CHAPTER
Two

Vashti looked up at the sound of the door opening. Little feet pounded the mosaic tiles until her son flopped onto the couch at her side. “Maman, you must come!”

Vashti laughed at the dimpled grin on Gazsi’s face. She set her needlework aside and took his young hands in hers. “And what is so important that I must see?”

“Omid showed me a place in the wall where we can look down on the dancing, and they are playing games and singing. Maman, you must see it!” Gazsi’s earnest look gave Vashti pause. She glanced toward the door, where the eunuch in charge of his care stood at attention.

“Omid, did you take my son to see the king’s celebration?”

Omid stepped closer and bowed low. “He saw only a little, my queen. The noise was so great that I could not keep him from constantly asking to see. It will not happen again, my queen.”

“See that it does not.” She would have called the celebration by a far worse name, for to her it was simply drunken revelry, but she knew to Xerxes it was much more. Her husband had a great war to plan against Greece, and he had no intention of losing. Thousands of men, some known as the Immortals, would march out within the year to subdue the Greeks in order to fulfill the promise Xerxes had made to his father, Darius, before his death.

A sigh escaped. If only her husband didn’t think six months of jovial merrymaking need be part of war planning. He was showing off the grandeur of Susa and the riches he possessed. And his power. His wealth most definitely showed that he also wielded great power. His father and ancestors had already conquered so many nations. Only Greece stuck out like a stubborn child who would not submit to Persia’s rule. Xerxes intended to make sure they were put in their place.

But that did not mean her six-year-old son needed to be party to or witness to his father’s actions or plans.

Vashti stood, still holding her son’s hand, and walked to the window of her suite of rooms. She pushed the curtain aside and pointed to the beautiful flowering gardens below and the hills beyond the rooftops. “This is a much better sight to gaze upon, my son.” She bent to look into his eyes.

His dark brow furrowed as though he did not believe her. “But there are no games or dancers. It’s just an old garden, Maman.” Gazsi pulled his hand from hers and crossed his arms over his small chest. “I want games.”

“Then we will have Omid find some appropriate games for a young boy to play. And perhaps it is time your tutors teach you all of the things that hide beneath the garden’s beauty. There is more there than your eye can see.” Vashti patted his head, then gave orders to her servant to call the boy’s tutor and gather some young boys to engage him in games.

The servant left, and Vashti settled on the couch again while Gazsi pulled out carved images and set them up in battle array as though he were the one planning the war with Greece. She looked on with a hint of dismay. No other children had been born to her these past six years. She could not bear to have this one grow up and leave here to go to battle with his father. But if he took the throne one day, war was inevitable.

Unless Amestris’s son Darius was declared king over her son. The thought troubled her. Amestris troubled her. She had always known things would change when Xerxes took the throne and married the woman his mother had intended for him. But she hadn’t expected her mother-in-law to turn so strongly against her.

“She is Persian, my son,” Atossa had said to Xerxes on a visit to his chambers, knowing full well that Vashti was nearby. “You know you cannot have that half-Persian woman’s child wearing the crown after you. You must marry a woman of royalty—of full Persian blood—once you wear the crown. Her rights will surpass this foreigner’s, and you will never need fear that woman’s son usurping the throne of your rightful heir.”

Atossa’s words still stung, though three years had passed since the coronation and Xerxes’ marriage to Amestris. It hadn’t helped that Amestris had already borne her husband two sons while Vashti could claim only one. Am I so unworthy in his eyes?

But she knew that was not the truth. Xerxes had been devoted to her for sixteen years before his coronation, and even with the addition of Amestris and many concubines, Vashti remained his favorite. To Atossa’s dismay, Vashti bore the title of queen above Amestris, something that brought a smile to Vashti’s face when she thought on it. Still, she did her best to think on other things.

The noise of the men’s revelry drifted to her from the king’s rooms and audience chamber. His private court was located at the opposite end of the palace from her privileged, secluded rooms. He had promised never to put her in a harem, and thus far had kept his word. How long she would retain the title of queen, however, was a question that often surfaced. Amestris clearly had set her sights on wearing the crown and sitting at Xerxes’ side. Vashti determined she would not let that happen. Not as long as she had her son to protect.

She glanced at him sitting on the rug, making war noises and loud battle cries. She must do more to make sure he was taught all he needed to take his father’s place and not allow her sons to wedge their way between Gazsi and Xerxes. A boy needed his father. Especially the firstborn. And she would do all in her power to protect his place as the rightful heir.

“Please make them stop!” Amestris walked from the nursery, where her two young sons wailed in protest that she refused to hold them. She’d held them long enough and needed time away from them. Ungrateful children.

She pushed past her maids, who hurried to coddle the boys, and headed to the door that led to her small private court. It was not nearly large enough in comparison to what Vashti had at her disposal. The woman had no business being queen. Atossa had assured Amestris that marrying her son would give her the status of rightful queen and Vashti would take second place once Xerxes was crowned king. But none of those promises had come to pass. Apparently Atossa did not know her son as well as she thought she did. Xerxes, despite the fact that Amestris had given him two whiny children, did nothing to place her above Vashti. Vashti, the favored one. Vashti, his first love.

She felt sick at the very thought. She paced the court, cursing its size, determined to insist that Xerxes give her bigger rooms at the first opportunity. But he was so wrapped up with the governors and rulers of the provinces that he hadn’t been to see her in months.

He’d probably been to see her, though. Amestris felt her hands clench of their own volition. How she hated that woman. She really must do something to change her situation. If only there was a way to get rid of Vashti completely. Or at the very least have her demoted from her high place. Give her a taste of the life she should be living.

How to do such a thing, though? She couldn’t just go to Xerxes and ask him. He was in love with the woman, foolish as that was. No, she needed to think. To plan. But the more she thought on it, the more hopeless any sort of change seemed. She moved back to her rooms. At least her children were quiet now. She rubbed her neck, cursing the headache that had assaulted her in the courtyard.

This was not the life she had intended. She was a princess. Royalty. She deserved to rule, and one way or another she would change her circumstances. No matter what she had to do to achieve her wishes.