Garden of Madness, page 24
But they must speak of the future, and in that, nothing had changed.
Tia traced the white scar on his chin with her finger. “I must marry the Mede. There is no other way.”
Pedaiah’s jaw tightened and his hand clenched hers. “I would take you far from here—”
“And then what? Shadir would kill my entire family and put Amel on the throne.”
Pedaiah stood and paced. “For all his selfishness and immaturity, I would not think Amel cruel. He seems to care for you. How could he be part of such a plot?”
“I am not certain he knows all. I think it likely he is only a useful source of power for Shadir.”
Pedaiah’s words sparked a new thought, and she sat forward. “Perhaps if I spoke with Amel—perhaps we could make an agreement.”
He faced her, scowling. “What sort of agreement?”
“If he will guarantee the safety of my family, I will not marry the Mede. I will marry Amel.”
Storm clouds passed over Pedaiah’s features.
She stood and grasped his hand. “Do you see? I can save both—my family and the kingdom! I must only get around Shadir and plead with Amel.”
“It is risky, Tia. He may not keep his word.”
“No, no, I will ensure it. There are too many secrets he would not wish known. I can convince him that my plan is best. A peaceful accession to the throne by the king’s own son and safety for my family.”
He exhaled, his gaze on their clasped hands, then slowly pulled his hand from hers. “Then I wish you the best in your new marriage, Princess.”
She heard the pain in his voice, felt it in her heart. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her forehead to his chest. “It is not what I want, Pedaiah. You must know this.”
He stood unmoving for only a moment, then clutched her to himself like a man drowning. “Tell me you love only me, Tia.”
“I love only you.”
He hid his face in her hair, pressed his cheek to her head.
“It is strange how things turn out, Pedaiah.”
“Hmm?” The words were muffled, his lips were against her hair now.
“I will keep the thing I believed mattered most to me—my position here in the palace, my luxuries—even though they are not rightfully mine. And I will lose the thing that truly matters—the freedom to love you.”
He sucked in a breath and clasped her tighter. “How can I let this happen?”
“You must.” Tia pushed away, held him at arm’s length. “Pray to your God for me. That He would protect me from the dark power against me.”
“He is your God now, Tia. You may speak your prayers yourself.”
This truth was hard to take in—that she now had the power of the One God to break the evil that had long kept her bound.
As if he could read her thoughts, Pedaiah whispered, “To run in the paths He has marked brings freedom and glory.”
She smiled, a watery, tearful smile that also held good-bye. He saw it for the ending that it was and touched her face a final time.
“Go in peace, Princess. You are loved.”
She had not heard those words in seven years. They fell on her like showers across the parched plains, and she soaked them in, precious and holy.
And then she left.
Pedaiah closed the door, closed his eyes, but would never again close his heart. Not to Tia. Not even if she married Amel and became queen. He would move far from the palace, perhaps, so he did not have to see her, but he would not give up loving her, now that he had seen that it was Yahweh who had given him this love, placed him in Tia’s life, then let him see the fruit it bore.
He stood at the door, forehead pressed against the wood as if it brought him closer to Tia, even as she left him behind to do what she must.
And into the empty places of his heart flooded a profound repentance, a breaking open of the hardened soil, and he fell to his knees before the door and bowed his head to the Holy One, who had patiently waited through his arrogance.
“Forgive me, Yahweh.” He breathed through the storm of emotion, trying to gain control. He did not want to concern his family. But his hypocrisy overwhelmed him, and his unloving and judgmental spirit toward those the Holy One called to Himself left him broken and weeping.
“You have placed us here for judgment, but also out of mercy. To be a lamp stand to the nations, a light. And with my anger and hatred I have brought nothing but darkness.”
And yet in His great mercy, Tia had seen light, had understood that Yahweh was to be her Father too. Not only Father to the Jews.
Pedaiah swiped at his face with the back of his hand and lifted his head. “Of all Your people, I should have seen how You graft the nations onto the root of Jesse.” Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, Bathsheba. “My own family line—a testament to Your far-reaching grace.”
He climbed to his feet, went to a wash basin, and poured water over his hands. “Forgive me, Yahweh,” he whispered again, splashing his face. “Make me clean in Your sight. Give me a heart to love those whom You love.”
It was a mystery, still, how to live among those who hated the One God and to love them without compromise. But it was also a truth, a calling, one he would pursue until the day he was called to his fathers.
And until then, until then he must find a way to live without Tia.
CHAPTER 36
Tia left pieces of herself in Pedaiah’s chambers. There could be no looking back. Though a curious and newfound peace accompanied her from that hallowed ground.
She took the corridors more slowly this time, forming her plan as she walked. Tomorrow’s Festival would not include the marriage her mother anticipated, but there would be a marriage. And two men needed to understand their roles.
The Median prince Zagros had spent most of his time in the palace courtyards surrounded by beautiful servant girls, lavish spreads of food, and music for dancing. She searched for such a party, but as it was early afternoon and too soon to begin celebrations that would last into the night, Tia learned he was in his assigned chambers.
“I would speak to Prince Zagros,” she said to the guard at his door, one of their own.
The guard, as young as herself, bowed his head briefly but his face twitched in indecision. “I believe the prince sleeps.”
“At this hour?”
“He—he was awake most of the night, my lady.”
She scowled. The embarrassed tone of the guard gave a glimpse into her promised life in the Median palace. “He will have to wake again, I am afraid. I must speak with him.”
The guard pushed into the chamber, and she gave him only a moment before she followed.
Zagros was propped on one elbow on the bed, rubbing his hand over his beard. His glance fell on Tia and his eyes widened before a grin split his face, revealing wine-purpled teeth. He eyed the guard and jerked his head toward the door. And then they were alone.
Zagros did not rise from the bed.
“I had not expected to see you in my chamber before the marriage ceremony, Princess.” He patted the bedcovering, an invitation. “I am most pleased.”
“Get up, Zagros. We must speak.”
His grin dropped away, replaced by a wary annoyance. “Speak of what?”
“Of our marriage.”
Zagros swung his legs over the side of the bed and pushed himself to standing. With a moan he half-stumbled and lashed out to grab the bed frame for balance. When he was righted, he loomed over Tia. She had forgotten their great difference in size. He reached for her, grabbed her arm, and dragged her to his chest. Ruddy cheeks bloomed above his beard and he smelled of soured wine.
“That is exactly the topic I would address.” The words were slurred, soft pebbles in his mouth.
She could not show fear, despite the danger. She yanked her arm from his grip. “You have come on a fool’s errand, Zagros. Been brought here through falsity and deception.”
His eyes sparked, awake and alert at last. “Who has been false?”
“Your cousin. My mother, the queen. She has led you to believe this marriage would be a treaty between Media and Babylon.” Tia lifted her chin, a proud defense against the humiliating words. “But I am no child of Babylon.”
Zagros shook his head, as though to disagree would be to negate the truth. “You are the king’s daughter.”
“I am not.”
She let the words penetrate his drink-induced stupor. “My mother conceived me outside her marriage to the king.”
He set his jaw and narrowed his eyes. “I do not care. The people believe—”
“If you and she force me into this marriage, I will make the truth known to all of Babylon, and word will certainly be carried to Media. You will be painted as a fool—coming all this way, laying out so much expense, all for the daughter of an unfaithful wife.”
Zagros’s eyes went dark. “Then who is your father?”
The question caused a strange, convulsing stricture in her chest.
I do not know.
She had been so fractured by the truth that the man she loved was not her father, she had given little thought to whose daughter she was. She fought to loosen the tightness around her heart.
“He is of no consequence. What matters now is that you and I come to an agreement.”
He wobbled a bit, then sank to the bedding, an odd expression crossing his face. Fear?
Tia inhaled, ready to explain her hastily conceived plan. “You will be paid well. You must leave this night, before tomorrow’s festival activities begin. You will leave word that you found the king’s daughter to be too—strong-willed—for your liking and did not believe she would make a proper Median queen. In this we both save face, and the people know enough of me to believe it truth.”
She did not add that Amytis would also believe the lie and would berate her for it until her dying day.
“No one must know the truth, Zagros. Nor that you are leaving tonight. Especially not my mother.”
It was there again, that look of desperation.
“Princess”—he broke off and sneered, then continued—“how can I return to my country with no bride? My father—”
He raked a hand through his hair, stood, and paced beside her.
He feared his father. Feared disappointing, failing him, as she did her mother. In this, they were kindred. For all his monstrous behavior, humanity lurked beneath the surface.
She held out a palm. “You will bring back treasures of Babylon. Pieces taken from the grandest temples of our enemies.”
In truth, this part of her plan Tia had not yet perfected, but there would be time.
Zagros turned on her and she took a step backward. Would he attack her? Threaten violence if she did not go through with the marriage?
He seized her arms and she tensed, ready to fight.
But his voice was pleading, a syrupy sweetness. “Beautiful Tiamat, do not do this. We can continue this lie. No one must know. I will give you everything you desire in Media.”
“Everything I desire, Zagros, is in Babylon.”
Perhaps it was the finality of her tone, perhaps the set of her jaw, but he seemed to sense his defeat. He thrust her from him, growling curses, and stomped to the window.
Tia lingered. Was there something she could say to ensure his cooperation, his silence?
He shot a murderous look over his shoulder. “Go.”
She opened her mouth, held out a hand.
“Go!” Zagros grabbed a nearby vase and heaved it at her head.
She ducked, and the vase smashed against the floor.
With a last worried huff of breath toward Zagros, she left him to his anger.
One task accomplished.
But the preparations would not be complete until she had assured herself of Amel’s cooperation as well.
And her objective would be trickier with Amel, for he could not simply be threatened or bribed to play his part.
It took until evening to locate him. The palace staff seemed to have multiplied in anticipation of tomorrow’s double celebration. Her questions were treated with impatience, and her searching yielded only bustling slaves and overflowing wagons delivering colorful vegetables, freshly slaughtered meat, even bolts of exotic fabrics. She skirted merchants and servants, threading through courtyards and public chambers. She peeked into the Hall of Magi, but it was empty.
Finally, word came to her that Amel was performing duties in the Temple of Ishtar.
At last.
Without thought of escort, or her mother’s disapproval, Tia took to the city streets and pushed through crowds along the Processional Way, reaching the main temple on the Street of Ishtar by the time darkness draped the city.
Temple prostitutes and male worshippers clogged the temple’s grassy outer courtyard. She ignored the activity, her eyes set on the soft glow of the temple antechamber and the larger hall beyond where Ishtar’s representative figure awaited.
Tia’s steps slowed, arrested by new thoughts.
My first time in a temple since knowing the truth. That if Ishtar existed, she was a demon, not a goddess, and she sought to enslave.
Tia whispered an incoherent prayer to the One God. Protection. Wisdom. Did He hear the prayers of a Babylonian woman when she had done nothing yet for Him?
The singsong of the priestesses drew her into the temple’s depths, where the overwhelming scent of incense immediately watered her eyes, thickened her throat, and shallowed her breath.
Amel, where are you?
It was more than incense that oppressed her. The familiar heaviness reminded her she had been freed.
She found him attending the goddess and her nightly ritual meal. Tia watched his narrow frame, his back to her, as he prayed over the lavish feast spread before the golden statue, then backed away and drew the curtains for her privacy. These were priests’ functions, yet as a novice mage, he must learn various religious duties.
“Amel.” Tia spoke quietly, but still he startled. But then his smile seemed genuine and strengthened her confidence.
“Tia.” His hands were outstretched.
She went to him, her stomach warring with her heart. How many conflicting emotions had she felt for this man over these few weeks? Attraction, then revulsion at learning he was her brother. And today, now that they were no longer siblings?
Pedaiah would not be pleased to see my heart.
It shamed her, her fascination with the future king. She wished to be rid of it and voiced another broken prayer in her mind, for clarity, focus.
“Can we speak alone, Amel?”
He blinked twice, a tiny flicker of concern creasing his brow. “Of course.” He glanced at the side walls of the temple. “Here.” He gestured toward a chamber door.
Inside the smallish room no torch had been lit, and only the light from the main chamber illuminated his features. It was enough to trace his beauty, so she turned away to speak.
“What is it, Tia? What is wrong?”
“Are you aware of Shadir’s plan for you, Amel? For us?”
A long silence met her question. Then, “We are to be married.”
It was time for plain speaking. “Tomorrow. He will announce the truth of both our fathers to the kingdom, the Median prince will leave in humiliation, and Shadir will reveal the king’s . . . condition. Then he will put the crown on your head and marry us to appease the people.”
Amel brushed her arm with his fingertips. “I have waited eagerly for the day.”
“For the day of my family’s annihilation.”
“Why would your family—?”
She faced him, skin flushing. “Do not be foolish, Amel. Shadir cannot afford any other claims to the throne once the people know the truth about the king. My brothers-in-law, my nephews. Even my sisters, who could yet bear more grandchildren for the king. Every one of them will be dead by the end of the festival.”
Tia watched his eyes. So much depended on her accurate assessment of this man. Was he merely Shadir’s unwitting tool? Or was he also greedy for the blood of royals? Could she convince him of her plan, then trust him to keep his word?
Those dark eyes with their thick lashes that beguiled her when they first met deepened with sympathy and some small outrage.
“I will not allow it!”
She searched his face for a telltale shift—too much blinking, perhaps a slant of the eyes or a nervous tic—but saw sincerity.
“You must promise me, Amel.” Tia gripped his hands and spoke with all the force she could bring to bear. “I swear to you, if my family is not kept safe, I will join them in the underworld before we reach our marriage bed.”
Surprise leapt across his features.
This threat was her only bargaining piece. She counted on Amel’s affection, or at least his infatuation. Would he protect her family’s lives to gain her as his wife?
“You must be your own king. Not Shadir’s mouthpiece. You must rule Babylon from your own wisdom and courage, and not be swayed by the evil that Shadir would have you commit.”
He straightened, as though the crown were being placed on his brow this very moment, then returned her hand clasp. His mouth tightened with unusual gravity and he nodded slowly. Regally.
“You have my word. From baby to gray-haired, not one of your family will be harmed.”
This declaration was the best she could extract. There were no guarantees.
He released her hands, but only to place his own on each side of her head. His thumbs caressed her cheeks. “I will make you happy, Tia. You shall see.” He brushed his lips against hers, the whisper of a promise.
Tia remembered her thoughts when they met. She was an unattainable princess and he a forbidden mage. Would she have smiled that first night to know that one day they would marry?
Perhaps. But as she escaped the Temple of Ishtar, through the courtyard of prostitutes, her heart thudded with a suggestion she refused to entertain.
Have I sold myself to purchase an empty promise?
CHAPTER 37
There you are at last!”
Her mother’s fury met Tia at the top of the palace steps under the entry arch.
