breath, she silently begged him to sing a song of love—for her.
“Listening to David’s singing again I see, eh, little sister?”
Michal jumped at her sister’s whispered words, released an irritated growl, and whirled to look at Merab. “Looks like you’re no different,” she hissed, keeping her voice low.
Merab’s chin raised a notch, and her eyes held disdain. “I have a reason to be here. Father summoned me.”
Michal bit back a curt retort and looked her sister up and down. She wore an elegant gown and jeweled sandals, and a sheer veil covered her face. Her long hair was piled high with shell-shaped combs, and a golden sash held her scarlet-and-blue-striped robe together.
“Why are you wearing your best robe?”
Merab rolled her eyes. “Really, Michal, I can’t go into Father’s banquet hall and meet my betrothed in my normal attire, now can I?”
Michal swallowed, her jaw clenched. “You’re not betrothed yet.”
“If Father has his way, I will be before the day is done. He’s going to surprise David by offering me to him now.”
A swell of nausea turned Michal’s stomach. Merab couldn’t marry David. Not now. She’d had no time to do anything to stop it. And stop it she must.
“Once the betrothal ceremony takes place, I won’t have you to worry about anymore, now will I, Michal?”
Before Michal could answer, Merab, followed by her maids, swept past her into the center of the banquet hall.
Michal trailed her sister at a distance. The crowd of men parted to let her pass, and she straightened her back, holding her head high as though she was fully aware of what was happening and had a perfect right to be there.
A hush settled over the room as Merab approached Father’s throne, her bearing regal, her maids two paces behind. She knelt before the king, then stood. Father rose as well and came to stand in front of Merab.
“Men of Israel—my oldest daughter, Merab.” Father put a hand on Merab’s shoulder and turned her to face the company of gawking men. Though Merab stood rigid and appeared serene, Michal sensed her discomfort. Or maybe it was her own discomfort she was feeling, closed in as she was by too many interested men. She took a step forward, moving farther from the crowd to slide against the wall near the antechamber, where she could see the throne from a safer distance.
She scanned the room, spotting David as he stood and handed his lyre to a servant. Had Father told him? By the look on his face, he had to know. Oh, why did it have to come to this?
“David, son of Jesse, come.” Her father’s command held the full weight of his kingly authority, making Michal’s heart sink. Her father was in his right mind, which did not bode well for her.
David walked across the hall and bowed three times at the king’s feet. When he stood, her father stepped forward and grasped his hand, placing it in Merab’s.
“Behold my older daughter, Merab.” The king looked at David. “I will give her to you for a wife, only be valiant for me and fight the Lord’s battles.”
But David had already proven he was the most valiant man in Israel. How could her father think to suggest that he needed to do more?
Silence settled over the room, pressing in on her. Michal’s heart skipped a beat, then another, her stomach twisting in dread. She searched David’s face, trying to read his expression, but he had masked his emotions well. He looked from her father to her sister, the silence lengthening. She should do something to distract him, to keep him from making a commitment she would never be able to accept, but her mind would not formulate a single plan, and she couldn’t pull her gaze from him.
“Who am I, and what is my life or my father’s family, that I should be son-in-law to the king?” David’s words made her breath catch, matching the sharp intake of breath coming from Merab.
An unreadable expression crossed her father’s face. His jeweled, age-scarred fingers pulled
“Listening to David’s singing again I see, eh, little sister?”
Michal jumped at her sister’s whispered words, released an irritated growl, and whirled to look at Merab. “Looks like you’re no different,” she hissed, keeping her voice low.
Merab’s chin raised a notch, and her eyes held disdain. “I have a reason to be here. Father summoned me.”
Michal bit back a curt retort and looked her sister up and down. She wore an elegant gown and jeweled sandals, and a sheer veil covered her face. Her long hair was piled high with shell-shaped combs, and a golden sash held her scarlet-and-blue-striped robe together.
“Why are you wearing your best robe?”
Merab rolled her eyes. “Really, Michal, I can’t go into Father’s banquet hall and meet my betrothed in my normal attire, now can I?”
Michal swallowed, her jaw clenched. “You’re not betrothed yet.”
“If Father has his way, I will be before the day is done. He’s going to surprise David by offering me to him now.”
A swell of nausea turned Michal’s stomach. Merab couldn’t marry David. Not now. She’d had no time to do anything to stop it. And stop it she must.
“Once the betrothal ceremony takes place, I won’t have you to worry about anymore, now will I, Michal?”
Before Michal could answer, Merab, followed by her maids, swept past her into the center of the banquet hall.
Michal trailed her sister at a distance. The crowd of men parted to let her pass, and she straightened her back, holding her head high as though she was fully aware of what was happening and had a perfect right to be there.
A hush settled over the room as Merab approached Father’s throne, her bearing regal, her maids two paces behind. She knelt before the king, then stood. Father rose as well and came to stand in front of Merab.
“Men of Israel—my oldest daughter, Merab.” Father put a hand on Merab’s shoulder and turned her to face the company of gawking men. Though Merab stood rigid and appeared serene, Michal sensed her discomfort. Or maybe it was her own discomfort she was feeling, closed in as she was by too many interested men. She took a step forward, moving farther from the crowd to slide against the wall near the antechamber, where she could see the throne from a safer distance.
She scanned the room, spotting David as he stood and handed his lyre to a servant. Had Father told him? By the look on his face, he had to know. Oh, why did it have to come to this?
“David, son of Jesse, come.” Her father’s command held the full weight of his kingly authority, making Michal’s heart sink. Her father was in his right mind, which did not bode well for her.
David walked across the hall and bowed three times at the king’s feet. When he stood, her father stepped forward and grasped his hand, placing it in Merab’s.
“Behold my older daughter, Merab.” The king looked at David. “I will give her to you for a wife, only be valiant for me and fight the Lord’s battles.”
But David had already proven he was the most valiant man in Israel. How could her father think to suggest that he needed to do more?
Silence settled over the room, pressing in on her. Michal’s heart skipped a beat, then another, her stomach twisting in dread. She searched David’s face, trying to read his expression, but he had masked his emotions well. He looked from her father to her sister, the silence lengthening. She should do something to distract him, to keep him from making a commitment she would never be able to accept, but her mind would not formulate a single plan, and she couldn’t pull her gaze from him.
“Who am I, and what is my life or my father’s family, that I should be son-in-law to the king?” David’s words made her breath catch, matching the sharp intake of breath coming from Merab.
An unreadable expression crossed her father’s face. His jeweled, age-scarred fingers pulled
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