “My husband, what is happening?”
He kept his harsh gaze on Kasia. “I think our daughter can best answer that question. Tell us, Kasia. How is it that the king has decided he will take you as a wife?”
Three
Kasia stared at her father for a long moment, certain her confusion clouded her face. “The king? I do not understand.”
Abba snorted. “Of course not. Had you any wit, you would have obeyed me when I told you never to speak to an unfamiliar Persian. And what do I find? You met two of them the other day and did not even see fit to mention it.”
The torc on her arm scorched her flesh, and her mouth went dry. “Abba, it was unintentional. We simply . . . came across them. This man,” she said with a gesture toward the somewhat-familiar Persian, “and his friend. The other offered to see us home, but I refused. That is all.”
“That is all,” Abba echoed. He folded his large arms across his chest. “And yet somehow that was enough to make it to the ear of Xerxes and intrigue him.”
Oh, curse her over-active tongue! But why would the king care? He did not have a reputation for valuing eloquence in his wives. Obedience perhaps, but she obviously had work to do there. “Abba . . .”
The familiar Persian stepped forward. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Haman, trusted only below the princes themselves. And this should not come as a surprise—surely you are not 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