Page 19 of Her Soul for a Crown

The raja’s chamber dripped with gold. It was as gaudy as Lord Wessamony’s court, a clear design of the Heavens. So too was it empty, a clear message of rejection.

The vast room suddenly felt tight, the air stale and confined. Reeri stalked to the windows and unlatched them. A star winked, signaling the end of the first day, reminding him how few he had left.

The fault lies entirely with you.

The shadow within him quivered. Anula had seen it immediately, the blood on his hands.

Her distrust was well placed. But, O Heavens, she was going to be a difficult tether.

Headstrong. Impulsive. Her large bronze eyes forever set in a challenge.

It was no wonder she was the first to offer a soul.

Nor was it a surprise she desired the throne.

Reeri glanced in a gilt-framed mirror. The crown suited this body, with its spikes of moonstones and rows of rubies. So too would it suit Anula, her dark tresses flowing around it, the earrings dripping beside her long neck.

Reeri paused. He should not dwell on her beauty. Hers was not the soul with whom his would commune but the soul he would cleave in two.

It was the only way. The Yakkas deserved their freedom.

His skin itched suddenly, and a strain pinched at his chest. Reeri scoffed at himself. His skin, his chest.

A small bulbul chirped on the edge of the gilt mirror. Its gold wings flittered as it moved along the branches of the frame. Reeri gazed into the reflection. His shadow writhed beneath. It had been centuries since he had seen with eyes, since he consisted of anything to be seen.

Chora Naga was a portrait of strength, a usurper of the highest caliber.

The mark on his chest stood vibrant against a plane of dark, thick muscle.

Scars crisscrossed his shoulders and biceps; one ran along his neck and collarbone.

Reeri had never had scars before, nor curls that bounced on his forehead, nor a mouth that turned down on the sides.

“This is not me,” Reeri said to the bulbul. It chirped in agreement.

Temporary , he reminded himself. This body would not be his next prison. Before long, he would have his own body. Until then—

Gripping the sides of the frame, Reeri bent forward, focused on the stranger’s face.

The bird squawked, ruffling its feathers.

Wading through his memories felt like trudging through a rice paddy field.

Jaw tight, he sifted for the familiar features.

The face he had used to call his shimmered beneath.

Part ghost, part shadow. A phantom of the cosmos. Reeri grasped it and pulled.

A square jaw bloomed, followed by a long rounded nose, and wide, full lips. Deep red eyes were curtained by thick lashes and heavy brows.

His face.

Sweat trickled down Chora Naga’s skin. Reeri did not blink. The bird whistled and flapped blessed wings in encouragement. He held fast to the image in his mind, dragged it to the surface. Chora Naga’s shoulders shook, muscles aching, and—

The ghost emerged.

It seeped out of Chora Naga’s skin, layered itself like a sheet.

He was there. In the lips, the chin, the cheeks.

The phantom of his life.

Betwixt the heartbeats that were not his, the memory snapped away. Chora Naga’s face returned. The enchantment gone.

The bulbul chirped at him. Reeri closed his eyes. It was pointless to waste time on a memory anyway. The thrum of the tether sang within him. The etching of a mehendhi elephant on his chest shivered. Its edges cracked his dark skin.

It reminded him of why he had come and what was at stake.

He could not allow Anula to venture too far, else the tether would mar her soul before he had the chance to use it. To perform the ritual that would bring to life all his brethren’s souls, which remained shackled in the cosmos.

Rejection or not, Anula must spend the night in his chamber and every night after. Until he cleaved her soul.

The tether pulled taut, yearning to snap each point together, as once upon a time his body had done to his shrines. Yet Anula was no Yakka, and he was no shrine. If they did not stay within a certain distance, the effect would be…uncomfortable. More than a little gruesome.

It was a warning Reeri had meant to levy on Anula, if she had only listened and waited in the chamber. Now he found himself hurrying through the palace, the tether dragging him around corner after corner—

A snore rippled down the empty hall. The tether flared toward an open door—the prophet’s door, marked by the same rubies inlaid in his pendant.

One peek around the frame and the tether fell calm.

For inside, drenched in moonlight, crept the raejina consort, footsteps as lithe and soundless as a mouse.

Grimacing at the old man in the bed, Anula bent over a low table and unstoppered a small blue vial.

She tipped the contents into a bottle of palm wine and—

Reeri grasped her wrist.

Bronze eyes flashed up, not a hint of a scream on her lips.

He tore the vial from her fingers, snatched up the bottle, and pulled her silently out of the room. If humans had vapor edges, his would be flickering. She wrenched free as soon as the door clicked closed behind them and marched away.

“ Wait ,” Reeri demanded, catching hold of her arm again. He glanced at the prophet’s door. “Has he wronged you?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Raja. I was only out for a stroll. Thoughts of you kept me awake.” Derision fluttered along with her lashes. “I was simply shivering with anxiety.”

“Do you always deflect with jests?” He dropped her arm, then sniffed at the vial he had confiscated. It smelled of flowers and early-morning heat. Where had she learned poisoncraft? Better yet, why?

Anula pursed her lips and tugged at a seam near her hip. A small bulge shifted. “Calling you was a mistake.”

Reeri’s brows knit together. “You mean praying.”

“I don’t pray.” She sauntered close and whispered, “I only get on my knees for one reason.”

“What is this?” Reeri ignored her taunt, plucking a piece of paper sticking out of her small pocket. Though blank, he could smell the taint of ink.

He held up the paper to candle flame, a trick as old as he. Names appeared, crammed from one end to the other. Prophet Ayaan’s was first.

Anula laughed. “Perhaps it’s who I wish to be with more than you. Or it’s all the men I’ve already been with.”

Reeri bristled. This was worse than speaking with Calu. At least he was honest. Anula was intent on making this difficult. Reeri handed the paper back, tired of wasting time. “Do not poison the prophet. He is necessary.”

If not as his Heavenly connection, then the knowledge passed down to him would be essential, if luck was on their side.

“Or what?” Anula narrowed her eyes.

“The bargain will take longer to complete.”

She tucked the paper away. “And the others?”

Reeri shook his head. “Are you so eager to become a murderess?”

Anula straightened, as if she could reach his height by sheer willpower. “Justice is not murder.”

“Says the slayer.”

With a scoff, Anula spun. Her hair whipped Reeri in the face. The sting was a welcome reminder that he was more than the shadow simmering beneath. He was corporeal, and before long, all the Yakkas would be, too.

It should not have surprised him that this offerer turned out to be a cruel woman. In all the centuries of offerings, it was either the power hungry or the provoked who sought to bargain for the throne. Anula was no different.

The notion settled any guilt over marring her soul. It was already misshapen. Jaw working, Reeri quickly followed her. She paused in the center of the corridor, scratching at the mehendhi markings that ran up her arms.

“What did you do to me?” she demanded. “Why does it itch?”

“It is our tether, and the consequence of it stretching thin. We must stay close. I was going to explain it all in our chamber.”

“ Our chamber?” She whirled on him. “Is this your idea of a jest?”

“I do not jest.”

“Thrice-cursed Yakkas. Could this day get any worse?”

Wessamony’s wicked grin flashed in Reeri’s mind. Bring me the Bone Blade by the Maha Equinox in four weeks, else you shall be the Yakkas’ tormentor, for eternity.

“Of course it could.”

Anula leveled a glare.

Reeri sighed. “We both need rest if tomorrow is going to bring us closer to the end of this bargain.”

“Fine. But stay on your side of the room. Touch me once, and you’ll find out exactly what’s inside that vial.”

She marched off. Reeri pinched the bridge of his nose. The Maha Equinox was nigh, he had to deal with her only a while longer; then her soul would be cleaved and he would have a new life.

Far, far away.