Good Morning, lovelies!

Thank you endlessly to Mel and Pamela!

XXVIII

BELLA

November 27, 1897

Calcutta, India

Despite the lead about the Indian prince from Dr. Banner, it is a week later that we are able to figure out our next move.

"Bella?"

I look up from one of the books Dr. Banner sent over for our research, rubbing at my tired eyes. "I'm in the study," I call back, hearing Edward's footsteps already coming my way.

My eyes lift to the doorway just as he appears on the threshold. There is a brightness in his gaze I haven't seen in a while, and hope slides up my throat, nearly choking me. "Darling, I think I've found something," he says, rushing into the room.

I set the book on a small table as Edward drags a stool closer to where I'm seated.

"Look at this," he says, producing a rolled-up parchment. He unfurls it in front of me, and I blink, trying to take in the details.

"It's a map," I say redundantly.

"Yes," Edward agrees. "But look here." He points to a spot surrounded by green. Just under his finger is a small marker with a looping scrawl beside it.

Immediately, the translator device implanted in my mind begins to work.

"It's a temple," I say, frowning. "A temple dedicated to Durga."

Edward nods. "Look what is beside it."

I bend over and examine the page further. There, hidden in the artist's interpretation of jungle foliage is a tiger, a single crimson tear sliding down his face.

I gasp, sitting up and looking at Edward. "This must be the place!"

Edward nods in agreement. "The man in the market told me that this temple isn't far from here. A trip made easily within a day."

I can feel my heart beating faster and faster. "We have to gather supplies. We must go out there at once."

Edward sits back, his face morphing from excited to wary. "Darling," he says slowly. "The wild jungle is no place for a pregnant woman."

I frown at him. "Mon cœur, this curse is on me," I remind him. "And I'm the one who can understand other languages." I tap my temple. "We have to do this together." Edward looks hesitant, so I reach out, taking his fingers between my own. "We'll be careful," I promise him. "It'll be okay."

Edward lets out a breath. "As you say," he agrees. "I'll get to work finding a guide and preparing supplies."

November 30, 1897

Calcutta, India

The next three days are a blur.

We are in a constant state of motion. Edward is able to find a suitable and reliable guide to help us navigate the jungle, as well as an armed guard to offer protection against any wild beasts we may come across. I'm not overly thrilled at the idea of traipsing through the jungle with heavy artillery, but it seems nonnegotiable for my husband.

On the morning of our departure, the air is cool, the sky covered with a layer of clouds that feels oppressive and ominous. I glance warily at the skies, praying it won't rain.

We meet our tour guide outside the city in a small village nestled into the edge of the lush jungle. Our guide is a tall, thin man with a wide smile that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle.

"Mr. Cullen." He waves happily toward my husband. "And Mrs. Cullen, I presume," he says, looking at me. When I nod, he dips his head in a slight bow. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, madame. My name is Farhan Chatterjee."

Before I can respond, he is straightening up, turning to motion to the second tall man beside him. "Ah yes, and this is the guard that you've hired as well. Mr. Bagchi," he says.

I take in Mr. Bagchi. He's far less happy-looking than Mr. Chatterjee, with eyes that are narrowed in concentration on the world around us. He gives us both polite smiles before he resumes his focus on the jungle.

Edward clears his throat. "Very good. Is everything set?"

Mr. Chatterjee nods. "Yes, yes," he says. "Let us go now. We have quite a trek ahead of us."

I let out a tight breath. Despite my insistence on coming, I'm wondering if I'll regret it. The thought of spending time traipsing through the jungle sounds beyond exhausting, and even though it's not hot out, I know at any moment the humidity can pick up and it'll become unbearable.

And it's not like I can shed my outer layers in exchange for a crop top and shorts.

Edward looks at me as Mr. Chatterjee turns toward the trees. "You're sure you're up for this?" he asks.

I let out a tight breath. "Let's go," I say, not answering him.

…

Mr. Chatterjee speaks almost the entire time we're hiking. He chatters to us, the trees, the birds; really anything that he can. His optimism is refreshing, if not bizarre, and soon I find it starting to grow on me.

The journey really is made easier by his happy nature.

About an hour after we first start, we stop to drink water from the canteens, and Edward has me sit on a large rock to catch my breath. I can feel sweat gathering along my hairline, but apart from being slightly winded, I'm so far doing all right.

Edward remains unconvinced and does not let us resume the hike until my cheeks are no longer flushed.

It is several hours and many stops later that we finally approach the temple.

It is in ruins now, the once-gleaming marble tattered and worn down by age. Thick coils of vines hang down the walls, some blooming with bright purple and white flowers.

"Here we are," Mr. Chatterjee says cheerfully. "The lost temple of Durga."

"Why do they call it the lost temple?" Edward asks. "If they know where it is."

Mr. Chatterjee turns his gaze toward Edward. "Ah yes," he says, nodding once. "Well it is said that this temple used to be holy ground, but one day, it fell under siege by a shadow." Mr. Chatterjee's arms wave around himself as he tells the tale. "The battle to save it from the darkness raged on through the night, but in the end, the temple was lost to the evil spirits who claimed it."

Beside me, Mr. Bagchi mutters something low under his breath, and I turn to glance at him curiously. He looks like he doesn't want to be here, like perhaps he'd rather be anywhere else.

Does he believe the tales?

I step away from the group as Mr. Chatterjee continues to tell Edward about the history of the temple.

I sense no evil here on these grounds, but that does not mean that there never was any.

To the west of the temple lies a large pool, the water eclipsed by overgrown moss and large lotus flowers. I eye it as I make my way around the edge, trying to estimate how deep it goes.

Behind the temple, the jungle has completely overtaken the architecture, with trees growing through cracks in the walls and bursting through the broken roof. Whatever order once existed here has long been lost.

There is a crack large enough for me to slip through, and I approach cautiously. When I don't sense any immediate danger, I wiggle my way past the stone, slipping inside the interior of the temple.

Almost immediately, the light fades away, leaving me in patchy darkness. My eyes blink heavily, as if trying to clear my vision, but to no avail.

Lifting my hands in front of me, I carefully feel out my surroundings.

With cautious steps and limited visibility from the cracks in the walls and the ceiling, I'm able to push my way forward, toward the center of the temple.

I am in a small room, an antechamber perhaps. The walls are narrow, and ahead I can make out the shape of an arch surrounded by tall pillars.

My boots scrape lightly over the dirty stone floor as I try to keep my breathing even.

The passageway gives way to a large room as soon as I'm past the pillars, and the larger cracks in the roof and walls here allow me to better see my surroundings. I'm in a massive domed room carved out of the same white stone as the exterior. There is a large statue of a woman with several arms sitting upon the back of a tiger at one end of the room, and I realize this must be Durga.

I incline my head toward her, feeling the need to honor her in this space.

"I'm sorry for trespassing," I tell her, quickly fumbling in my pockets for some sort of offering. I have a mango that I hadn't eaten for lunch in my satchel, and I quickly pull it out, holding it in her direction. "I don't want to disrespect you," I tell her. "But I come seeking answers."

Through all my life and all that I've seen and lived through, one thing remained a mystery—I have no idea if there are any gods, or even if there is only one. I have no clue who has gotten their religious beliefs right and wrong. Countless scores of humans have slaughtered one another in the name of their gods, but the truth is, there is never clarity about it. No one really knows anything, and from my perspective, it seems they are all fighting over the same idea.

I don't know if Durga is a real goddess who will exact revenge on me for not paying her respect, but I know I feel better for acknowledging her.

So I do.

I present the mango to her altar, bowing gently to her as I approach.

I set the fruit down and look up at her fierce face. "What would you do?" I ask quietly. "If you were me. What would you do?"

Expectedly there is no answer, and I let out a tight breath, turning from the altar. I start to make a sweep around the room, looking for some sort of clue, when a soft rustling sound meets my ears.

"I don't see anything yet," I say, eyeing a carving of a monkey on one of the walls. "Do you?"

I turn, expecting to find Edward, but my heart plummets, cold fear flooding my body when it is not my husband standing across the room.

The tiger is massive, easily over five hundred pounds. His paws alone look like they'd be bigger than my face.

"Oh god," I whisper, my body going rigid.

The tiger stares at me hungrily, his large teeth flashing as he licks at his lips.

I want to close my eyes, but I don't dare.

The tiger's head tilts, like he's assessing me, and I suck in a sharp breath, my hand coming up to cradle my stomach.

"Please," I breathe, my voice so low I'm not actually sure I'm speaking out loud. "Please, not like this."

The tiger takes a step, his head lifting slightly as he sniffs at the air. He turns toward the altar where I've left the mango, and I watch in quiet terror as he sniffs it again.

When the tiger turns back to me, a strange feeling of peace comes over me, and I straighten up, my fear ebbing away like the tide.

There is something so … human in the tiger's eyes. Something akin to … respect.

"I am not here to intrude," I say, feeling the buzz in my skull letting me know that my words are coming out in a different language. "I am not here to make trouble," I say again. "I come seeking help."

The tiger stares at me, and for a horrible moment, I fear I've made the wrong judgment call.

"Please," I choke. "My daughter needs help." There is an edge of raw emotion in my voice, a sound so close to unhinged that I snap my lips together, trying to keep the rest of my feelings lodged deep inside of me.

The tiger rolls his head, and then like a shimmering mirage, the beast is standing on two legs, fur melting away to bronze skin.

The man is tall and powerful and utterly naked as he stands before me, his bright eyes wary and assessing.

"It's you," I whisper, my throat dry. "Prince Arjun."

He flinches, as if the title is an old wound. "It has been a very long time since someone has used that name," he says, his voice deep and rich.

I swallow hard. "I need your help."

Prince Arjun looks at me, scowling so deeply it's difficult to know what he's thinking. Finally, he nods once.

"You have entered the temple of the goddess," he says, holding his hands up. "And brought her an offering." He motions toward the fruit. "She has deemed you worthy to find me."

I lick my lips, wondering if that means he will help me.

"I am cursed," I tell him.

He takes a step toward me, a wildness in his eyes that still makes me a little uneasy.

"No, Great Lady," he says, shaking his head. "There is no curse upon you."

I frown. "There is. And it will be inherited by my child if I do not find a way to break it."

"The tiger sees his own stripes and calls them a curse for their ability to hide him," he says absently.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I demand.

He takes several steps toward me until I can feel the raw heat radiating off his bare skin. He reaches up, one finger touching my cheekbone. "Do not mistake gifts as burdens."

"Gift?" I scoff. "This is no gift!"

I can feel hot tears burning my eyes as I speak, and I blink, tearing my face away from his grasp. "I have lost everyone I've ever loved. I need to end this curse before I lose anyone else."

Prince Arjun lets out a weary sigh. "Sometimes, it is better to be alone," he muses.

"No," I say, spinning to face him. "No, I used to think so too, but now I know that it is not true. It is better to be with your loved ones, to have family and friends and a life that progresses in a simple and natural way." Tears are streaming down my cheeks as I speak. "I would trade anything to give my child that life."

Prince Arjun frowns. "But that is not your life to give," he argues quietly. "You who walk between worlds"—he waves a hand over me—"your legacy lies in your blood and is no more changeable than the color of your eyes."

Fresh tears well and I blink hard, despondent to hear him say there is no hope. No cure.

"Please," I croak. "There must be something, please."

"Your mother is seeking you," he says, his head tilting as if he's listening to some far-off sound. "She wants you back."

I blink, momentarily startled out of my tears. Maman?

I open my mouth to ask him what he means, but he shakes his head, his eyes closing. He lifts his hands to his head, as if there is so much noise he can't think straight.

Aside from our breathing, the temple is silent.

"You must seek her out." He groans. "You have been told a lie."

My heart squeezes in my chest. "What lie?"

He doesn't answer, his head shaking between his hands.

"Death is in your shadow." He groans. "The way is obstructed."

My eyes widen, but before I can ask him more, he lets out a ferocious roar and then fur is erupting over his body, his fingers elongating into claws as he transforms back into a beast.

He lands heavily on four paws, and I take a wary step back. He looks at me, shakes his head once, and lets out another roar; this one so loud it feels like it rattles me down to my bones.

Past his shut eyes, a spark of red slips down, and by the time it clatters to the ground, he is gone, bounding away through the temple.

I stand frozen in my spot, my heart racing as I try to process everything that has just happened. After what feels like an eternity, I let out a breath, realizing my hands are trembling. I take a step forward, but stop when my boots crunch against something hard.

Bending down, I pick up the ruby that fell from the tiger's eye. It is a large raw gem, and despite the rough edges of it, it glistens in the low light of the temple. I curl my fingers around the ruby and slide it into my pocket, my heart hammering.

As swiftly as I can, I exit the temple.

…

Edward, Mr. Chatterjee, and Mr. Bagchi are exactly where they were when I wandered off, as if no time has passed. Edward looks up at me with a smile, and instinctively I know whatever happened in the temple happened without their knowledge.

Edward's smile falls away as I walk to his side, and instinctively his arm comes up around my shoulders. "My Darling, what's wrong?" he asks.

"I think I'm not feeling well," I tell him. "I need to head back home."

Despite the fact that we've only just arrived, no one argues.

It is a difficult walk back and takes us much longer than our trip out. I am exhausted and want nothing more than to sleep, but I know I must press on.

By the time we are back in the village and I am climbing into a carriage, I feel as if I could sleep for a hundred years.

"Darling, what happened?" Edward asks once we're finally alone.

I feel bad that I've given no acknowledgement to Mr. Chatterjee or Mr. Bagchi, but I just don't have it in me.

"I …" My voice grows tight. What is there to say? That our quest is useless? That nothing we do will change the outcome for our child?

That my legacy is nothing but sorrow and pain?

I shut my eyes, turning my head toward the window. I can't look at Edward, can't think about the words of Prince Arjun. Not yet.

"I just need to sleep," I tell him, guilt lancing through me as the words slip out of my mouth.

Edward sits back, and I can sense his resignation and frustration.

The carriage ride is awful, filled with a tension that drives the guilt deeper and deeper into my gut.

I should open up to Edward. He deserves to know what happened. But I just cannot summon the energy.

We are back on the streets of Calcutta when a flash of light brown hair catches my eye. My heart lurches into my throat as I stare at the distinctly European-looking woman.

"Maman," I breathe, my fingers scrambling for the carriage door. "Stop the carriage!" I scream, my hand slamming on the roof.

Edward is sitting forward, trying to figure out what is going on, but I shove open the door and fall out of the confines before it comes to a complete stop. It's dusk, and the streets are packed, but I don't care.

I push past the crowds, my heart racing.

"Maman," I wheeze, catching another glimpse of the woman.

She's too far ahead of me, too far away. She won't know who I am, so I can't call out to her. My only bet is to catch her.

A merchant selling silk steps in my path, and I lift my hands to brush him away. The bolt of silk in his hands is still attached to his stall, and as I twist, I end up caught in the fabric.

"No!" I scream, my heart racing. I struggle to untangle myself, and when I finally manage to get free, I break out into an all-out sprint.

I'm running too fast to see the donkey and the cart of large ceramic pots until it's too late.

The crowd lurches me sideways, and I stumble to my knees in the middle of the street, just as the donkey is about to step. It rears up, and the cart collapses on me, a pain lancing through my stomach and back before a second pain splits my head open and I lose consciousness completely.