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 over his skin. Behind him, the house was silent. No weeping, no mourning, no frantic prayers to a deaf God. No more pleas to the heavens that Kasia be returned to them.
His nostrils flared as he swallowed back anger and grief. They knew he had been listening. Still, they expected him to play along. To bid his favorite sister farewell as if she were only running an errand. To wonder with the others where she was when darkness fell and the rains came with it. To search the banks of the swollen river long into the night.
He had done what they expected. Had trudged back home with a solemn Mordecai a few hours earlier. Had held his tongue. But his heart—his heart cried out to Jehovah, “Why? Why did your creation help in this terrible ruse?”
He had thought, when he heard Abba’s plan, that it would never be believed. But then the unexpected monsoon had rolled in, and it became all too possible that a girl could have fallen into the river and been carried away. Never to be found, never to be seen again.
That much, at least, was true. She might as well have been swallowed by the palace, never to emerge again. Except, of course, when the king’s household left Susa and headed to its summer home at Persepolis. When would that be? Another month? A fortnight? Soon. They never stayed longer than half a year.
Zechariah folded his arms over his chest and watched the water drip from the roof. It seemed as though in a few minutes, Kasia would come stumbling from the room she shared with the other girls to get breakfast started. She would smile, joke about his secretive nightly training. He would tease her about her suitors.
It was her beauty that cursed her. He had known her face was exceptional—it was hard to miss when his friends stared constantly—but he had never thought she would gain the attention of the king. That did not happen in their neighborhood, to their community. It should not have happened to his sister. Why could the king not have given his attention to the women of his own country, who would be honored and pleased to become another of his concubines?
Light footfalls alerted him that he was no longer alone a moment before Esther’s soft voice broke the stillness. “Any word?”
He turned, saw that her eyes were red and swollen, circled with dark shadows. She had stayed with the younger girls through the night but obviously had not slept much. Zechariah shook his head. “I cannot imagine there will be any, at this point.”
Esther blinked rapidly. “How can you say that? Perhaps she took shelter with someone.”
“They would have heard us searching.” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. These lies tasted like wormwood. Did the king realize he was chipping off another shard of this young girl’s heart? As if he would care, even if he knew. “I am sorry, Esther. But Kasia is gone.”
The shake of her head was violent, and the tears she had blinked away from her eyes ripped from her throat. “No. I cannot accept it. She is . . . she was . . . oh, Zechariah, it is all my fault! She never would have gone down to the river yesterday, but for me. She must have been looking for my bracelet.”
“Esther, no.” He raked a hand over his hair. How could Abba insist on this falsehood? Poor little Esther—she did not deserve such guilt. He knew Kasia would have wanted her to know the truth. Even in her last moments with them . . . “I’d forgotten—everyone must have. They found your bracelet yesterday. They mentioned it at dinner last night.”
Though a measure of pain left her face, confusion replaced it instead of relief. “Then why would she have . . . ?”
Realization flushed her cheeks. Zechariah’s tired mind took a long moment to make sense of that, until he realized Esther would have been with Kasia four days ago, when she had first met the Persians. And now she would think she could have prevented this had she told someone what happened.
Zechariah sighed and rested a hand on her shoulder. She was nothing but a wisp. Too delicate, surely, to carry such a burden. She would try. But perhaps she would let him shoulder part of it, if she realized it would not be a betrayal of Kasia’s confidence.
He bent down so that he could meet her watery brown eyes. “She told me,” he whispered. “About the men you two met the other day at the river. You are thinking of that, are you not? That she went back to that spot?”
How could a girl no more than a child look at him with a gaze so very old? “I know she did. She had been unable to put it from her mind, but then I told her . . . you know Kasia. She would have gone back there to settle her thoughts.”
Zechariah reached up to thumb away a stream of tears from her cheek. “What did you tell her?”
She pulled her lip between her teeth, eyes on his shoulder.
He drew in a long breath and straightening. “Tell me, Esther.”
She would not appreciate the tone—it would remind her that he was a man, she a child, in spite of the shy smiles she gave him. He had done his best to ignore her attention in the past to keep from embarrassing her, but right now he would demand obedience along with her childish devotion. It was the only way to help her.
Her shoulders slumped, her gaze fell to the ground. “Mordecai was going to speak for her.”
A curse very nearly slipped out. If only he had, a week ago. Then Kasia would have been too busy with wedding preparations to sneak off to the river, and the ill-fated meeting with the Persians would never have happened.
Zechariah scrubbed his hand over his face. “Let us not mention that to Abba, hmm? It would upset him all the more, to realize what could have been.”
Her nod looked heavy, sad. “I am sorry, Zechariah. I should never have mentioned it to her. Then she would not have—”
“Shh.” Unable to stand the sorrow emanating from her face, he pulled her against his chest and rested his chin on the top of her head. “This is not your fault, Esther. It was an accident. Kasia escaped to the river more frequently than you know, to think and relax in the few moments she could.”
“But—”
“No buts. She went for a walk last night, nothing more. Got caught in the rain, slipped into the river. It is a tragedy, but it is not your fault.”
A shudder ran through her.
He knew the feeling.