The Gaze of a King

Chapter Forty- Eight | Brothers in Arms

I cradle Solomon close, feeling the weight of his tiny body, still so new, against my chest. His small breaths come in soft, even rhythms, a quiet counterpoint to the turmoil that has erupted within these palace walls. The echoes of footsteps and urgent whispers fill the corridors, but I keep my gaze on Solomon, my precious boy, who knows nothing of the conflicts that rage around us.

The door creaks open, and I look up to see his brothers enter. Solomon stirs in my arms, eyes fluttering open. Amnon, the eldest, approaches with a hesitant smile. His eyes flicker with something I cannot name—grief, perhaps, or fear. One person is missing among the brother's- Absolom. The chaos echoing throughout the palace due to him and his news of the army he erected to enact his revenge against Amnon. Beside him, Kileab and Adonijah stand shoulder to shoulder, their faces grave, as if the weight of their lineage has suddenly become too much to bear.

"This is your brother, Solomon," I whisper, holding him up for them to see. "The Lord has blessed us with him."

Amnon steps forward, his hand reaching out to touch the infant's cheek. His smile is thin, forced, and I wonder if he, too, feels the cold shadow of Absalom's rebellion stretching over all of us. "He has your eyes, Bathsheba," he says softly. But there is something missing in his voice—a warmth, a joy that should be there when a brother meets his newborn kin.

I glance at Kileab, who nods solemnly. "He is a gift," he says, though his gaze is distant. Adonijah remains silent, his expression unreadable.

A heavy knock interrupts the fragile peace, and the door swings open again. My father strides in, his face hard, his mouth a grim line. Behind him, Abigail follows, her eyes wide with worry. Eliam's presence fills the room with a sudden tension.

"Bathsheba," he says, his voice sharp. "We must speak."

I know what is coming; the words are already written across his face. I nod, glancing at Solomon's brothers, who take their leave quietly, the door closing behind them with a low thud.

Eliam wastes no time. "Your grandfather Ahithophel has joined with Absalom," he says, his tone cutting through the air like a blade. "He advises Absalom to take the throne by force. You know what that means for us, for you."

My breath catches in my throat. "He stands against King David?" I whisper, though I already know the answer. The betrayal cuts deep, a wound that feels fresh and raw. My own blood, my grandfather, siding with the son who has declared war against his father.

Abigail steps forward, her hand reaching out to me. "King David needs us now more than ever," she says, her voice steady. "I have pledged my loyalty to him, as you should, Bathsheba."

"Of course," I murmur. "My place is by David's side."

Eliam shakes his head, his expression darkening. "No, child. You must flee. You and Solomon. Take refuge away from this madness. There is no telling what Absalom might do, especially with Ahithophel whispering in his ear."

I hold Solomon closer, feeling his warmth seep into my skin. "I will not leave David," I say firmly. "He is my husband, my king. Where he goes, I go."

Eliam's face hardens. "This is not a matter of loyalty, Bathsheba. This is a matter of survival—for you, for your son. Do not let pride blind you to reason."

"Pride?" I nearly laugh, but the sound catches in my throat. "It is not pride, Father. It is duty and honor."

His eyes soften for a moment, but only for a moment. "Your loyalty is admirable, but foolish. Do you not see? Michal has already sided with Absalom. She thinks David has lost the favor of the Lord. And now your grandfather..." His voice breaks, and I see the pain there. "Your own blood stands against us."

"I do not care what Michal believes, or even Ahithophel," I reply, my voice rising. "David is my husband. The father of my son. I will stand by him, whatever may come."

Abigail nods, a faint smile touching her lips. "You have a strength in you, Bathsheba, one I have always admired. But listen to your father. Take Solomon to safety if you must."

"No," I say, my decision solidifying like stone within me. "I will not run. I will not hide. I will face whatever comes, beside my king."

The room falls silent. Solomon shifts in my arms, a soft sound escaping his lips. I look down at him, and in his innocent gaze, I find a flicker of the courage I need.

Eliam's shoulders sag, and he sighs deeply. "So be it, then. But know this, Bathsheba—I will do everything in my power to protect you and Solomon, even if it means standing against my own kin."

I nod, the weight of his words settling over me. "I understand," I whisper. "But my place is here. With David."