Page 33 of Her Soul for a Crown

The image of the nightmare clung to Reeri’s mind all day, like stink on an elephant. The masks he could manage, but the whip—

You shall be the Yakkas’ tormentor, for eternity.

The shadow inside the raja ached to snap. He paced the bedchamber, staring at the shimmering heat just beyond the latticed window, the tremor of humidity clear in the falling sunlight. The song of cicadas welcomed it home.

Reeri tensed. Time was slipping by. Just over a fortnight was left.

The door to the chamber creaked open, and he spun, only to find the Yakkas entering. “Where is she? We were supposed to leave half an hour ago.”

“Impatient as ever,” Calu said, a smile widening his face. “I am sure she is on her way. In the meantime, I have good news.”

Reeri’s breath nearly caught. “Have you found the relic?”

“I said ‘good,’ not ‘great.’ I have received my essence offering. Truthfully, I did not expect to find a bargainer so fast, but a thief named Kushal was in quite a hurry for his neighbor’s memory to be wiped of the time he’d stolen from him.

He was so grateful for my quickness, I think if we still lived in our shrines, he might have hugged me.

” Calu pulled out a disfigured, cobbled elephant pendant and tied it around his neck. “Ratti would have been proud.”

Reeri’s hope sank, though he nodded, trying and failing to be as happy about Calu’s experience as he was—but it was not enough. He deserved a hug, a true connection.

Calu gingerly tucked the necklace under his tunic. “Have you received yours yet?”

Reeri slid an old perfume bottle from his pocket. Instead of jasmine it smelled of iron, and a deep-red viscous substance curtained down the sides.

“We are halfway there,” Calu said, then took a step back, assessing Reeri. “Why are you dressed like a mark?”

Reeri glanced down at his clothes. He had dressed like a palace carpenter, the very position Vatuka had held before Reeri made him raja—another incident of being too near the royal bedchamber at the wrong time.

Vatuka was shorter than the others, softer, yet not in the hands.

Those were strong and callused. He looked nothing like a person to be easily taken advantage of.

“I wanted to search unencumbered by guards tonight.”

“Of course,” Calu murmured. “Would not want to use your political power to aid us. Too unseemly. Vatica has a reputation to protect.”

“Va-tu-ka,” Reeri corrected. “We seek secrets, Calu. Those do not tend to be given to rajas.”

“Not willingly.”

A throat cleared as Bithul entered in plain clothes, weapons well hidden. Since he knew the truth of them, Reeri did not mind his presence. And since Anula had proven to be a handful, she necessitated protection—and additional supervision. “Are you ready, my raja?”

“I have been ready for an hour.” Reeri’s voice darkened. “Where is—”

Anula sauntered in, long tresses bouncing.

The tether sighed in comfort, and an urge to meet her in the center of the room rose high.

He would not soon forget the ire and passion that set her aflame—or how it stoked the cinders within his shadow.

Yet when her dark lashes lifted, hesitation bloomed bright in her eyes.

Mayhap after all the pain and death in their shared memory-nightmares, she too saw their similarities. Perhaps the bargain could finally function in its natural state now, with the two of them working together toward the bargain’s completion: a relic and a crown, for the price of a soul.

No passion or flames to speak of.

Anula broke their gaze. Reeri’s shadow pinched, as if he might miss the fire. She turned to Sohon, a small book in her hand. “Here.”

“Oh,” Kama squealed. “A gift.”

“A loan,” Anula corrected.

Sohon flipped the pages open. “Poetry?”

“Best read alone.” She winked.

Kama squealed again.

Sohon snorted. “Dirty jests. Why give this to me?”

“Stories for you to remember,” she said. “And enjoy more than once.”

As the three bent to read, Reeri considered their exchange, the ease with which Anula spoke to and jested with the Yakka with the sharpest edges.

“What, nothing for me?” he murmured.

She raised a brow. “I thought you only wanted my help and for my poisons to stop finding your lips.”

His eyes flicked to her mouth. Plump and red and deadly, smirking at him.

As though she knew his thoughts. Knew how he liked the press of bee-stung lips, the taste of them.

Knew he wanted to try again, linger and play.

He swallowed. She probably did. A window opened into their minds and hearts each time they touched.

Yet did she see what he had seen? When she had pulled him from the raja’s last body, he had careened through the cosmos before finding Vatuka and saw a small shadow creature cowered in the aether. Her soul.

Alone and frightened in a vast dark nothingness.

He had reached out, knowing from two centuries of experience how it must ache, but the distance was too far.

“Are you ready, my raja?” Bithul repeated, grounding Reeri.

He shook himself, adjusted his clothes, and glanced at Anula’s. “Where is your disguise?”

“No one will recognize the raejina consort,” she said, leading the way out the door. “I won’t even be in a rendering until I bear children.”

“Why?”

“Because”—Anula paused, meeting his gaze—“a consort can do nothing else.”

He held it, knowing to what she alluded. “Then let us not waste another minute.”

“I have never agreed with you more.”

***

Not all was the same as it had once been in Anuradhapura.

The tang of curry and sharp turmeric were eclipsed by a shadow stretched across the outer city. The wide irrigation reservoir sat in the city center, a sentry against the ominous dry seasons, when once the people merely had the Heavens to protect them.

Yet not all had forgotten that fact. Anula led the Yakkas down stone paths, past structures built to withstand monsoons, to the dense population sifting through the night market.

Pilgrims in varying states of poverty and finery marked the festival’s nearness.

If the humidity had not slapped Reeri with the reminder, each of their faces would.

Anula’s apology last night and her acceptance of the bargain the way it stood had come not a moment too soon.

He could not help his gaze from flicking to her back, nor the frown that tugged on his mouth.

He had bargained with many before her, but this was different.

They knew things about each other that no one else did.

Still, a question lingered in her eyes, on her lips.

A question that kept him at arm’s length.

Reeri split the group to cover the most ground. Sohon and Kama took the north, Reeri and the others the south. He would have preferred another split, but Bithul and Calu would not hear of it.

Anula barely blinked an eye at his command.

She had no problem greeting vendors in the night market; she flitted betwixt them, bought wares, haggled yet paid twice the agreed-upon price, and never faltered in her whispers of relics.

She handed Calu banana leaf after banana leaf of her favored foods.

Steamed buns, curry, aluwa. She lingered at stalls with elderly women, pushed passed men to speak with their wives.

Even when answers could not be found, she still left coin.

That, Reeri could explain away: It was in service to her bargain. But the book Sohon could remember? The food Calu loved to indulge in?

The hand that had reached across the bed? The voice that questioned the truth?

She wanted true knowledge about the Yakkas, not false stories of old. She had said it was important. Why?

Worse yet, why did it bother him?

He had what he wanted, what he required: a tether, a soul, and an offerer hunting for the Bone Blade.

All was going according to his plan. Now he must focus, before it was too late.

He should not dwell on the reasons she kept him at bay.

He most assuredly should not dwell on her fierce passion and deadly lips.

No matter how beautiful. No matter how taunting.

No matter how they sparked the oldest of his desires, to experience a certain type of communion, a certain aspect of life.

As if she had heard his thoughts, Anula’s gaze landed on him, her mouth half-open to eat a sweet. She paused, then offered it to him. “It’s called pani walalu.”

Reeri peered at the treat’s flower design, then warily at her necklace. “Did you lose a diamond in it?”

Her smile was sweet as hakuru. “It’s not the diamonds you have to worry about.”

He continued down the path. She snapped at his heels.

“Just try it.”

“Why?”

“I’m attempting to be nice.”

“Why?”

She huffed. “Perhaps this is my way of apology.”

Reeri halted. “Your last apology left a bitter taste.”

Anula crossed her arms and aimed her words at Calu. “Is he always as stubborn as a donkey?”

“Yes.” Calu laughed. “To be fair, you did poison him. Twice. ”

“I said it won’t happen again.”

“Why should we believe you?” Calu plucked the pani walalu from her hand and tossed it in his mouth.

She lifted a brow at Reeri. “I am true to my word.”

Clearly. Though not her intention, she had threatened to kill a human and nearly succeeded. “I do not want your pity.”

“I’m not offering it.”

“Then I see no reason for apology or forgiveness. Do not let it happen again, and let us focus on finding the relic.”

“Fine.” Her eyes flamed again. If it was not pity, why did she want the truth?

Not that he cared. Not that he should.

***

“Mighty Heavens, I love the night market,” Calu said, caressing a sword no doubt stolen from a great foreign warrior. “You can find all you desire here.”

“That’s yet to be proven,” Anula murmured.

Reeri grunted in agreement. They had been in the market for hours, spoken to a slew of merchants, and still had no lead on the Bone Blade or a relic hawker.

“I wish there were a night market for Yakkas,” Calu said.

“Why?” Anula asked.

Reeri shot a warning glance.