Free Michal by Jill Eileen Smith Page B

settling in his gut. A groomsman approached, took the stallion, and led it back toward the stables. Guards and servants hurried to and fro in the yard, seemingly oblivious to David’s return. Voices drifted to him as he moved toward the guardhouse.
    “The princess wants the red poppies lining the path to the chuppah, not the purple anemones.”
    “That’s not what I heard . . .”
    Which princess? He should stop someone, ask what was going on, and put an end to his uneasiness. But he ducked into the guardhouse instead, moved toward his small corner of the open room, and reminded himself that he had no right to know or care. If Merab was the princess of which they spoke, he should be relieved. He had come to realize that she was too beguiling and manipulative for his taste. And if it were Michal, well, then he could stop thinking about her and get on with the important matter of preparing to one day be king. Either way, it was no concern of his.
    But he donned a fresh tunic and scrubbed the dried blood from his hands and arms just the same. He deserved an answer, if only for his own peace of mind.
    “Welcome back, Captain,” one of the guards said as he approached the outer court and stood before the palace doors. “We’ve heard glowing reports of your success.”
    “Have you now? Then I can presume the king is pleased.” He thrust both hands behind his back and assumed a relaxed pose. He nodded toward the yard beyond him, where the heady cones of incense burned and the multicolored wedding tent stood like a proud sentinel for all to see. “Tell me, Soldier, what is all this about?”
    The man blanched. “You mean you don’t know?” He averted his gaze as though he were suddenly uncomfortable, and he cursed under his breath. “The king should have sent word to you. Leave it to crazy old King Saul to do something like this behind your back.”
    The knot in his stomach cinched tighter. “What has the king done?”
    The man looked at him then. Was that pity in his eyes? An undeniable sense of anger and foreboding pressed in on him.
    “The king’s daughter Merab is being wed to Adriel of Meholath this evening.”
    David curled his hands into fists. “Barely three months ago, Saul promised her to me.” Yet the soldier’s words brought a surprising sense of relief. The bride wasn’t Michal.
    “The king felt you had refused his offer. Word came to him of Adriel’s interest in his daughter, so he sought him out, and they sealed the betrothal.”
    “I didn’t refuse the girl,” David said with clenched teeth, though a deeper part of him knew he had. “I merely pointed out that I didn’t deserve the position.” Perhaps he didn’t. Was this God’s way of showing him He had other plans?
    David forced his clamped muscles to relax and drew in a slow, easy breath. “May God bless their union.” He turned, needing to be alone, then glanced back at the man. “Thank you, Soldier.”
    “You’re welcome, Captain.”

    The relentless wedding drum reverberated in Michal’s ears, like the barking of wild dogs circling their prey. She had seen the wary look in Merab’s eyes, and for a brief moment Michal’s heart tripped with guilt. Maybe she’d done the wrong thing.
    She’s just suffering bridal jitters.
    Of course, that’s what it was. Mother had said every new bride came to her husband in fear. And Merab barely knew Adriel. Perhaps she didn’t even like him.
    At least she wasn’t marrying David. And Adriel had grown wealthy over the years. But the fact that his first wife had died in childbirth, something Michal discovered after the betrothal was secure, hadn’t helped the situation. She didn’t really wish Merab ill fortune. She just didn’t want her to have David.
    When the fanfare of the groom’s entrance drew the crowd’s attention, Michal caught the resigned sadness that flickered across her sister’s face, which intensified Michal’s guilt. She twisted the belt at her waist and slipped away