Books by Maggie Shayne (317 page)

He couldn’t remain silent. He put his hands on her shoulders and felt the tingling jolt of that contact. Nidaba lowered her arms. “Natum?” she whispered.

“Yes.”

She rose slowly, turned to face him, and then suddenly, desperately, she flung herself into his arms and sobbed as if her heart had been smashed to bits. He held her hard, kissed her face, her neck, her hair. The ice encasing his heart seemed to melt at her very touch. “Gods, Nidaba, how I’ve longed to hold you again.”

“And I, you,” she told him.

He found her mouth, kissed her with everything in him, tasted the salt of her tears on his lips, and finally stared into her eyes. “Cry no more, my love. I’ve come to take you back with me. We won’t be kept apart any longer. I promise you that.”

Her expression changed. Her eyes widened just a bit, and her grip on him eased. Slowly she unwrapped her arms from around him and took a single step backward, out of his fierce embrace. “Eannatum, though I love you, surely you see now why we can never be.”

He frowned. “I see nothing but an enemy to be defeated. I’ll send my armies, and it will be done. It has nothing to do with us, Nidaba.”

“It has everything to do with us!” She closed her eyes, bit her lip. When she opened them again, she seemed calmer. She took his arm. “Come with me.”

They walked. Away from the scene of the battle, and all that carnage, far away, and up a hillside outside the city of Mari. Higher and higher they climbed, and though he plied her with questions, she never spoke a word until they reached the summit. Then, turning toward Umma, she pointed. “There.”

He looked. And his heart seemed to freeze in his chest. Beyond the borders, just inside the land of Umma, he saw hordes—more soldiers than he had ever seen in one place before. Thousands of them, camp after camp, as far as the eye could see.

“Your armies cannot hope to stand against those masses. Within months, Eannatum, Sumer will fall to the Ummamites. And more innocent children will die at their hands. More young women will be enslaved by their soldiers.”

“I’ll find a way,” he said, gripping her shoulders, staring into her eyes.

“Your father has already found a way.” She lowered her eyes. “I didn’t want to believe it either, but since coming here, I’ve begun to see the way things really are. Eannatum, Sumer will fall unless you can unite its cities. And you can do that only by marrying the princess of Ur and assuming the kingship of all Sumer. Then, and only then, will you have a chance to drive the Ummamites back and defeat them so soundly that they will not dare take up arms against Sumer again.”

He shook his head in denial, even knowing her words were true. “It’s you I love, Nidaba. How can I marry another when it’s you I love?”

“You have no choice,” she whispered, her voice growing hoarse. “I realized that after the third of these midnight raids that I witnessed. That’s why I took the initiation. I am a priestess now, Eannatum. And you are a prince. We could not be together even if you were free. I serve the temple. You, your kingdom.”

He swallowed hard. “We cannot wed. But we could be together. As king, it’s my right to have any woman I desire. It’s the law.”

“An arcane law. No king enforces it anymore, Eannatum.”

“This king will.”

She closed her eyes, shook her head. “You love your people,” she said softly. “I know you, Eannatum. I know you’ll do the right thing. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be the Natum I love so very much.”

He closed his eyes. In a moment he felt her lips on his, light as a breeze. “Good-bye, Natum. Do not forget me.”

And then she was gone. When he opened his eyes again, he saw her, running away down the hill, her white robes flowing behind her. It was a blade straight through his heart. But he knew she was right. He had his duty, and she had hers, and if they failed to play their parts, the blood of thousands would stain their hands.

Damn fate and all its cruel twists. Damn him, for falling so deeply in love with a woman he could never have. Damn the world, and everyone in it.

The tub was full, and Nathan turned the water off, went back to the bedroom, and slowly peeled the blankets away from Nidaba. She lay still, unresponsive, her face sticky. She didn’t look like a holy woman or a High Priestess, much less an immortal High Witch, just now. She didn’t look like the queen she should have been. She looked like a messy little girl trapped inside a woman’s body.

He knew better, though. He’d watched her grow from a child into a young woman right before his eyes. And what a woman she had become. He had seen her again, after she had left him on that bitter hillside. He had seen her on the day of his coronation.

He would never forget...

Nathan closed his eyes against the memories that burned in his mind and told himself to focus on the present, not the distant past. When he opened his eyes again, he forced himself to see not the sensual priestess he remembered, but the helpless, frail-looking woman lying on the bed, staring at nothing with eyes that seemed afraid.

“Forgive me, Nidaba. Even now, the memory of you burns in me as if it were fresh and new.” He ran a hand across his forehead, reconsidered what he was about to do, then laughed at himself. There was no shyness in Nidaba. No humble, blushing virgin in her. There never had been.

He rolled her up onto her side, untied the hospital gown in the back, then laid her flat again. His hands at the sleeves, he pulled the garment off her.

Gods, she was so thin. The drugs in her system must be slowing everything down, including the restorative powers of their kind. He could see her ribs, and her belly was concave. The bones of her hips and her collarbones jutted sharply against skin that seemed to have thinned. He peeled away the white underpants, tossed them aside, and slid his arms beneath her.

His palms slid over soft skin, and his body came alive, not just with the jolt of immortal touching immortal, but with longing. A hunger that should have died long ago. And the craving wasn’t in his body alone, but in his heart.

She was helpless right now. But she wouldn’t be for long. Not Nidaba. When she was herself again, she would be fully capable of destroying him utterly. And if he didn’t get his feelings under control, he would end up letting her.

He drew away from her, tugged the covers back over her, and contented himself with bringing a warm cloth from the bathroom and washing her face. Sheila would return with help. For once he was glad of her bossy ways and take-charge attitude. Sometimes, he admitted with a sigh, he needed to be protected from himself.

* * *

“Nathan! Nathan! Oh, Nathan, she’s gone!”

George’s frantic cries accompanied his feet clomping up the stairs at top speed several hours later. Nathan had been sitting with Nidaba, watching over her, reading aloud, talking to her about times long past, about his life today. Anything to pass the time. He’d made use of her bath himself, leaving the door open wide in case she should cry out or become afraid. It had been a quick bath. Exhaustion, mental as well as physical, had tempted him to linger in the hot water, to relax into its soothing embrace. His back and shoulders ached from the hours spent in the chair beside her bed. But he didn’t dare linger He bathed, dried himself, put on fresh clothes. He didn’t even take time to shave, because there was no line of sight from the sink to the bed where Nidaba lay, and he was sure something would happen if he took his eyes off her for too long.

There had been no significant change in her condition all morning, however.

It was after two when the door opened and George stood there, breathless and wide-eyed wearing a bright green pullover with a white tab collar and a chartreuse clip-on bow tie attached. “Nathan, she’s gone!” he said again.

“Who’s gone?” George was in pain. Nathan’s empathic tendencies brought that pain and worry to him as sharply as if it were his own.

“My dog! My Queenie, she’s gone! I took her to the fenced-in place, just like you said. And I put food and water out there, and I stayed with her for a long time. Then I thought she was getting bored. So I went up to my room to get her a ball to play with, and when I came back, she was just gone! Where could she be, Nathan?” As he spoke, George battled tears without much success.

Nathan was out of his chair and across the room before George finished speaking. He held George’s big shoulders, felt like hugging the man, who was more childlike right now than he’d ever been. “She’s all right, I’m sure of it, George. She’s all right, wherever she is.”

“But... but...” George’s eyes filled with shimmering pools that would flood at any moment.

“Come on, sit down.” Nathan led George to a chair near the window, settled him into it, pushed the heavy damask drapes open and looped the gold braided tie-backs around them. “Look outside, George. It’s a beautiful day. That dog is probably running around, chasing rabbits, having fun. There’s nothing out there that could hurt her. Is there?”

George looked out the window, his gaze intent. “Well... I don’t
see
anything that could hurt her.”

Nathan felt the big guy’s worry easing just a little, and he pressed on. “There
isn’t
anything. She’s a big dog, George, a strong animal. Besides, I know you may not want to think about this, but you have to consider for a minute that she might have belonged to someone else. Maybe she went back to her home.”

Innocent eyes searched Nathan’s. “Do you think so?”

“Well, she was a purebred Rottweiler, George. A beautiful animal. It’s hard to believe a dog like that didn’t belong to someone.”

Blinking, George pondered that for a moment. “She wasn’t wearing any collar. No tags.”

“No. Some dogs are pretty clever about wriggling out of their collars, though.”

“They are?”

“Oh, yes. I’ve seen them do it. Listen, you take my advice and don’t worry about her. Later on, when Sheila gets back with her friend, I’ll ask her to drive you around looking for Queenie. And we can put an ad in the local newspaper if you want.”

“We can?”

“Sure we can! Someone will have seen her. And even if she does belong to someone else, at least you’ll know. And maybe you can visit her. And if she doesn’t have a home, then we’ll find her and bring her back here. Either way, there’s no cause for you to be so upset. She’s a smart, strong, healthy dog, romping around somewhere having the time of her life. I promise. She’s fine.”

George sighed, his shoulders slumping in obvious relief. “Thanks, Nathan. I feel better.” He looked at the floor. “You always make me feel better.”

“I’m glad.” Nathan’s throat felt inexplicably tight.

“I think I’ll walk around outside for a while, see if I can find her.”

“Just don’t go too far, George. And stay out of the woods.”

“I will,” he promised. He got to his feet, glanced at the bed, then at Nathan again. “How is the lady doing?”

“Not much different than this morning, I’m afraid.”

“She’ll get better, Nathan,” George said, and he patted Nathan’s shoulder. “You’ll see.”

“Thank you, George. I’m sure she will.”

George smiled. “Did I make you feel better?”

Looking up, Nathan saw the hope in his big, innocent eyes, and he forced a smile. “Yes, you did, George. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Nathan.”

The sound of a car pulling into the driveway made them both turn to the window again. Nathan said, “There’s Sheila now, with her friend.” He almost sighed in relief. Gods knew, he needed the help. Just enough time to slip away for a shave and a bite to eat, knowing that someone was there with Nidaba, would be a blessed relief. Something moved in the woods alongside the driveway, and it caught Nathan’s eye. His first thought was that he’d spotted George’s precious stray running through the underbrush. But the shadowy form vanished. He watched, eyes narrow and searching, and caught one more glimpse of... something. But this time it looked like a person moving amid the trees, and then there was nothing at all.

A little shiver raced up Nathan’s spine. He gave his head a shake, told himself he was overtired, his eyes were playing tricks on him. Still, he couldn’t quite shake the ominous feeling.

“I swear, I don’t know what’s keeping Lisette,” Sheila said, pacing the room once more. She’d spent the past hour telling Nathan about her friend Lisette’s qualifications. She was an RN with experience in caring for the mentally ill, and she owed Sheila a favor. Apparently a very big favor, because Sheila was convinced she could trust the woman to keep quiet about Nidaba’s presence here.

“Give her some time to get her bearings,” Nathan advised. “She’s probably unpacking, getting settled in. Besides, your word is good enough for me, Sheila. If she’s willing to do the job, and you trust her, then she’s hired. I’ll pay her whatever she wants. Just so long as she does a good job.” He glanced into the bathroom, where he’d started running another bath for Nidaba. “Tub’s full.” Walking in, he shut the water off.

“She’s not the kind to dawdle, Nathan. I promise you that.” Sheila frowned. “I’d best go and check on her,”

“No need,” a woman’s harsh, raspy voice said as the bedroom door swung inward. “I’m right here.”

Sheila’s startled frown made Nathan wonder what was going on. He studied the woman standing in the doorway. She was small, slender, with silver hair in a sweptup style, and incredible skin for a woman of her age. Her eyes were vivid blue, and penetrating.

“Whatever has happened to your voice?” Sheila asked.

“I’m sure I don’t know,” she whispered. “It got this way only minutes after I arrived. I suppose I’m allergic to something in this house.”

“Until this morning we had a dog running around the place. Could it have been that?” Nathan asked.

“Ahh ... that’s it,” she rasped. “Dogs’ll get me every time.” Nathan smiled as the woman held out her hand. “You must be Nathan King.” He had to strain to hear her. “Sheila has told me so much about you.”

He reached for her hand, but she drew it back, looked at it, and shook her head. “Best not. If it’s not from the dog, then this thing could be catching,” she said, pointing at her throat.

“It’s very good to meet you, Ms ... ?”

She smiled and said, “Call me Lisette.”

“Lisette, then. I want to thank you for coming on such short notice. You’re doing me a great favor by taking this on.”

She shrugged, and he frowned. “But if you think you might be contagious, perhaps—”

“No worries,” she whispered. “I’ll use antibacterial soap and gloves with the patient. She’ll be in no danger.”

Nathan nodded, glancing again at Sheila only to see her still frowning at her friend in what looked like confusion. He wondered at that, but the woman was already moving forward, looking at Nidaba in the bed, glancing into the adjoining bathroom.

“I see you’ve got a bath run for her.”

“Yes, she’s in need of it. That is, if you don’t mind getting started right away.”

“Of course I don’t mind.” That sandpapery rasp scraped his nerve endings.

“I realize we haven’t discussed terms yet. I’ll pay you triple the going rate. All I ask is that you treat this patient with extreme kindness, be gentle with her, and see to it she has whatever she needs.”

The nurse’s eyes narrowed on Nidaba. “You care for the woman a great deal, then?”

For some reason, the question bothered him. “She’s ... an old friend. A very dear old friend.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. King. I’ll take
very good
care of her.”

He nodded as Lisette went to the bed, tugged at the covers, and then looked at him sharply. “Who undressed her?” she asked.

“She ... dribbled oatmeal all over herself this morning,” he replied.

The woman frowned. “Highly inappropriate, Mr. King,” she said, and pulled the covers back around Nidaba. She rushed into the bathroom and returned with a large towel, then she yanked the covers down again, and proceeded to wrap it around Nidaba, rolling her up onto her side to do so. When Lisette touched her, Nidaba jerked, and her eyes widened.

Nathan jumped, but Lisette held up a hand. “It’s all right. She’ll need to get used to me if I’m to help her. Now she’s ready. Carry her into the bathroom, Mr. King, and put her in the tub, towel and all. I’ll see to the rest myself.”

Sheila cocked her head to one side as Nathan scooped Nidaba up from the bed. She walked beside Lisette as they followed him into the bathroom. “I vow, Lisette,” she said, “you’re like a different woman when you’re working. If I didn’t know your face so well I don’t think I’d recognize you at all.”

From the corner of his eye, Nathan saw Lisette send her friend a smile. “I care very deeply about my work ... but you know that, now, don’t you?”

“Yes. Yes, that I do. But...”

“Hush, my friend. We’ll talk later on, when the work is done. Save your worries, won’t you?”

“Sure. Later on. And I’ll brew you up something soothin‘ for that throat.”

Lisette squeezed Sheila’s hand and sent her a warm smile.

Nathan stopped beside the bathtub, staring down at Nidaba’s wide, unfocused eyes. “Now, I’m going to put you into the bathtub, Nidaba. There’s water. Warm, but not too warm. It’s going to feel good to you, do you understand? There is no reason to be afraid, to be startled by this. No reason at all. This is good for you.”

He continued speaking softly, telling her how good the water would feel, as he lowered her carefully into the tub. She started, just once, when the warm water touched her skin, but then she returned to oblivion again and lay back in the water.

Nathan knelt beside the tub, one hand always on her, to keep her from slipping. He had everything ready and within reach so Lisette wouldn’t have to leave her alone for an instant and risk her drowning herself.

Where he touched Nidaba’s shoulders he could feel the sharpness of her bones beneath her skin. And her thighs looked so thin, so slight, below the towel. Had they even fed her in that place?

Anger stirred in his gut.

“Go on now,” Lisette said in that odd voice. “I’ll take care of her from here.”

He looked at the woman. Then he sought out Sheila’s eyes.

“She’s right, Nathan. Go on, have a shave, get some lunch. I saw the breakfast I made for you this morning, sitting cold and untouched on the plate. You need to keep yourself well or you’ll never be able to care for this one. You know that.”