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.