The Gaze of a King

Chapter Fifty- Seven | Snakes in the Shadows

A soft knock startles me. I rise slowly, careful not to wake Solomon, and move to the door. When I open it, a servant stands there, eyes downcast. In his hand, he holds a folded piece of parchment, sealed with wax.

The servant bows, placing the missive in my hand, and slips away silently. I close the door and move back to the window, holding Solomon close as I unfold the note. Zev's handwriting is familiar now, a bold script that seems to carry his voice across the page.

"Bathsheba," the missive begins. "Congratulations on your appointment as the king's advisor. I knew David would see your wisdom eventually. You have always been more perceptive than most give you credit for."

I feel a small smile tug at my lips. Zev has a way of weaving flattery into his words without making it feel like flattery at all. I continue reading.

"You have a difficult road ahead, my friend," the letter continues, "but know that I am at your disposal, as I have always been. The palace is no place for the naive or the gentle-hearted. It is a place where the strong thrive, where those with foresight make their mark."

My smile fades slightly. I know Zev means well, but his words carry a warning—a reminder that I cannot afford to be anything but vigilant.

"I write to you to discuss something of great importance. It concerns Solomon."

My heart tightens, and I glance down at my son, still sleeping in my arms, his tiny hands curled into fists. I read on, my grip tightening on the parchment.

"It is crucial that we protect him," Zev's message continues. "There are those who would see another take David's place when the time comes—those who would seek to undermine you and your child's future. I have heard whispers, rumors carried on the wind. You must be prepared, Bathsheba. Solomon's life, his claim, is not as secure as you may think."

I feel a shiver run down my spine. I have known, deep down, that this moment would come—that others would look at Solomon, still an infant, and see him as a threat. But to hear it so plainly, to know that Zev has heard these whispers himself... It makes the danger feel real, tangible.

"If you wish to help him ascend to the throne one day," Zev writes, "know that I will be your ally in this. You have my loyalty, my friendship, and my skills at your service. But we must tread carefully. There are many eyes in this palace, and few can be trusted."

I let out a slow breath, feeling the weight of his words settle over me like a cloak. I think of all the times Zev has helped me in the past, how he has maneuvered through the shadows, bringing me news and warnings when I needed them most. I trust him more than I trust most.

I glance back at Solomon, his tiny chest rising and falling with each breath. He is so small, so vulnerable, and yet his future holds such weight. I feel a surge of protectiveness wash over me, mingled with a quiet, fierce determination.

I turn back to the letter.

"Think on what I have said," Zev concludes. "And if you are ready, send word. We will plan together, in the shadows where no one else dares to look. Until then, stay vigilant, my friend. The storm is closer than you think."

There is no signature at the bottom. I fold the letter, pressing it against my lips for a moment as I consider his words.

I have been given a position of power, but it is a fragile one. David will not rule forever, and already I see the shifting of alliances, the subtle glances, the quiet murmurs. Especially after the failed rebellion of Absalom and his subsequent execution. I must be careful, must tread lightly.

I place Solomon back in his cradle, smoothing the soft linen blanket over him. His eyes flutter open for a moment, and he looks up at me with such trust, such innocence. I stroke his cheek gently, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath my fingers.

"I will protect you," I whisper to him, my voice low but firm. "No matter what it takes. I promise. You will be King one day, Solomon."

I rise and move to my desk, pulling out a fresh piece of parchment. I dip my quill into the ink, my hand steady as I write:

"Your warning is received and your offer accepted."

I seal the letter and call for the servant, handing it to him. As he leaves, I glance once more at Solomon, my heart swelling with a mix of fear and resolve. All there is to do is wait for Zev to receive my reply and he will come to me.

I know the path ahead will be treacherous, that I must be shrewd and cautious. But I have allies, and I have a reason to fight. I will do whatever it takes to ensure my son's future, to keep him safe from those who would see him fall.

And with Zev by my side, perhaps I can navigate the shadows that lie ahead.