Page 37 of Her Soul for a Crown

The Bone Blade was small, barely the length of a hand, its hilt smooth and alabaster as an elephant tusk, the edge a sharp iron.

Anula flipped it over. If she didn’t know better, she’d say it was a mere knife, something given to a child before they were old enough to wield a sword.

Perhaps that was exactly what it was. She grimaced at the thought and the knowledge that this relic, or whatever it may be, was only the first step on an innumerable list.

Even now, after they’d witnessed each other’s pasts, the Blood Yakka didn’t trust her with the truth.

She had begun to believe him, to listen to the things he had said.

How could she not? She’d seen the masks, heard the chant, watched as a mark of Calu’s curse was torn from a man.

She understood the stories of old were half-truths.

Not in the way she’d always thought, but in the same way Anuradhapura’s history was glazed with a false veneer.

Usurpers had a knack for burying shameful facts.

The stories of old warned of the bloodthirsty Yakkas, who cared for the people in a balanced way.

One couldn’t have blessing without curses.

One couldn’t know happiness without first knowing pain.

She saw it now, the web the stories of old spun.

She saw the truth of the Blood Yakka. His care, his hurt, his burden, and his obligation to his people, just as he had seen hers.

So why not tell her the truth? Maybe the answer entangled with her other question: Why hadn’t Amma been saved?

Perhaps the Blood Yakka simply didn’t care for Anula.

Maybe because of her unfaithfulness or her jests. Either way, he didn’t trust her. He kept her off his allies list.

It stung, but she brushed it away. What was done was done.

If he didn’t want her to know the truth of his business or how long it would take to complete her bargain, so be it.

Thank the cursed Heavens for the Kattadiya and the missive they’d slipped behind Nuwan’s, requesting she meet them today.

Bargain or no bargain, Anula would have her throne.

“The blade is not merely one bone,” Kama said, sidestepping a group of travelers.

“What?” Anula asked, skirting around another.

The outer city was packed elbow to elbow, even thirteen days from the festival.

With the war waging heavier than ever and usurpers taking control every other week, it was no wonder the people of Anuradhapura poured in.

They arrived ready to pay homage to the saviors of their family, to beg and barter for that safety to remain.

“The bones were gifted by Fate’s devotees,” Bithul answered. “The stories of old say fifty men and women gave their lives, a bone taken from each. Leg and arm, head and chest, crushed and melded together. A sacrifice of life to stop death.”

“I wonder at their demise,” Kama said, eyes wistful. “Mayhap that very blade plunged into their hearts. Would that not be fitting? Love imbuing it from tip to tail.”

Anula recoiled, handing the relic to Bithul as they entered the inner city. “Give it to the Blood Yakka.”

“Do you not want to?” he asked, stars twinkling in his eyes as he slid a soft finger over the bone. Anula imagined he was one of those faithful counting down the days to the festival, his home full of offerings, his face turned to the sky.

“I want for him to complete our bargain.” She paused at the edge of the Pleasure Gardens.

At least Nuwan hadn’t put up a fight. Eyes as large as a banana leaf, he snatched the blessed gift, nearly throwing the blade to the ground.

What a way to treat a sacred relic. But perhaps that was all the sign she’d needed.

She pressed a hand to her skirt, feeling the crinkle of Premala’s missive.

“I have other things to attend to until then.”

“I will go with you.”

Anula lifted a brow. “You want to bathe with me? The courtiers would love that. Their handsome, sweat-slicked guard—”

“I’ll give this to the raja”—Bithul blushed—“and send in your ladies.”

“No, I want to be alone. Didn’t you ever need time to yourself when your dream of being commander was stolen from you?”

Bithul stiffened, darkness hooding his eyes. He knew what it was to desire something so close, yet so far. That specific ache of wanting, when all signs pointed to it never being attained. “Of course, my raejina consort.”

“Did you ever try to find another way?” Anula peered at the gardens, where the missive told her to go.

“My being commander is not important,” he said, brows furrowing, gaze alight. “The training of our young soldiers and the building of their confidence is what matters. Else they won’t return from the battlefield and the commander will have no one to lead.”

“But isn’t it more important to have the right commander, a good one?”

Bithul’s shoulders sagged. “Commanders have to make many decisions. Not all will be seen as good. That does not make him bad.”

She hissed, “And the burning of an innocent village? Does that make Commander Dilshan bad?”

Bithul blanched.

“Never mind.” Anula waved him off and headed through the gardens toward the bathing pools. Now was not the time to explain things.

The tether stretched, the memory of an itch crawling along Anula’s arms. She slapped it away. The missive had said noon, and it was well past. As she passed bushes of pink maha rath mala, the tether abruptly settled, like ripples fading in a water tank.

“Are you meeting a paramour?” Kama’s voice came from behind. “Reeri believes so, yet did he ask the Yakka of Lust?”

“What?” Anula spun.

Kama placed her hands on Anula’s cheeks. “You do not smell of lust. Intrigue, yes, but only in the morning. Why do you not explore your curiosity? The bed is a fine place to sample and savor. Especially while Reeri inhabits a body so close to his own form.”

Raja Vatuka floated in Anula’s mind. How he towered over her, how his heat pulsed like a firepit, how his chest hairs curled about the elephant marking as though it hid in the jungle brush.

Anula shook the image away, shook off Kama.

Cursed Yakkas, wasn’t Calu the one who poisoned minds?

“Why are you following me? Don’t you need to find your essence or something?

Won’t the Blood Yakka be wondering where you are? ”

“Won’t he wonder where you are?” Kama turned the question around, sighing dramatically when Anula frowned. “The blade rings of the Heavens’ call, so yes, my true essence is forefront on my mind. Mayhap that is why I follow you.”

“What does that mean?”

“I am in need of a heart.”

“Among other things.”

Kama cocked her head. “You are sneaking off again.”

“So what if I am? What if I do have a paramour? Do you want to watch?”

A fire caught in Kama’s eyes. “Would you allow me?”

“Cursed Yakkas, will none of you go away?”

“You have been in a foul mood since the morning.” A knowing smile curved her lips. “Mayhap Reeri needs to pay more attention to your satisfaction.”

“You’re right. It’s almost as if I don’t enjoy being lied to.” Anula turned to leave, but the Yakka grabbed hold of her, stepped close, and whispered low.

“Pleasure and pain may climax together, but what lover wants to see flesh taken from bone? I will follow you, stay the tether’s hand, ask no questions, and tell no secrets. If you give me a human heart.”

Gooseflesh prickled.

“Still beating, if you please. None of that poisoncraft.”

“Why?” The question shivered on the breeze.

Kama tutted, a finger tapping against Anula’s lips with each word. “Ask no questions, tell no secrets.”

The refusal surfaced. Her list had been crafted by Auntie Nirma. Years of research and information. Long nights deciding their fates.

But.

She glanced over Kama’s shoulder. A wisp of a girl waited near the corner of the gardens. Anula’s task was too important, Auntie Nirma’s goal too close. And there were dozens of names on the list.

Two at the top who deserved death.

Anula stuck out her hand. “Ask no questions.”

“Tell no secrets.” Kama shook on the deal.

***

“How much?” Anula said by way of greeting.

Premala scrunched her nose. “For what?”

“For you, darling.” She winked.

A flush raced across Premala’s cheeks. “Please keep your dirty jests to yourself while we’re inside, my raejina consort.”

“You can call me ‘Anula.’ And inside where?”

In the depths of the Pleasure Gardens was a cluster of rosebushes. Past the thorns and roots lay a wooden door, which housed a set of stone stairs, which led to a branch of underground tunnels, as warm and welcoming as a graveyard.

Statues, taller and wider than Anula peppered the dark, dank, torchlit space. One Divinity sat and one stood at the convergence of two tunnels, star-filled eyes pursuing Anula’s every move, and not with loving kindness.

Anula shivered as they ventured deeper; she wondered if the Divinities could truly see her or her tether to the Yakka in the bushes somewhere above them.

“This way,” Premala said, leading her through a throng of monuments to the far wall. She wrung her hands as they stood before a colorful portrait of a woman. It smiled benevolently at them and lifted a hand.

The hair stood on the back of Anula’s neck. “I thought all the blessed gifts were in the palace.”

“They are.” Premala’s gaze darted warily between them. “The caves were made specifically for the Kattadiya. Blessed for our Heavenly purpose. You only need to take her hand, and she’ll guide you to where you need to be, if you are worthy.”

Anula scoffed, eyeing the portrait’s yellow sari, her nearly see-through hatte, the tight bun that twisted on top of her head. “Must I beg?”

“This isn’t a laughing matter. If Thilini, the first guruthuma and guardian of the caves, doesn’t believe you are aligned with the Kattadiya, then I have to leave you here.”

“What, in the tunnels?”

Premala nodded nervously.

“I thought the Kattadiya protected the people.”

“From Yakkas,” she corrected. “And those aligned with them.”