The drama of the Old Testament comes to life as Judah's most notorious king ascends to the throne in this gripping novel from the award-winning author of Isaiah's Daughter. At eight years old, Shulle has known only life in a small village with her loving but peculiar father. When Uncle Shebna offers shelter in Jerusalem in exchange for Shulle's help tutoring King Manasseh, Judah's five-year-old co-regent who displays the same peculiarities as her father, she's eager to experience the royal court. But Shulle soon realizes the limits of her father's strict adherence to Yahweh's Law when Uncle Shebna teaches her of the starry hosts and their power. Convinced Judah must be freed from Yahweh's chains, she begins the subtle swaying of young Manasseh, using her charm and skills on the boy no one else understands. When King Hezekiah dies, twelve-year-old Manasseh is thrust onto Judah's throne, bitter at Yahweh and eager to marry the girl he adores. Assyria's crown prince favors Manasseh and twists his brilliant mind toward cruelty, beginning Shulle's long and harrowing journey to discover the Yahweh she'd never known, guided with loving wisdom by Manasseh's mother: Isaiah's daughter, the heartbroken Hephzibah. Amid Judah's dark days, a desperate remnant emerges, claiming the Lord's promise, "Though we're helpless now, we're never hopeless--because we serve El Shaddai." Shulle is among them, a girl who becomes a queen through Isaiah's legacy. About the Author Mesu Andrews is the author of Isaiah's Daughter, the winner of a Christy Award in the Historical Fiction category, which is the highest honor in Christian fiction. She is the author of numerous other novels including The Pharaoh's Daughter, Miriam, and Love Amid the Ashes. Her deep understanding of and love for God's Word brings the biblical world alive for readers. Mesu lives in North Carolina with her husband, Roy, and enjoys spending time with her growing tribe of grandchildren. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Chapter 1I hated weeding the garden alone, but I’d rather Abba copy his scrolls inside than bear our neighbor’s cutting remarks. Why did others ridicule what they couldn’t understand? Abba couldn’t tolerate wool against his skin, and linen cost too much for him to own more than one robe. Garden work would ruin it, so one day he worked bare chested―and earned the wrath of the village elders. They had treated him with suspicion ever since. Though it happened three years ago when I was only five, I still remembered the shame on Abba’s face. We held each other that afternoon and wept, prisoners in our own home.Fury strengthened my grip on a wayward green sprout. “Ouch!” Dropping the thistle, I sucked on my finger and removed the barb with my teeth.“Are you all right, Meshullemeth?” Our neighbor’s singsong voice rubbed at my raw mood. I spit on the ground and returned to my work. Of course I was all right. It was just a thistle.“Haruz works that poor little girl like a mule,” the neighbor woman said to her maid. “I don’t know why the elders don’t take her away from him. She should be with a real family.”I pretended not to hear and kept my back bent, head down. Abba and I were a real family. What did she know about our lives? How many eight-year-old girls could write? I could. How many could read the Torah? Perhaps I should write a complaint to the elders about her. I sighed. Abba would never allow it. He would quote King Solomon, Anxiety weighs down the heart, but a kind word cheers it up.Abba was too nice.The ground under my feet began to tremble, and I looked at the neighbor woman to see if she noticed. She was too busy talking. By the time she looked to the southeast, I knew it was the pounding of many horses.“Shulle, get in the house!” Abba shouted from the threshold of our little house. Tucking my robe into my belt, I ran fast as a deer. Maybe someday Abba and I would follow one of those pretty creature
