Free Crown in the Stars by Kacy Barnett-Gramckow Page B

And my own husband is one of those snakes .
“Forgive me,” the girl had said to Zeva’ah.
But do I forgive you? Achlai wondered silently. Certainly I must; it’s not your fault that my Nimr-Rada was killed. And it wasn’t your mother’s fault, though she longed for his death. Still, the pain is there if I consider it too much. Forgive me, Most High .

In the merchant Tso’bebaw’s uncomfortably crowded home, Mithqah slumped down before the flickering hearth, refusing to touch her food. Tso’bebaw’s wife, Peletah, alternately fretted and wept, trying to console the grieving Mithqah. “I’m sure they won’t hurt her; she hasn’t committed a crime.”
Mithqah lifted her head. “But how can I leave her here? She’d never leave me if I were in trouble.”
“She begged us to warn our family not to come—and we must do so,” Yelahlah murmured, caressing the now-clean Rakal, asleep beside her. “I’m sure that if Shoshannah can escape, she will. Also, it will be easier for her to escape if she doesn’t have to worry that you’re here waiting for her.”
“But she’s already said that she doesn’t want to go out onto the steppes alone,” Mithqah whispered, thinking aloud. “Perhaps I could bring help to her…”
“You cannot bring her dear mother here,” Peletah said, agitated.
Brisk tapping sounded at the door. Mithqah looked up, praying that it would be Shoshannah, freed and eager to return home.
Instead, a tiny, engaging woman with bright dark eyesentered the home, led by the now-silent young craftsman who had been with Tso’bebaw and Peletah in the marketplace that morning.
Mithqah slumped unhappily again. But Peletah sighed as if thankful. The newcomer immediately crossed over to the hearth to kneel beside Peletah.
“Tell me everything,” she said, mournful.
After hearing Peletah’s emotional, hand-fluttering explanation of the day’s events, the tiny, bright-eyed woman sighed and said to Yelahlah and Mithqah, “Your Shoshannah has more friends than you realize, my daughters. And if you do bring or send anyone to free her, then send them to me first—I am Meherah, wife of Yabal the potter. My son Lawkham was the Lady Keren’s guardsman, with my adoptive son, Zehker. They both loved her, and who could blame them? But tell me, do you have news of my Zehker? I’ve heard nothing of him since he took our Lady Keren from the Great City.”
“Zehker?” Mithqah stared at Meherah, confused. Then she realized aloud, “He’s Zekaryah… tall and severe and the best in our tribe with horses and weapons.”
“That must be my Zehker,” Meherah sighed, clasping her hands together, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “So he is well?”
“He married I’ma-Keren,” Yelahlah breathed, delighted. “Shoshannah is his daughter. I was scared of him as a child—but he’s a good man. I’ma-Keren loves him.”
Meherah beamed at her. “I hoped you could tell me something about him! I knew it wasn’t safe for him to come here or to send word after turning against the Great King, but… Oh, how my Lawkham would laugh to hear this news!”
“But where is your Lawkham now?” Mithqah asked.She regretted the words at once; Peletah dabbed at her eyes, while Meherah’s smile faded.
“You don’t know… The Great King killed my dear Lawkham when he accidentally touched our Lady Keren.”
“Your son was the young man she still grieves for?” Mithqah asked, horrified. “I’ma-Keren told Shoshannah his story.”
“Yes,” Meherah said gently. “The Lady Keren hasn’t forgotten him; I am glad. Others remember his death here, and they’ve blamed her. But it was that Nimr-Rada; he threw the spear that killed my Lawkham! Our Lady Keren—and my Zehker—retrieved his body from the river for my sake. They risked their lives to honor him, I will always be grateful for that.” Her eyes brightened again. “So Shoshannah is the daughter of my Zehker and his Keren? Then she’s my granddaughter! We will