Vashti leaned back into the shadows, making sure her cloak covered her completely. Since fleeing for her life, she had perfected the art of invisibility, of wandering through towns and countrysides without calling attention to herself. Just another nameless woman. Tonight she was on more dangerous ground: she had returned to the palace itself, where the guards were more numerous and more vigilant, and might even recognize her.
She had to come. She had made a vow that awful night that, if she survived, she would look out for her successor, she would use the knowledge she had amassed during her ten years as queen to try and help the next victim. So here she was, risking her freedom for Esther.
The poor silly girl! She’d no idea what she was getting into. And that cousin of hers – what was he thinking – insulting Haman like that! The king’s prime minister was not a man to be disrespected, especially in public. Haman took himself very seriously and would never forget or forgive any trace of insult.
Vashti waited patiently until the last servants and guards had withdrawn, then slipped into the queen’s chambers, into the room that had once been hers. Shaking herself to quell the memories, the rage, she looked down at the lovely young queen. Covering Esther’s mouth to keep any startled cry from escaping, Vashti gently shook the younger woman’s shoulder.
Esther’s eyes opened so quickly Vashti thought she might have been feigning sleep. Perhaps the young queen was no...
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