Michal by Jill Eileen Smith

from her maid and the other women of her father’s court, past the virgin dancers and the appreciative young men watching them dance, on through the garden gate. A grove of olive trees rested beyond the walled garden but within the more extensive fortress, which included the servants’ quarters and housing for the on-duty soldiers.
    With quiet steps, Michal maneuvered through the crowd, glancing over her shoulder to be sure she wasn’t being followed. Perhaps she had overstepped her bounds this time. If she had not spoken to Father about Adriel’s interest in Merab—an assumed interest at best—Merab might at this moment be resting in David’s arms. Michal shivered, and her stomach twisted until she felt physically sick.
    Her jeweled sandals trampled the soft earth toward the olive grove. Moonlight cast eerie shadows over the place, and Michal considered turning back. Maybe she shouldn’t have come here alone at night like this.
    She cocked her head to listen. The steady drum continued to beat, pushing the newlyweds toward the bridal tent with unseen hands. Michal didn’t want to be there when Adriel returned to the merrymakers. She didn’t want to be reminded of her part in it all.
    “Isn’t it a bit late for a princess to be out by herself so far from the safety of the palace?”
    Michal jumped back at the familiar voice. She tripped on a protruding tree root but caught a branch and righted herself. David stepped from the shadows and touched her arm, steadying her. He turned her to face him. “What are you doing here, Michal? Shouldn’t you be at the wedding?”
    He sounded stern, but his eyes twinkled in the moon’s glow, and he courted a smile. Michal’s heart stopped and then soared at his touch, and when she looked into his handsome face, she couldn’t speak.
    David’s gaze penetrated Michal’s soul, and amid her racing heart she imagined lifting one hand to brush the wavy strands of dark hair from his forehead. Instead she lowered her lashes and studied his feet.
    “Aren’t you going to answer me?”
    She lifted her head and met his steady gaze. “I needed to get away—to think.”
    He took one step back and clasped his hands behind him. “I see. It seems we have the same idea. I too came here to think . . . and pray.”
    Michal reached out to a low olive branch, gripping it for support. His nearness was making her head spin. “What did you need to think about?”
    David shifted positions, and Michal watched his gaze travel the length of her. He looked beyond her, then back to her face. His feet moved closer. “I’ve been wondering why your father gave my intended bride to another.”
    Michal’s heart hammered, and she clutched the branch harder, all too aware of the intensity of David’s gaze.
    “Do you know why, Michal?”
    She looked away, thankful for the dark of night to hide the warmth she could feel filling her cheeks. If she told him the truth, he might reject her forever. But if she lied and he found out about it, all hope of gaining his favor would be lost.
    “Father thought you had refused her, and when he learned of Adriel’s interest in Merab, he contacted him. Adriel is older than Merab by almost eleven years and had acquired enough wealth to supply a healthy bride price. So my father betrothed her to him. Honestly, David, my father thought you would die fighting the Philistines, and he didn’t want to marry Merab to someone whose life stood in such a precarious position.”
    She stole a glance at him then. He lifted one hand to his chin and stroked his dark brown beard, a thoughtful look on his face.
    “Considering your father has twice sought to take my life, I can understand his thinking.”
    Michal nodded, then slowly stepped away from the tree until she stood within a pace of him. Her pulse thudded as she took in his masculine scent and watched the breeze play with a tendril of his hair. “That’s not the whole truth.”
    David gave her a curious look.