In the Shadow of Jezebel by Mesu Andrews Read Free Book Online Page B

on his right. Gevirah Jizebaal remained the spokesperson in King Ram’s court and kept her eyes firmly fixed on Sheba. “We accept the gracious gift and will address political concerns momentarily. First, let me make you more comfortable.” Turning to the steward, she said, “Bring two couches, and dismiss everyone except the seventy princes of Ahab and their guardians.”
    The room burst into activity, servants scurrying, crowd stirring, some leaving, while members of Ahab’s clan vied for the best view of their Judean cousins. Sheba looked to Ima Thaliah for etiquette and noted her hands folded in front, head in a reverent bow. Sheba followed her example, keeping a watchful eye should the occasion call for a quick revision.
    The servants delivered the couches. Ima Thaliah took her place on the first, but as Hazi directed Sheba toward the second, Gevirah Jizebaal announced, “The couches are for Ahab’s family only, young woman.”
    The audience chamber fell silent, and Sheba gasped, glancing first at Ima and then at the Gevirah. How could this woman publicly flaunt the fact that she wasn’t Athaliah’s blood? Humiliated, she moved behind the couch and offered the seat to Hazi. He furtively reached back, offering his hand for comfort. Mattan stood behind Ima.
    Jizebaal seemed unwilling to let the matter die. “You’re not really my Thali’s daughter, are you? You’re one of Jehoram’s children from a Judean wife, and my Thali raised you as her own when your ima died. Isn’t that correct . . . what is your name—Beersheba, is it?”
    “No. I mean, yes. I mean . . .” Angry tears stung Sheba’s eyes, and she turned to Ima Thaliah for help—direction of any kind. Ima glared over her shoulder, offering nothing but warning. Sheba must face Gevirah alone. No tears. Ima Thaliah detests tears.
    Breathing deeply, she calmed herself and lifted her chin. “You are correct, Gevirah Jizebaal. I am the daughter of King Jehoram, adopted by Queen Athaliah.” Her voice grew stronger as she spoke. “And my name is Princess Jehosheba.”
    A slight grin creased King Ram’s lips. He leaned over and whispered something in the Gevirah’s ear—who ignored him and Sheba. Jizebaal redirected her attention to Ima Thaliah. “Since only Ahab’s princes remain in the gallery”—she motioned for the guards to close the doors, locking out any stragglers—“we will continue our political discussion. Go ahead, my son. As king of Israel, you should lead the discussion.”
    “Why, thank you, Ima.” Clearly amused, King Ram left his throne, causing his bodyguard to scurry from the dais and Ima Thaliah and Hazi to spring off their couches in a respectful bow. The king grasped Ima Thaliah’s shoulders, drawing her into an embrace. “Shalom, Thali. It’s good to see you.”
    Ima lingered in her brother’s hug, and a puddle of tears formed under her lashes. Ima’s crying? Sheba tried to remember if she’d ever seen the queen shed real tears. A few contrived drops when manipulation called for it, but never real emotion.
    Israel’s king whispered in his sister’s ear, and she nodded—secrets shared between siblings. He finally released her and said with a mocking tone, “You look awful! What have they done to you in Judah?”
    Uneasy laughter fluttered in the gallery of princes. Those dressed in royal robes ranged from toddlers to late teens. Though called princes of Ahab, they had to be Ram’s children—King Ahab had been dead for eleven years. But could all seventy belong to King Ram?
    Ima shoved his shoulder, as she’d done with Hazi at the pool. “Just because you’ve doubled the size of Israel with your own sons doesn’t mean you can insult the queen of Judah.” Sheba suddenly saw Hazi’s reflection in Uncle Ram and realized why Ima had always favored her youngest son. The king kissed Ima’s forehead, and she removed a linen cloth from her belt, repairing the smeared kohl around her eyes.
    King Ram returned