Page 12 of The Guardian's Promise

Like a child, she crossed her arms and stomped her dainty sandaled foot. “I mean no disrespect, Abba. I beg of you, do not make me marry Esha.”

Caleb gaped at his daughter as if she’d grown a serpent’s head. “This is a family matter, Mira. We will discuss it later.”

She scanned the courtyard. Servants, slaves and family members stared at her. Her shoulders hunched. She swiped her hand over her cheeks, first one, then the other. It was strange how her defeated tears were somehow tied to his emotions.

“Please, Abba!”

Caleb shook his head a moment before she ran from the courtyard. The muscles in Ari’s legs urged him to run after her, if only to explain the situation. However, the knot in his belly told him she would not think him much of an improvement over the drunkard.

Dark, foreboding clouds should have cut a path over the table. It would have suited his mood. Thoughts crashed around in his head. Something else altogether squeezed tight in his chest at Mira’s distress. He’d made a vow to protect Joash, keep him safe until the appointed time when he would claim the throne of Judah. He’d also made a vow to serve Caleb, a vow from which he was now released, with the hope on Caleb’s part, that he’d marry his daughter. A marriage that could never occur.

Ari scrubbed his palm over his jaw. The entire situation reeked of fermentation. It left a bitter taste on his tongue and a bag of shekels in his belly. If he were another man...if it were another time...he would honor Caleb’s request.

“If it pleases you, adon, I would seek the Lord.”

The corners of Caleb’s mouth lifted. “Of course, Ariel.”

He left the courtyard and entered his shared quarters. Four stone walls. Lonely and cold, even in the heat, without all the servants’ mats cluttering the floor. Isolation closed in until he could no longer breathe.

A roar thundered in his ears. His heart beat out a tattoo, a tattoo that threatened to increase until he’d collapse from the erratic rhythm. He did not want to be consumed by the loneliness, eaten by the icy hardness forming in his chest. The only way to counter the coldness was to enter into the presence of God. However, the reality piercing his chest told him God may have forgotten him.

He grabbed a rolled mat and climbed the stairs to the flat portion of the roof. He peered across the horizon as the sun began to disappear, leaving indescribable hues stretching from north to south. Here the roaring in his head lessened, here he could almost breathe.

Until the hour reminded him, with a desperate longing, of all the rituals he had performed at the temple. In this place, there was no lighting of ceremonial lamps, no song echoing off the temple walls, no offerings to the Lord, no training his men in the courtyard, only the words of the prophets stamped in his mind, words he often shared after the evening meal.

He raked his fingers through his hair. There would be no words this evening. Not from him.

Releasing the cord from around his bedding, he flung it out before him. The soft fleece called to his knees as he prepared for his prayers. A flicker of light caught his attention. The distant glow faded and breathed to life in rapid succession before slowing and repeating.

He moved closer to the edge of the roof and scanned the horizon for another signal. A small, faint glow, no more than the twinkle of a barely visible star, responded. He crossed his arms over his chest. Athaliah’s soldiers remained close, but not close enough for him to ascertain the messages passed between camps.

The muscles running down his neck and across his shoulders tensed. At least Caleb had chosen to stay, which eased the burden somewhat. If his master had decided to leave for Hebron, as a servant, Ari could not defy him. Even as a free man, would Ari have done so? He owed Caleb much, yet his duty was to protect the child. A duty he could not perform while he was miles away.

“Perhaps the soldiers are, in truth, only here to keep the peace.” The closing in his throat told him otherwise. Devastation always followed in their wake.

There was no doubt the men would come back for Mira. If he signed the contracts hidden in his bedding, he’d be bound to protect her. How was he to protect her and the child at the same time?

An ache sparked in his chest over the dilemma. He was caught between donkey’s teeth. Tama would guard Joash well if needed. They’d formed a plan years ago, and she knew it well. She’d also proven herself once before. There was no question that Tama would not fail her duty to the child. But would he fail to protect Mira if the soldiers came back for her?

“Ay!” The contracts were not even signed. It was impossible for him to write his name on the parchment and yet he already considered her his responsibility, especially when he thought of the queen’s defiled men touching her.

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