The feast ended.
The nobles returned to their provinces.
The courtiers offered polished farewells.
The palace was cleaned, the goblets counted, the linens perfumed and folded away.
But the silence remained.
The kind of silence that creeps in after the music ends — when laughter has faded and the wine has turned sour on your tongue.
I had exiled Vashti. I had signed the decree.
I had declared to the world that order had been restored.
But the truth is…
I missed her.
The Weight of an Empty Throne
Her seat at the banquet table sat bare for weeks.
No one dared mention it.
Not even the court officials.
It wasn’t love I felt for her. Not quite.
It was… symmetry.
She had balanced me.
Even when she annoyed me.
Even when she said too little, or said too much.
She had never tried to flatter me like the others.
She had never pretended I was more than a man wrapped in a king’s robe.
She saw me — and ruled beside me with her own kind of pride. And in the wake of her silence, I discovered the burden of being surrounded by people who only agree.
The Women Who Replaced Her
The harem remained full.
The dancers came when summoned.
The concubines laughed when I smiled.
But every gesture felt choreographed.
Every glance was weighted with ambition.
Every kiss was quiet compliance.
I was drowning in obedience.
And I began to understand… obedience without substance is like a feast without salt.
The Advisors Returned
It was one of the younger advisors who said it first:
“Let beautiful young virgins be sought out for the king.”
“Let them be gathered… so the king may choose a new queen.”
They said it with cheer.
As if replacing a queen were no different than choosing a new tapestry for the throne room.
I nodded.
Not because I was eager.
Because I was tired of mourning a woman I had sent away.
And I knew the empire would not wait long for a throne left vacant.
The Parade of Petals
They came by the dozens. Then hundreds.
Girls from every province.
Eyes wide, voices soft.
Each one scrubbed, perfumed, trained, shaped — as if the harem were a garden, and I the gardener.
I saw them like waves.
Most blurred together — smiles without memory, names without faces.
But one… one stood apart.
She did not look at me the way the others did.
She looked through me.
Not with challenge.
With clarity.
Her name was Esther.
The Crown Was Waiting
When they placed the crown in my hands again, I held it for a long time.
Heavy.
Like before.
But this time, I didn’t think of power.
I thought of what it meant to ask someone to wear it.
I had once used this crown to strip a woman of her voice.
Now I was about to place it on the head of another — not knowing her heart, not hearing her mind.
And yet…
Something told me this one would not vanish quietly.
