Esther expected her hand to shake. Jehovah steadied her. She expected nerves to sour her stomach. She ate and drank without problem. She expected her tongue to twist
when her husband looked over at her and asked, “What is this petition of yours, Esther? It shall be granted to you, up to half my kingdom.”
Peace infused her, and she could look from Haman to the king without a qualm. Perhaps her life would be forfeit, but her people would be saved. She knew that. When he
realized what Haman had done, he would find a path of mercy for the Jews. He would do it for Kasia’s sake, for her family and friends.
As for Esther . . . who knew how angry he may be to learn she had lied to him all this time? He would spare her people, but the price could very well be her head.
She drew in a calm breath and set her cup upon the table. “If I have found favor in your sight—if it pleases you, my king—then I ask for my life.”
Xerxes frowned and set his cup down with a splash. “Your life is in no danger.”
“On the contrary, my husband, my life and the lives of all my people have been sold for destruction. Had we been sold as slaves, I would not speak, though the enemy never
would have been able to compensate for the loss it would mean for you. But the wicked man who did this would have us all killed. Man, woman, even our children.”
His frown deepened. “What enemy? Who?” He sat up straight, that infamous temper kindling in his eyes. “Who would dare devise such a thing?”
She had always retreated in the face of his anger, left Kasia to handle it. But tonight it brought strength to her spine. She whispered a mental prayer, inclined her heart
to Jehovah.
The lights grew brighter, the shadows darkened. Esther nearly gasped. Was this what Kasia had told her about? The clear presence of the Lord, and the enemies held at bay?
Was that warmth at the base of her neck the touch of an angel? And the emptiness that tried to suck the life from the room, that seemed to crouch behind Haman, was that what
her friend had to battle every time she looked at him?
The Spirit settled over her. The breath she drew in expanded her lungs, her shoulders seemed to grow and harden. And the man before her shrank into a shriveling shadow.
“Him.” She held her arm out straight, level with Haman. Though it trembled a little, she felt no fear. No, only indignation, and fierce determination. “The adversary and
enemy is Haman.”
Haman sprang to his feet, face devoid of color. “My queen, I do not know what you mean. Your people—I do not even know who your people are.”
Letting her arm lower, she raised her chin. “Perhaps you ought to have inquired before you sent out a proclamation of death against all the Jews.”
“You are a Jewess?” Panic and disgust did battle across his countenance. The panic won. “Please, my queen. My king. I did not know. I did not—”
“Silence!” Xerxes surged to his feet, knocking over the table before him. “How dare you use my authority for such a grotesque task? After I trusted you with my kingdom,
after I called you brother? I could . . .”
He clenched a fist, took a step. But when Haman cowered, Xerxes only spat a curse and charged through the door to the gardens.
Haman fell to his knees, weeping. “Please, my queen. Please, spare my life. Spare my family.”
The darkness came off him in waves, a foul odor in her nostrils. How could anyone embrace it as he had? How could he not see that it did not fill him but rather left him a
hollow shell? “You would have spared none of mine.”
“Please!” He crawled over to her, gripped her feet in supplication.
She fought the urge to recoil, to kick at him. His touch may be despicable, but it was only that of a defeated man.
The darkness could not reach her.
*
Xerxes sent an urn of flowers into the fountain and gripped his hair at the roots. Haman. What had that devil done? What had Xerxes allowed him to do? He would really sell
the Jews to their deaths? All of them?
Why? Why did he hate them so? Yes, he was an Agagite. Yes, centuries ago the Jews had all but destroyed his people. What did that have to do with now, with the people who
made Susa flourish, who had prayed them through war and disaster?
What did that have to do with his wife—his wives, apparently—and their families?
He seethed to a halt at the bolt of realization. Haman had always disliked the Jews, but it had been of little import before he wed Kasia and took an interest in them for
her sake. He had watered the seed of hatred as he poured favor upon her and hers.
He should have paid attention. Should have realized it was not merely disdain. Why had he not listened to Kasia’s grumbles about that?
Because he had been guilty—guilty of killing Masistes, Haman’s closest friend.
It was his own fault. He had brought this upon them. And now he would have to figure out a way to save the Jews. To save Kasia, if she lived long enough to be saved.
And Esther.
He turned, stared at the window to her rooms. He still needed a few answers from Esther.