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Israel’s treaty bride tonight—as the one who will salve the wounds of Abishag’s disgrace. In light of King David’s death, I felt in my spirit that Solomon should hear the proposal first, before the northern tribes approve it.” Arielah’s tears quieted, and he whispered to his daughter’s broken heart, “I ask you the same question I asked the elders of Israel’s northern tribes. Can you trust me to do what is best for you without knowing all the details?” Jehoshaphat held her at arm’s length, awaiting her response, searching her eyes for the truth.
    “I trust you wholeheartedly,” she said. “I know you will do what is right for me—and what is best for Israel.”
    Jehoshaphat felt the dampness of her sleeve. She must have wet it with her tears , he thought . Then a cool breeze blew, and her robe fluttered. The clouds cleared, and the moonlight revealed the complete trust on Arielah’s face—and something more.
    Blood.
    Jehoshaphat was stricken. He studied her torn robe and for the first time noticed the bloodstains on her head covering and mantle. The control he’d displayed as Shunem’s judge vanished, the restraint of his emotions evaporating like morning mist.
    “Arielah, are you all right?” He gathered her in his arms again, grief nearly choking him, and his heart was torn in two. “What happened?” he whispered in her ear. But in his spirit, he knew. Arielah’s silence confirmed her brothers’ involvement. From the time they were children, she had yearned for their acceptance, hoped for their repentance, but only reaped their wrath.
    Jehoshaphat squeezed his eyes shut. Jehovah, wisdom fails me when it comes to these rebellious sons of mine. What am I to do? He had been praying for his sons’ transformation for years and loved all three of his children deeply; yet how does one separate hatred for deeds from the persons themselves?
    Arielah pulled away to meet his gaze. “I thought tonight would be the beginning of my escape from my brothers’ cruelty. I thought I could hold on as long as I knew the treaty bride plan was in place, as long as I knew God had a plan for me . . .” Her voice trailed away into quiet sobs, muffled in her abba’s shoulder.
    Jehoshaphat felt a tear slide down his cheek. Surely his heart would break in two. “Oh, my precious lamb,” he said, “Jehovah does have a purpose for all this.” As he held her tightly, their shoulders shook, unified in sorrow.
    When their tears had ebbed, she nestled her head against him. “I believe it is as you said, Abba. From the womb, Jehovah has called me to be a lion of God, but when my brothers’ hatred flares, I feel like a frightened lamb.”
    “My precious girl,” he said, “I have tried to protect you—”
    “Abba, this is not your fault!” she said, stepping away, passion in her tone. “You can’t change their hearts. And you can’t protect me every moment.”
    Gathering her into his arms again, he continued. “I know I can’t watch over you all the time, but if you were married . . . sometimes I wish you were called to an ordinary life, to marry a shepherd and give me a multitude of grandchildren.” His words were choked by the tightness in his throat. When he could speak again, he did so in a whisper. “But when one is called to great heights, Arielah, the pathway up the mountain is often riddled with deep ruts.”
    Just then, Jehoshaphat felt a hand on his shoulder. Releasing Arielah, he slipped his arm around his wife’s petite waist. Jehosheba must have heard the elders’ meeting adjourn and saw the two standing by the courtyard gate. She melted into her husband’s side and looked tenderly at Arielah.
    “Come, daughter. I’ve heard enough and seen enough to know that our sons have again dealt with you harshly.” Jehosheba turned and stroked Jehoshaphat’s cheek. “And I can see from the look in your eyes that the meeting with the officials must not have gone well.” She reached for