The violet silk draping from my head down my back encompasses my arms and hides my growing stomach. I stare uneasily out the window wondering, waiting, and hoping that the rumors my ladies overheard while they were in the marketplace are true.
The King has summoned Uriah home. When I first heard the report from my ladies I was filled with sheer terror mingled with longing. I miss him so much. For months at a time I have thought of nothing but him. Every night I worried over his safety and wondered if he was still alive.
What is the King planning? Why have Uriah come home when I am pregnant with the King's child? This is very risky indeed. My condition is not yet noticeable, but Uriah has been away for quite some time. Perhaps he would notice--I am, after all, the desire of his eyes, as he has told me many times before.
He sees me like no one else ever has. I contemplate the King's motives. If Uriah discovers me the King will either do one of two things: claim the child as his and face the wrath of the people, or deny me and feed me to the wolves.
It has been days since the rumors started spreading about Uriah's return. He should arrive today. Despite the risks or the consequences that his return might have on me I cannot wait to see him. I have missed him more than words can express.
I want his arms around me. I want his voice to offer me comfort. I need his love to be my armor. To shield me from everything that is happening. I crave his warm lips.
I want to run my fingers through his hair and sweep his tendrils out of his eyes like I always do. When I am with him nothing else matters. I decide to put my heartbreak and shame aside just for him. I owe him that much.
I storm past the guards and clip around the corner. They don't try to stop me. I don't blame them. I must look horrifying. The anger pulsing through my face radiates from my cheeks as it carves deep crevices in my forehead.I am beyond furious. I'm not exactly sure what I will do once I see him. I hadn't planned that far ahead. As soon as I heard what he had done I hastened toward the palace, leaving any reason at home.
The faces of these men that I recognize so well blur as my eyes begin to sting. Tears stream down my cheeks, unleashing a torrent of emotions that I cannot hold back. These soldiers who served with my father and with Uriah in the King's elite group of warriors called the Thirty have ripped out my heart with three words."Uriah is dead."
"How can you do this?!"His eyes flicker up to mine, the corners of his lips pulled into a crooked frown. This small semblance of remorse gives me hope. He strides towards me and I begin to feel small. His lean figure towers over me, his shadow engulfing mine.
As I slowly sip from my goblet of wine, I avoid the glaring eyes burning holes through my skin. King David seems to be unaware of the blazing stares cast my way. He seems oblivious to the shame and disgrace he has publically shown his first wife Michal, by having me sit at his right side. The air is rife with tension.If looks could kill, I would be drowning in a pool of blood at Michal's feet. Her eyes are not the only pair that I intentionally avoid, though. My grandfather sits at the en
I'm drowning in my own reflection, slipping into the void beyond the glass. The red stain on my lips brings out the color in my eyes. The powder on my face darkens the pearl-embellished braids of my hair.I don't even recognize myself. Martha strings another pearl into one of my curls, then takes a step back to admire her work.
Four weeks later...The doors of my chambers creak open. I spin on my heels to find a feeble elderly woman slowly making her way towards me when shaky steps. She carries something within the clutch of her weathered hands. I glide towards her effortlessly, wishing to spare her the trouble of having to cross the distance between us.
The viper locks eyes with me, rearing its head to strike. His tongue slips in and out of his mouth as he releases a low his. I stumble hastily out of bed, plunging gracelessly to the floor."Guards! Help! Help!"My voice bounces off these solid wal
"Stop. I don't want any of this written down," The King snaps at the scribe.His beady eyes widen and he fumbles with his quill. Accidentally, he splatters his bottle of ink onto the harsh throne room floor. When he stoops to clean the oozing black liquid, seeping into the tile cracks, he releases a quiet murmur from his crusted lips.
The small hum of his tender breathing vibrates against my chest. I watch him as he sleeps soundly nestled against my bare skin. I ignore the whispering around me, the covered mouths, and pointed stares. He's all that matters to me."Bathsheba."I l
My skin feels as though it is being pierced by a thousand frigid needles. I hungrily gasp for air. My tightened lungs expand despite the pain. My eyes flutter around as I try to focus on the blurry objects. I hear a voice. I try to catch onto it, searching through the blurry shapes around me.My eyes droop closed, and exhaustion tries to pull me back into the creeping darkness. It tries to swallow my vision whole again, but a deep agonizing pang sharpens my senses. I lurch forward, disoriented a
In the last few days, I have been an anxious mess. I have barely slept or eaten. I have refused visitors and stayed to myself within my chambers. The truth is, I can't get him out of my mind. There was something in his eyes that his mouth dared not utter. He tried to conceal it, but I caught a glimpse of it.What was it he wanted to tell me before he slipped away in the night? I wonder if I will ever see him again. He feels like the only link I have left of Uriah. After the encounter I had with my grandfather, I keep ana
An internal battle wages inside of me. Do I dare trust the words of a complete stranger over my most beloved grandfather? Even if I were to take the risk and try to unravel the mystery Zev planted in my mind, what would I even look for? His warning was vague and cryptic. His eyes burned with knowledge and secrets that lie within. The urge to unravel those secrets pulses through my veins. I need to know.When the sun rises over Jerusalem, I rise with it. I slip out into the hall long before my at
I am exhausted by the time I return to my chambers. The atmosphere inside is stale and chilled. There has been no fire to cleanse the air and keep the cold at bay. A shiver creeps down my spine. My natural inclination is to cross the threshold and dive under the silky covers of my bed. I hesitate when I reach the foot of my bed. Memories come rushing back to me.I run the tips of my fingers along the smooth surface of my covers. The fear that coursed through my veins that fateful night begins to
I strain my hearing, edging my ear forward, to decipher any of the guard's murmurings. They lead me through the corridor, failing to listen, or answer my questions. I huff in frustration wondering why I am being summoned to the throne room without an explanation. Although, I am glad at the chance to be free from the King's unbearable chambers.They abruptly freed me from my state of boredom and isolation without the smallest clue as to why. All they said to ease my curiosity was, "The King has s
Peering past the smooth marble column, I catch sight of a sculpted warrior ripping through the corridor as if his heels were on fire. Dirt, scars, and sweat cloak his olive-toned skin. I instinctively tug the light silky fabric, draping over my head, closer against my cheek.I cannot risk being recognized. If I am I will be escorted back to the King's chambers. The air in there is stifling. Each breath has become forced and heavy. The walls seem to be closing in on me more and more each day. At
Ever since the attempt on my life I have been sheltered by the King in his own chambers. My only taste of freedom is when I glimpse a view past these palace walls into the heart of Jerusalem herself. This window has been a solace to me these days.When the King is here I feel suffocated by his presence. When he is gone I am consumed by loneliness. I have yet to decide which of the two is a more bitter poison.
"Stop. I don't want any of this written down," The King snaps at the scribe.His beady eyes widen and he fumbles with his quill. Accidentally, he splatters his bottle of ink onto the harsh throne room floor. When he stoops to clean the oozing black liquid, seeping into the tile cracks, he releases a quiet murmur from his crusted lips.