Galit bounded over to me with an impish grin much faster than I expected. I should never have doubted her skills of subterfuge. I’d heard Galit spin more than one tale and knew her to be a true storyteller.
“What did you say to the head cook?”
“That your mistress desires a certain type of sweet dish that you are not familiar with and that I need to go with you so she can describe it in detail.”
How she came up with such an excuse so quickly I could not imagine, but I was certainly glad for it. Once again, my eye was caught by the kitchen boy and the purple mark on his cheek.
“What happened to him?” I asked, gesturing with a subtle tick of my chin toward where he was laying a new fire on a cold hearth.
Her brows arched high. “Your Demon Eyes pitted him against his young slave in the fighting ring.”
“What?” I gasped as we entered through the back door into the palace.
“Indeed. Apparently, the poor boy lost badly to the other child, even though Jarepe is older and taller.”
I could not imagine why Lukio would do such a thing, especially when he’d seemed so protective of Zevi. I could not see him willingly putting any child in danger. There had to be an explanation. At least I knew I would see Zevi tomorrow and could make certain he was all right.
I led Galit down the corridor and into the space between two fat columns, a shadowy place I’d noticed on my way here from the garden.
“Talk quickly,” said Galit, darting her eyes down the corridor. “And quietly. Anyone could come by.”
“We’ve found a way to get my baby and me out of the place, but we need your help.”
I paused, waiting for her questions.
“And?” she pressed.
“So, you will help?”
“Of course,” she replied, as if offended I would even question it. “You are my friend. I’d do anything to help you and your little one.”
I held back my yelp of glee and the effusive gratitude that demanded to be lavished upon her. But, for the sake of time and stealth, I reached into my belt and pulled out the little linen-wrapped packet Avel had given me.
“The first morning of the festival, at the ninth hour, you will be summoned by a guard to take a basket of food and drink to Tela’s room. The nursemaid will be there, alone, since the baby naps during this time and Tela will not want a fussy child with her during the events. You’ll offer the nurse a tea with these ingredients.” I handed her the packet. “It will render her senseless within only a short time. You’ll carefully put the baby in the basket, making certain she remains asleep.”
“How will I get out without the guards seeing me?”
“There will only be one in that area of the palace, and he’s been paid to not see you. But at the same time, the stables will be set on fire, to create chaos and draw any additional guards away. You’ll take the baby down to the garden shed and hand it to a woman in a yellow-and-blue headscarf, who will bring her through the city gates. Then you’ll run back to the kitchen and act as though nothing has happened.”
Galit’s eyes grew wider and wider as I described the scheme. “How will you get away?”
“I’ll feign sun sickness and ask Mariada to allow me a few moments in the shade so I can slip away to a meeting point.”
“And who is the woman?”
“I don’t know, only that she’s a friend.”
“You trust this plan? You’ll put your child’s life in a stranger’s hands because your old friend told you to?”
I held my breath, considering her words, but then nodded. “I do. If there’s anyone I trust, it’s him.”
“Then I will do as you ask,” she said, then her smile turned rueful. “But I will miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too.” I reached out to squeeze her hand. “You have been the best of friends. I need to go back up to Mariada’s room now. She’ll wonder what happened to me.”
“Go on, then. I’ll take good care of your little one. I promise.” She returned my hand squeeze and turned away.
“Oh, Galit?”
She paused, looking over her shoulder.
“If the rest of you get out of here—and I pray you do—have pity on poor Avel and marry him, will you? He practically floats on air when I mention your name.”
She laughed softly, her dark eyes glimmering. “Perhaps I shall. And you live a long and beautiful life with that daughter of yours.”
She left me to dream about just that, and of the sound of Aaliyah and Asher calling my name when I returned to Kiryat-Yearim. But when one of Amunet’s maids padded by, I broke from my stupor and slipped out of the shadows, then hurried all the way back to my mistress’s chamber.
I was in the middle of re-braiding Mariada’s hair before bed when they came for me.
Four guards burst into her room, knives brandished but their faces blank of emotion. Mariada jolted to her feet, her waist-length curls tangled in a half-finished plait.
“What is the meaning of this?” she squawked.
“I apologize for the intrusion, my lady, but your maid is to come with us,” said one of the guards.
My young mistress stretched to her full height, her tone shifting into an imperious demand worthy of a king’s daughter. “For what reason? She’s done nothing!”
Amunet strolled into the room, Tela in her wake, and I felt all my blood drain into my feet.
“She’s under arrest for a plot to kill a nursemaid and steal Tela’s child,” said the king’s first wife.
“That’s ridiculous,” said Mariada, a slight quaver in her voice. “She would do no such thing.”
Amunet put out her hand, a small linen packet in her palm. “No? Then why did she deliver these deadly herbs to one of her accomplices in the kitchen earlier today?”
Mariada blanched and looked at me, shock and confusion swimming in her ocean-blue eyes. “Shoshana?” she choked out on a whisper.
But I had no response for my bewildered mistress, whose kindness I’d willfully betrayed, not when everything had come crashing down and it was obvious that not only were Galit and the others in peril, but that I’d lost my one and only chance to rescue my child.
I would never hold her. Never kiss her face. Never hear her call me Ima. Never see Aaliyah and Asher again.
When the guards stepped forward to bind my hands, I went without a struggle. There was no use fighting the inevitable.
Twenty-Seven
Lukio
It felt strange to not have Zevi and Igo with me today as I walked through the palace on my way to find Mariada. No toenails clicking on the stone next to me or little-boy questions in my ears. I’d become accustomed to their constant presence at my side over these past weeks, but after what Nicaro had done, I refused to bring Zevi back here. I did not trust the king of Ashdod.
Although he’d not spoken to me all the way back to the house after the fight, Zevi had listened to my explanations about why I had to make him fight the kitchen boy, with his small jaw set and belligerence in his dark brown eyes.
“How does letting someone beat on me make me safer?” he’d asked.
I’d sighed, knowing that my back was in a corner. I had to tell him a small measure of truth in order to regain what I’d lost of his precious trust.
“We have a plan to get you back home,” I’d said. “Along with my friend and her child. But it will only work if no one suspects my true reason for bringing you to my house in the first place.”
His eyes narrowed. “And what is that?”
“Because I could not bear to see you hurt, Zevi. You remind me of my . . . someone I used to know. And”—I let a smile curve my lips—“a little bit of myself when I was your age.”
He’d tilted his chin, skepticism written on his face. “Because I fought that soldier?”
I laughed softly. “Yes. But also because I, like you, had a hard time trusting people who offered help. And I want you to know that the two girls you tried to save that day have been resc
ued.”
His brows flew high. “They were?”
“Yes. They did not remain with the man who purchased them for even a night.”
“I am glad. I did not know those girls, but it made me so angry that they were frightened.”
“You did well, Zevi. As someone once told me, my hands were made for defending those who cannot defend themselves.” Although the rest of the night Risi and I escaped Mataro’s home was a hazy blur, the words Azuvah spoke to me before I crawled out the window were still clear in my mind. “And I believe yours are as well.”
He’d studied my face for a long while, his lips pressed together and his gaze penetrating.
“I don’t have one,” he’d said, his eyes dropping.
“What don’t you have?”
“A home. Everyone I know is dead or gone.”
Gut twisting, I’d swallowed hard, wondering if I was being hasty in sending him away, but especially after the strong emotions I’d felt when he was out there fighting, I wanted him to be safe. I had to let him go. Just like Shoshana.
“When I was a little younger than you are now, some people took me in. They cared for me, even though I was their enemy.”
His eyes flared at my admission. “Why would they do that?”
I’d taken in a deep breath, contemplating for only a moment before the answer came to me in the form of my sister’s voice, when I’d asked her the same question during one of my belligerent rants against Elazar’s family.
“Yahweh sent us to them, Natan,” she’d said. “And Elazar and Yoela believe it is their duty to love others as they love themselves, like Mosheh told them to do. And what better way to show love to two orphans like us than to adopt us into their family so we wouldn’t be alone anymore.”
“Because their kindness and generosity have no limits. And I am sending you to them, because I know they will embrace you the way they did me.”
“But if they were so kind to you, why are you here?” he’d asked, cocking his chin to the side like Igo did from time to time.
“Because I was a fool, Zevi. Don’t be a fool like me. Let them love you.”
His nod was solemn, and I prayed he would remember this conversation when he got to Kiryat-Yearim. At least I knew Shoshana would take good care of him. Knowing my Tesi, she would enfold him into her life with ease, the same way she’d done to me when I was a wounded and confused boy.
After inquiring of one of the guards which chamber was Mariada’s, I climbed the stairs to the second floor. I’d been too distracted by Shoshana and our conversation yesterday to speak to her about the festival, but for our plans to work, it was imperative that Mariada attend my first fight tomorrow morning. I figured the best way to ensure her presence would be to invite her personally and perhaps use a bit of my persuasive charm to flatter her into a promise that she would attend—with her maid.
Wondering whether I could successfully act as though Shoshana meant nothing to me while I toyed with her mistress’s affections right in front of her, I knocked on the door. But the young girl who opened it a handspan to peer out did not have beautiful hazel eyes and myriad freckles at all; instead, she had dark brown eyes that went as wide as moons and a jaw that unhinged at the sight of me. Had Mariada taken on a second maid? I’d never thought of her as the type of preening royal who demanded a bevy of girls to tend to her every whim, but perhaps I was wrong.
Regardless, the girl seemed so astounded by my presence that she did nothing but stare at me wordlessly until Mariada spoke from somewhere inside the room.
“Who is it, Seko?” she asked, but there was an odd, pinched quality in her tone that I’d never heard from her before. “I am not up for seeing anyone.”
The maid continued to gape at me with fluttering lashes but somehow choked out an answer. “It’s . . . it’s Demon Eyes . . . I mean . . . your betrothed, mistress.”
Mariada responded with a muffled groan. “Tell him that I cannot—” she began, but I pressed the door open and pushed past the astounded maid, hoping her mistress was not in a state of undress.
I’d expected Mariada to be preparing for the day or perhaps breaking her fast, not still abed with the bedclothes pulled up around her head like a child hiding from the dark. And where was Shoshana?
“Mariada,” I said, “I am sorry to come here like this, but I need to speak with you.”
She gasped and pulled herself deeper into the blankets, until only the mess of her black curls could be seen. “Please,” she said, her words muffled. “Just go. This is not the time.”
“Are you ill?”
Still not emerging from her fortress of linens, she waved a hand in my direction. “I’m fine. I’ll speak with you tomorrow.”
Although I knew little of this young woman, she’d never come across to me as overly emotional, but her words were tinged with an edge of hysteria, and there were tears in her voice.
“What is wrong? Has someone hurt you?”
She shook her head but did not respond.
“What can I do to help? Shall I call for your usual maid?”
She sat up, her black hair a tangled nest and her eyes red and swollen. “They took her!”
A chill of foreboding swept over my skin and my voice went low. “What do you mean? They took who?”
She threw her arms wide. “Shoshana. My maid. They came last night and took her away.”
My head went foggy and my eyes blurred for a moment as I barely restrained a snarl. “Who took her? Where is she?”
“Amunet came in here and accused her of something awful. And I don’t know how to help her!” She dropped her face in her hands and let out a sob. “No one has ever been so kind to me, even my own mother.”
My stomach had turned to stone the moment she mentioned the queen. Acid scorched my throat as I thought back to my spat with Mataro in the street. He’d said he had friends in the palace, friends who could do me harm.
A flash of memory flickered to life from the gathering where I’d given Shoshana the very first shell. I’d seen Mataro exchange a silent greeting across the room with Amunet, even if she’d seemed to rebuff him at the time. And he’d somehow known about Shoshana having given birth. Had his boasted connection been none other than Nicaro’s first wife?
I swallowed down the bile that surged upward as I considered all the implications. If Mataro told Amunet about what he saw between me and Shoshana after the funeral, then who was to say he’d not also told her about my history with the Hebrews? But even if he’d seen my longing for Mariada’s maid and shared it with the queen, what possible justification would that be to arrest her? To most in Ashdod, my future wife’s slave would soon be mine to use as I willed.
“Tell me what happened,” I said through gritted teeth. “What is she accused of?”
Mariada must have heard the barely leashed fury in my voice because she peered up at me in tearful bewilderment. “Amunet and Tela came in last night with some guards, accusing her of a murder plot and planning to steal the baby. They tied her hands and marched her away. But Shoshana would never murder someone. I know her. She wouldn’t, even if she wanted her—” She stopped, her glistening blue eyes wide as she realized that she’d almost revealed too much. If only she knew . . .
I dug my hands into my hair as the full weight of her revelation slammed into me, each breath painful as I began to pace the floor. “This is my fault,” I muttered to myself. “All my fault.”
I’d thought our plan so well coordinated, so perfect, and yet Shoshana was suffering for my arrogance. I’d practically dared Mataro to make good on his threats.
I had to find her. Had to make her safe. If Nicaro hurt her, I would burn this city to the ground.
“Why would it be your fault?” said Mariada. “You don’t even know her.”
“You don’t understand,” I mumbled as I continued my pacing, my mind racing with half-formed ideas of how to undo all of this.
“If my father does to her what he did to that othe
r girl . . .” she said, on a choked sob.
“No!” I shouted, images of blood dripping onto an altar slamming into me. “I won’t let that happen to her!”
She blinked up at me, her mouth gaping open for a few long, silent moments as she took in whatever wrecked expression was on my face.
Then, without looking away from me, she spoke. “Seko,” she said softly, “please leave us. Wait in the women’s courtyard. I’ll send word when I’m ready for you to dress my hair for the day.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw the young maid flee, her face pale and no doubt carrying tales of a livid Demon Eyes screaming at her mistress.
“Lukio,” said Mariada, her voice gentle and tentative, “why are you so upset about my maid’s arrest?”
The tears on her cheeks made it clear that she was terrified for Shoshana as well, and she’d certainly come to her defense while explaining the arrest. But could I trust her with any part of the truth? She was Nicaro’s daughter. She could ruin everything with one word. And yet the blue eyes that matched her father’s were shot through with red from what looked to be a night of crying on her bed, and her face was deathly pale.
I closed my eyes, squeezed them tight, and whispered a plea for wisdom to the God my sister and Shoshana said was the One Who Hears. My next breath came steadier as I made my decision. I had to tell the truth and take a chance that she truly cared for Shoshana. However, she spoke before I could do so.
“It was you. You are the boy.”
My eyes flew open. “What?”
“She told me that she’d loved a boy in her youth. And that he’d been lost to her. It was you, wasn’t it?” She gasped, a hand clapping to her mouth. “And the shells! That was you too. You’ve been meeting secretly.”
I let out a shuddering sigh as I collected my thoughts.
“It was,” she rasped, my silence having spoken for me. “Did you betroth yourself to me to get close to her?”
Between the Wild Branches Page 25
