Providence by Barbara Britton

Author:Barbara Britton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: christian Fiction
ISBN: 9781611168426
Publisher: Pelican Book Group
Published: 2016-12-15T05:00:00+00:00

17

Hannah threw Naabak’s uneaten lamb into the fire. Cinders sparked then blackened the meat to ash. The constant tromp of hooves, wheels, and footfalls had ceased, and only the occasional cadence of orders rang into the night. Darkness hid the sculpted cliffs that marked the entrance to her homeland.

The longing in her heart remained. Longing for Gil. Longing for her family and for her city. Why had God allowed her capture? Wasn’t she seeking the mouthpiece of God in the land of the Levites?

“I have been faithful all my life,” she muttered to a winking star. “Do not abandon me when I have come so far in search of your prophet.”

The crush of pebbles startled her.

“I knew you to be mad. Shrewd, but mad.” Konath knelt by the fire and glanced toward Naabak’s cart. “And what of our commander?”

“He lives.” She drew back from the heat of the flames. And from him. One swift move and he could drag her into the darkness.

“Pity. Death would spare us a battle.”

His laugh rippled along her skin snake-charming the hairs on her neck and arms.

“You have breached this border before.” She switched the subject from death. “Did you not leave any plunder?”

“There will be spoils.” The sweep of his gaze toward Reumah’s bedchamber caused Hannah’s throat to gag. “And sport. Your husband may be able to fight one or two of my men, but a dozen? His flesh will feed the vultures from here to Damascus.”

Spit pooled in her mouth. The desire to slap his face wooed her. She swallowed the temptation. “You are wicked. Do you not fear God? The men of Manasseh?”

“Who is the wicked one? You tease me and run for refuge. Interrupt my pleasures. Snatch sport from my arena. Plot schemes with my commander.” He stalked around her like a hunter until his breath bathed her face. “Soon, I will answer to the King of Aram. No one else. Not your false god.”

“That is blasphemy.” She ducked from the cage of his body, nearer to Reumah’s cart.

He blocked her path.

“I have been in wait for this command for too long. I am as great as Naabak. Have I not risen to fame in his absence? He is diseased. He must let go of his life.”

“You boast while Naabak suffers? What a vile man.” She spit forth the truth.

Konath chuckled. He beat his chest, reveling in the decay of his commander.

“I fear Reumah will not be enough for me when I am second to the King. I will be in need of concubines.”

She dodged the stroke of his fat fingers. “I may be contagious.”

He held his ground. “You look healthy.”

“I would die first.”

“How about you die after?” Konath’s seductive smirk was a millstone in her belly.

Doubling back, she ran to the safety of Naabak’s infirmary. Sitting cross-legged in the corner of his bed frame, she gripped the planked oak. She scraped the wood grain with her thumbnail, willing her heart not to burst forth through her ribs. Naabak’s cart was her anchor in Konath’s savage storm.

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