The Guardian's Promise. Christina Rich

is right, adon. You cannot think to leave your family unprotected.”

      She silently thanked Ari for not revealing the earlier events to her father. He’d only fret, weakening his health.

      “I would send another, but I do not trust...” Her father began to wheeze and cough. She patted him on the back as Ari held on to his arm.

      “We will discuss the matter more after you rest,” Ari said, shadows evident in his eyes. Grim lines etched his handsome face. It was as if the yoke he bore for her was not the only burden he carried. For the first time, with her sister’s words fresh in her mind, she wondered about his days before he arrived on her father’s land, lips parched and body battered. Dying.

      Footsteps on the path interrupted her musings. Fear pounded in her blood. Had the soldiers returned? She lifted her eyes, shielding them against the sun with her free hand, and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of Joash.

      He ran toward them, his dark curls bouncing just above his shoulders. His tunic danced against his thighs, exposing his scarred knees. The scrapes the only evidence that this young boy, seven summers old, was but a child. Such a shame he did not laugh and play more. He was too serious, much like the man who diligently taught him God’s Law. Ari’s arrival had truly been a gift from God, not just to her father, but as a mentor to their people during a time when the leader of Judah had banned God from the land.

      Joash stopped. And as if in command of all the world, he lifted his head and looked her father in the eye. “Abba, Leah has sent me to fetch you.”

      “Is that so?”

      “I would not lie,” Joash replied as if offended. Mira wanted to smile at the boy who had filled a special place in her heart, who had placated the emptiness of her womb all these years.

      “Of course not, my son.” Her father extended his hand out for Joash to escort him home. “You should do as you are bid.”

      “Yes, Abba.” Joash placed his small hand into her father’s frail palm. “Leah has made challah.”

      “Has she now?”

      Her stomach grumbled at the mention of her mother’s fresh-baked bread. Brushing her troublesome veil back over her shoulders, she fell into step beside Ari.

      “That one is too serious,” she said.

      “As he should be,” Ari replied.

      She tilted her chin and considered the boy. Her cousin had arrived with the boy near six years before, only days after Ari had. She’d claimed the babe’s parents had been killed, left an orphan. Her father took him in and began raising him as his own. “How so? He’s only a child. He should run and play. He takes his studies too much to heart.”

      Ari twisted his lips, which she found endearing, although what she really wanted to do was to run her fingers along the seam and smooth them into the heart-warming smile she had found appealing.

      “If there were more men such as that child, there would be less horror in the land.”

      It was the closest she’d ever heard him come to speaking about the terror ruling Judah. “You speak of our queen?”

      He looked into her eyes as if searching her soul. “It does not matter of what I speak. But the boy...it is obvious God has destined great things for him.”

      Mira laughed. “It is not likely Joash will rise one morning from tending sheep and become a king like David.”

      It was barely perceptible. If she hadn’t made it her duty to memorize Ari’s every nuance and bearing over the years—not because she fancied herself in love with him but rather so she could find his weaknesses, make him feel helpless as he did her—she never would have known. But she saw. It was almost unbelievable. He stumbled. This sure, strong man tripped over his feet and stumbled.

      “Be careful, Mira.” Her name, a mere whisper, rolled over his tongue and curled into her heart. Her breath caught in her throat for he had never before addressed her by her name. “Our Lord may decide to prove you wrong.”

      Chapter Four

      “I do not like your leaving, Ari.”

      He finished rinsing the plaster from the pottery bowl and rose to greet the woman who had risked her life to carry Joash away from Athaliah’s clutches. “I do not like it either, Tama. There is naught to be done, unless you wish to tell your uncle the truth about the boy. Would you place your people in more danger than they already are? Would you risk sacrificing Judah’s future king?”

      “You know I would not.” Tama wrapped her arms around her waist. Fine lines crinkled at the corners of her eyes. Her youth had long since vanished. “With the soldiers prowling...” Dropping her hands to her sides, she bowed her head in defeat.

      Ari lifted her chin with the tip of his finger. There was no doubt the burden of their secret weighed heavy on her shoulders, as it did his. The soldiers’ presence seemed to be weakening her resolve to see their mission through. He stared into her eyes and willed her strength, courage. “Tama, if not for you and Jehosheba, the boy would have perished along with all the others. You’ve been a dauntless protector, and I believe you will continue to do so in my absence.”

      “I am not sure I can.”

      “You have no choice.” His voice sounded harsh even to his own ears. Given the widening of her eyes, she heard it, too. He meant to encourage not dishearten her. He scrubbed his palm over his face and released a frustrated sigh. “My apologies, Tama. I did not intend to speak harshly. I will only be gone two days. Three at the most. Be vigilant, as I know you are. If trouble should arise, you know what to do. All will be well, Tama. You will see. We must place our hope in our God.”

      Tama nodded. She stiffened and seemed to stand taller. “You are correct, Ari. Our Lord has not hidden us here for all these years only to deliver us into the hands of our enemies.” She glanced up to the darkening sky. “I cannot say I look forward to our return to Jerusalem when the time comes, but I’ll be happy when Jehoiada sends for us.”

      Ari understood. The elders had continually praised him for his gift of perseverance, and even though he considered his current duty an honor, he longed for the day when he didn’t have to be on guard and ever watchful, the day when the child would become another’s responsibility.

      Henna lightly danced in the air, and an awareness of her presence pricked his nape. “Hello, Mira.”

      “Mira,” Tama greeted her cousin with a kiss to each cheek. “I was admiring the work Ari has done to your home. Not much longer and it will be complete.”

      Mira’s cheeks reddened, and she dipped her chin, looking to her feet. “That is what I’m told.”

      His heart saddened at her lack of enthusiasm. Did she not want a home of her own? Did she not want to marry? Given her suitor, he did not blame her.

      “I do not mean to interrupt.” She glanced at him through hooded eyes. “Abba seeks word with you, Ari.”

      “Shalom, Ari.” Tama bowed.

      “Shalom, Tama.” She skirted around the corner of what was to be Mira’s home.

      “I pray our hope is not in vain,” he said beneath his breath. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted speaking them. His lack of faith soured his stomach.

      “Not in vain?”

      He shook his muddled thoughts. “Pardon?”

      “You pray our hope is not in vain for what?” Mira waited for an answer.

      He half growled and half laughed at his lack of secrecy. “Given, you do not seem pleased with your home—”

      “Oh, it is not that,” she said, ducking beneath the doorposts. Her fingers glided along the scrolling. Her eyes filled with delight. She