Chapter Twelve
Was he waiting for her again at the cabin? With a sigh, Neona settled on the grass next to her sister’s grave. It was impossible to see him tonight. Her mother suspected her, so she had ordered the other women to take turns guarding the rock wall where they kept the rope ladder stashed.
Neona had sent her pet leopard to the cabin with instructions not to let Zoltan approach the rock wall where he might be seen, but she couldn’t be sure Zhan had understood. Even so, he had scampered off in the right direction. She hadn’t dared attach a note to him, since whoever was standing guard might spot it and it would serve as proof that she was indeed meeting someone secretly.
The night before she’d had to endure yet another lecture from her mother on the unworthiness of men. They could never be trusted. They wanted only sex and power. And they could get both from the women of Beyul-La.
The pool of Living Water in the cave’s throne room had enabled the women to fulfill their sacred duty over the course of many centuries. Men would never accept their dedication to duty. All they would see was a way to live forever as the richest and most powerful men in the world. So any man who learned their secret had to be executed. It was harsh, the queen admitted, but it worked. The secret had remained intact.
Over the centuries there’d been only one exception to the rule. Frederic. He’d been near death when Calliope had found him in the mountains. She’d erected a makeshift shelter for them, and in the days it had taken her to heal him, they’d fallen in love. She’d begged Nima to allow him to live in the neighboring valley, and Frederic had managed to convince them that he could help them. The outside world was changing quickly, he’d said, and they would be helpless to deal with it if caught unprepared.
Nima had been doubtful at first, but after Winifred was born and exhibited the gift of communicating with winged creatures, the queen had changed her mind. Freya was born a year later, and she possessed another useful gift—the ability to make crops flourish. Meanwhile, Frederic taught them English and all he could about the outside world. His love for his wife and daughters was so great that he’d been happy to accept his exile from his homeland. But that had changed after the birth of his son. The prison he’d accepted for himself, he could not accept for the boy. When Franklin had turned six, old enough to start school, his father had taken him back to England.
Nima had taken his desertion as proof that all men were alike. Ultimately, they could not be trusted.
But Zoltan insisted that Frederic had kept their secret. He’d remained faithful. Neona wanted to believe that some men could be trusted, for she hoped Zoltan was one of them. He knew too much. She could only pray that he would remain trustworthy and silent.
As much as she wanted to be with him, she knew the best way to keep him alive was to break off with him completely. For how many years would she think of him, dream of him? He would be out there somewhere roaming the earth, while she remained here, forever shackled to their sacred duty.
“I’m not allowed to leave the valley now,” Neona whispered to her sister. Had she become the prisoner that Minerva had warned her about? Could she live the rest of her long life without love? Without Zoltan?
She rested her hand on the dirt of her sister’s grave. “He attracts me like no other man. He excites me. Surprises me. Makes me laugh. Makes me burn.” Her fingers dug into the dirt. “He makes me long for the impossible.”
But there was something about him that was niggling at the back of her mind. Last night, he’d taken her knife and spun her around to grab her at a speed that had been incredibly fast. There had also been something odd about his eyes. She was no longer sure it had been a reflection from the fire. And then somehow he had managed to escape the cabin without being seen.
A mystery man. Even that made him appealing to her. He excited her mind as much as her body.
She released the clod of dirt and brushed her hands together. There was no point in speculating about who he was or where he’d come from. She could never see him again. Tears filled her eyes, and she blinked them away. Think about something else.
By the light of the three-quarter moon, she spotted the arrow Zoltan had used last night to have Zhan carry a note. It lay close by on the ground. He must have found it in the woods where she’d shot at him a few times that first night. She should go back to collect the fallen arrows, but she couldn’t leave the valley. Couldn’t ever see him again.
The tears spilled over.
“Neona,” a voice whispered behind her.
A male voice. With a gasp, she turned around.
He was uphill at the edge of the forest. He stepped toward her, his form still partially hidden in shadow.
“No!” she whispered, jumping to her feet. She looked around nervously, then dashed toward him. “Zoltan.” She shoved him into the cover of the forest.
He caught her by the arms. “Are you all right?”
“No! You’re scaring me. If anyone catches you here, they’ll kill you!”
“I had to make sure you’re all right.”
“I’m fine. Please, go!”
“You’ve been crying.” He wiped her cheek with his thumb.
The simple gesture made more tears flow, and she clung to him as he held her tight. Just a few minutes, she thought as she wrapped her arms around his neck. After a few minutes, she would let go of him forever.
“I was worried about you,” he whispered, his hand rubbing her back. “Did you get in trouble?”
She shook her head. “Just the standard speech about how men cannot be trusted.”
“You can trust me.” He released her and pulled a box from his jacket. “I told you I would bring you a watch tonight, and I did.”
She took the box from him and pivoted, scanning their surroundings.
“There’s no one around,” he assured her. “I already checked.”
“But how did you get here? There is only one way into this valley, and it’s being guarded.” She looked around again. “They must have seen you.”
“No one saw me.” He motioned toward the box. “I changed the time for you.”
How had he managed to get here? Neona glanced uphill. The mountains surrounding Beyul-La were high and treacherous. It would take several days to enter the valley that way. The only group to ever attempt it had been the expedition Frederic had been on, and everyone had died but him.
“It’s all right, Neona,” Zoltan said softly.
She shook her head. “You’re not safe here. You shouldn’t have come.”
“I promised you a watch, so nothing was going to stop me.”
Her heart squeezed in her chest. He was a man of his word. She opened the box and stared. This wasn’t anything like the pocket watch Frederic had owned.
“It’s not that great, I know,” Zoltan mumbled. “I have a better one on order—”
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, touching the sparkly kitten. “It’s too pretty to hide in a pocket.”
“It goes on your wrist. Here, I’ll show you.” He took the watch out and fastened the band around her wrist.
“The color is so bright.” She felt the band and gasped. “It’s so strong, yet it bends. What is this wondrous material?”
“Plastic,” he muttered.
“It’s amazing!”
He winced. “I’ll get something in gold and diamonds—”
“No! I love this.” She smiled at the sparkly kitten. “Zhan will love it, too.”
“I saw him down at the cabin.”
“Oh, good.” She turned her wrist, admiring the way the watch sparkled in the moonlight. “I sent him to keep you away from the rock wall so you wouldn’t be seen.” With a sigh, she unfastened the watch. “I cannot let this be seen, either.”
“Hide it if you must, but please accept it.”
She glanced up at him.
“Accept me.”
Her heart stilled. “I-it is not possible. You must know they will kill you if they find you here.”
“I’ll stay in Frederic’s cabin.”
“I fear even that is not safe.” She slipped the watch into the linen pouch that dangled from the sash tied around her waist. “You know too much.”
“Frederic must have known. He was allowed to live here.”
“He was the only one.” Neona glanced downhill at the burial mounds. “Calliope begged for him on her knees.”
“How did she meet him?”
“It’s a long story.”
“We have all night.” Zoltan sat on the ground and patted the spot next to him.
She glanced around one more time. Perhaps it was safe here. The others would never believe that he’d managed to sneak past the guard. She sat next to him, her legs crossed, while he stretched his long legs out in front of him and rested back on his elbows. The ground was soft with a thick cushion of dried pine and fir needles.
She told the story of Calliope and Frederic, carefully avoiding any references to the women’s sacred duty.
“I’m sorry I never got to meet her,” Zoltan said. “She sounds very brave.”
“She was.” Neona pointed at the burial mound on the far right. “That is Calliope’s grave there.”
He sat up so he could see the mounds. “Which one belongs to your sister?”
Neona swallowed hard. “Third from the right.”
“I wish I could have met her, too. Who are the others?”
She gave him a dubious look. “You really want to know?”
“Yes. This is your life, and I want to share it with you.”
Her eyes misted with tears. “The other mounds belong to those who died in battle two weeks ago. Actually, almost three weeks now. It’s been five days since we met.”
He nodded. “Five glorious days.”
She gave him a wistful smile, then gestured toward the burial mounds. “Next to Calliope is her oldest daughter, Farah. Farah’s father was a Persian soldier. She was . . . a bit older than Winifred and Freya.”
“A few centuries older?”
After a pause, Neona nodded. He already knew, so there was hardly any point in lying. “Next to Farah is my sister, Minerva. The next two are Lydia’s daughters. Pema’s father was Tibetan, and Mahima’s father was Indian. The last grave is Lydia’s mother, Anjali.”
Zoltan grimaced. “Lydia must be heartbroken.”
“Yes.” A tear rolled down Neona’s cheek. “She has one daughter left, Tashi.”
“What happens if one of you gives birth to a son?”
Neona sighed. “It happened to Calliope, and once to my sister.”
Zoltan turned to face her. “Then you have a nephew? Where is he?”
“The queen took him to the Buddhist monastery about thirty miles from here. He should be about seven years old now.”
Zoltan gave her an incredulous look. “The queen is his grandmother. How could she give him away? What harm could a child possibly bring to you here?”
Neona winced. Zoltan’s objections sounded much like her own. “I know our ways don’t make any sense to you.”
“No, they don’t. You complain about men not being trustworthy and abandoning you, but you abandoned a baby boy.”
“I know! It nearly killed my sister. She cried for weeks. And then she was never quite the same. I don’t think she fought very hard at the last battle.”
“Damn,” he whispered, then took Neona’s hand. “I’m sorry.”
“It was wrong. I realize that now.” She gazed sadly at her sister’s grave, her vision blurred with tears. “I should have fought for her. I should have fought to keep the baby.”
“Don’t blame yourself. You’ve always said that men are not allowed here. It has to be hard to defy centuries of tradition.”
“I do blame myself.” She pulled her hand free as a tear fell down her cheek. “I am ashamed. I had to lose my sister before I started to question things.”
“Can you tell me what is going on here? What could be so important that your sister had to endure so much pain?”
Neona sniffed. “We have a . . . a sacred duty. I cannot explain more. This is the way it has always been.”
“But sometimes things can change over time.”
She shook her head. “The pact we made is binding forever.”
“A pact with whom?”
She winced. She was telling too much. Inhaling slowly, she attempted to steady her nerves.
“How did all this get started?” Zoltan asked. “Why are you so convinced men are the enemy?”
She wiped her cheeks. “It’s a long story.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
She studied him, wondering how much she should tell, how much she should trust him. “It began before I was born.”
“And that was when?”
She bit her lip, wondering how he would react. “Frederic estimated my age at over two thousand years.”
Zoltan sucked in a breath. “Okay. That’s about what I figured.”
“You did? How?”
His mouth curled up on one side. “I’m seemingly intelligent. And may I say you’re looking quite well for your age.”
“Does it disturb you?”
He snorted. “I’m the last person on earth who thought he would fall for an older woman.” He stiffened suddenly with an alarmed look. “If you leave here, will you turn into a two-thousand-year-old corpse?”
“No. I would start to age naturally.”
He exhaled a gust of air. “That’s a relief. Then you could leave with me.”
“No!”
He grabbed her hands. “Why not? You know we belong together.”
“I told you. We have a sacred pact. I must remain here to fulfill my duty.”
“Which is?”
She winced. “I cannot say.”
With a groan, he released her hands and fell back onto the ground.
She looked around to make sure no one was in sight.
“Fine,” he mumbled. “Then I’ll stay here with you.”
She twisted to face him. “You cannot. It’s not safe—”
“Dammit.” He glared at her. “You make it really hard to court you.” When she smiled, his eyebrows rose. “Is that amusing?”
Her smile widened. “I cannot help it. I like the way you refuse to give up on me.”
His eyes twinkled with humor. “Then you’re in luck, for you won’t find a more stubborn man than me. I never give up.”
“I see you are modest, too.”
“Damned straight.” He stretched and placed his hands behind his head. “Tell me how it started.”
“What started?”
“How you all became a cult of man-hating warrior women in the middle of nowhere.”
“I don’t hate you.”
“You tried to kill me a few times.”
“That was unfortunate.”
“Why?” His mouth twitched. “Because you failed?”
She shrugged. “The night is still young.”
“You little—” He pulled her down onto her back and leaned over her. When she smiled up at him, he smiled back. “You’re my man-hating warrior woman, and don’t forget it.”
She touched his cheek. “I won’t.”
“Good.” He kissed her nose, then lay beside her, gathering her up into his arms. “So tell me the story.”
“All right.” She turned to gaze up at the stars. “Many centuries ago men began making swords of iron and killing each other to gain land and power. There was a maharaja in what is now northern India. His army took over great portions of India, Pakistan, and Nepal, killing and destroying, showing no mercy. The more land and power he acquired, the more ruthless he became. People in the surrounding territories quaked in fear that his army would turn on them next. Villages sought to appease him by sending their most beautiful maidens to him to be his concubines.”
“Did it work?”
Neona shrugged. “If the concubine pleased him, he would allow her family to live. Three young maidens were sent to him. One from India, one from Nepal, and one from Tibet. In their fear and despair, they turned to each other and became friends. After the maharaja raped them, they were distraught and failed to fawn over him. He killed their families and let them be used by his guards.”
Zoltan grimaced. “What an ass.”
“It became even worse. The maharaja died in battle, and his son and heir decided some of his father’s concubines should be executed at the funeral as a human tribute. The three maidens were among those who were chosen.”
“Shit.” Zoltan sat up. “What happened to them?”
She sat up, too. “They escaped.”
“Yes!” He punched the air.
She smiled, enjoying how engrossed he was in the story. “They went north into the mountains, hoping to lose the soldiers who were tracking them. The one from Nepal knew how to cross the mountains, and then the one from Tibet took over. They found this valley of Beyul-La and swore never to trust men again.”
“Are they still alive?”
Neona sighed. “Only one. My mother, Queen Nima. She was the one from Tibet who found this hidden valley. Eventually, she mated with a Greek soldier and gave birth to Minerva and me, but it was done out of necessity. I don’t think she ever recovered from the abuse she suffered at the hands of the maharaja.”
“Who were the others?”
Neona pointed to the last burial mound on the left. “Anjali was the maiden from northern India. She mated with a Greek soldier to have Calliope, then a Roman soldier to have Lydia. Tashi, Winifred, and Freya are her granddaughters.”
“And the third one? The one from Nepal?”
Neona pulled her knees up and hugged them. “We don’t like to talk about her.”
“Why not?”
“She fell in love and left us. The queen warned her that men cannot be trusted, that her lover would betray her. And he did. He let her die a terrible death.”
Zoltan sucked in a long breath. “What was her name?”
“Dohna.”
“Donna Maria,” he whispered.
Neona looked at him. He seemed awfully pale. “Are you all right?”
He nodded. “I think I was meant to come here. All those years of searching, and I’m finally here. With you.” He turned to her and took her gently by the shoulders. “You are the one I’ve been waiting for. I’m falling in love with you.”
Her breath caught. “Zoltan—”
“Neona.” He cradled her face in his hands. “Do you love me?”
Her eyes filled with tears. “It’s impossi—”
“If you love me, then nothing will be impossible.”
“I . . . I want to believe you.”
“Then do.” He kissed her brow. “Believe me.” He kissed her nose. “Trust me.” He kissed her mouth. “Love me.”
With a cry she threw her arms around his neck.
“Neona.” He hugged her tight, then nuzzled her face, trailing kisses along her cheek till he reached her mouth.
She opened for him, welcoming him, stroking his invading tongue. How could she ever give him up? He was all her heart had ever longed for, all her mind had ever dreamed of, all her body had ever ached for.
“Unhand her! Now.”
Neona jolted at the sound of her mother’s voice.
“You’re surrounded.” Nima stood behind them in the woods, her sword drawn.
Neona looked around frantically. Winifred was to one side, Freya to the other, and both had arrows cocked and aimed at Zoltan. Lydia was downhill, between them and the burial mounds, her bow and arrow ready. At this short distance, none of them would miss.
Panic seized Neona. “No!”
Zoltan squeezed her shoulders. “Stay calm.”
“Release her and move away!” Nima yelled. When he lifted his hands and scooted back, she motioned to Lydia. “Kill him.”
“No!” Neona threw herself in front of him just as the arrow was released. Zoltan grabbed her and twisted, putting his back to Lydia.
His body stiffened as the arrow struck. He fell forward on top of Neona, a hissing sound escaping from his mouth. He grimaced, and for a flash of a second, fangs sprang out before he clamped his mouth shut.
Neona gasped. Had she really seen that? She searched his face but only saw pain in his eyes.
He grunted with more pain as Freddie and Freya yanked him to his feet. Freddie tied his wrists together while Freya looped a rope around his neck. They pulled him back into the moonlit clearing, closer to the burial mounds.
Neona gasped at the sight of the arrow protruding from his back and the dark stain of blood spreading down his jacket. Lydia cocked another arrow, aimed at his chest. Nima walked toward him, her sword pointed at him.
Neona scrambled to her feet. She had to stop them somehow. But did he really have fangs? Was he some kind of monster?
“How do you do? I am Zoltan—”
“Did I say you could talk?” Nima poked him with her sword.
“Don’t hurt him!” Neona ran toward them. Maybe she’d imagined the fangs. It had happened so fast. And it was dark.
Nima scoffed. “Have you lost your senses? This man has seen our valley. He will die tonight.”