Page 38 of Her Soul for a Crown

Worry spiked Anula’s pulse. Was a tether considered alignment? “How can she tell?”

“For prayer’s sake, do you question all the blessed gifts like this?” Premala hissed, nervously glancing at the statues.

“Only the ones who might condemn me to an underground maze,” she snapped back.

“S-sorry, my raejina consort.” Premala stumbled into a bow, knocked her head on the wall. The portrait frowned. “It’s not my intention for you to die. If you could please just do as I say, the guruthuma—”

“Calm down,” Anula said, righting her. “I’m not aligned with the Yakkas.” Alignment meant mutual trust, and there was absolutely none of that.

“You made a bargain with them.”

“So did all those people you help.”

“This is different. They don’t come down here. You’re being inducted into the Kattadiya.”

Anula raised a brow. “Why?”

Premala gulped.

“Because I’m the raejina consort?”

“Please,” Premala squeaked. “I’m just an acolyte. My duty is to get you inside, if you are worthy.”

“Then what, all will be revealed?”

Premala slowly shook her head. “I only know my duties. I can’t say anything else.”

Anula tensed. She looked to the portrait, hand still extended, and back the way they had come. Perhaps she shouldn’t do this. Perhaps she was wrong and the relic was real; perhaps the next step wouldn’t take long and she’d have her completed bargain soon.

But what if she didn’t?

“Fine,” Anula huffed and placed her hand on the stone.

She half expected it to stretch, like the paintings, to swallow her whole and take her to where she needed to go.

Instead, she felt a prick. Small and quick, like a mosquito bite.

Blood bubbled on Anula’s palm. Then Guruthuma Thilini danced along the wall, disappearing around a corner.

“Thank the Heavens.” Premala’s shoulders sagged with relief. She pulled Anula forward, chasing the portrait.

Another tunnel, another corner, and the portrait paused at a door. It swung open, revealing a room full of terrible masks.

Bloodied eyes, bloodied mouths. Sharp teeth dripping with blue saliva and grayed flesh.

“What a beautiful gallery,” Anula murmured.

“Isn’t it?” Premala breathed, the sarcasm flying overhead like a bulbul. “Each is unique, used for specific curses, specific Yakkas, specific bargains. The first step in a tovil ceremony is choosing the right mask.”

“How?”

Premala’s gaze drifted slowly, teeth worrying her bottom lip.

“What, is this something else I can’t know?”

“You can. You’ve been deemed worthy by First Guruthuma Thilini and willingly aligned yourself with us.

It’s only… Well, Kattadiya don’t just help those who seek them out.

We can feel when someone has struck a bargain.

Their energy flows differently. Since going underground, the Kattadiya have honed ways to seek out bargainers, break bargains, and heal the cursed, without them asking for help. ”

The door clanged shut behind them.

“Then, if I hadn’t made the deal with you that night…?”

Premala swallowed. “We would’ve eventually found you, raejina consort or not.”

“And what?”

Masks and blood and shadows ripping in the night flashed.

“We aren’t the evil ones,” Premala insisted. “The Yakkas are. That’s why they were banished.”

A wave of anxiety swept over Anula. It’s what the stories of old told, but she didn’t believe them anymore. The problem was that she had no idea of the truth, of where the lies began and where they ended. If only a trusted ally could tell her.

“Is that why you work in the palace, to feel out any bargains made?”

Premala wrung her hands. “Part of it. I mean—no. I mean, I’m sorry, Raejina—Anula. I can’t tell you that. Can we focus? Guruthuma Hashini will be here soon to check our progress. The tovil is an intricate ceremony.”

Anula tucked the information away for later. Her suspicions had been right about the maid she’d met in the gardens, and now she knew there was more to the banishment, to the Yakkas and the Heavens. The weight of all the unknown pressed on Anula’s shoulders.

“How intricate?” she asked.

“Each ceremony is entirely unique.” Premala’s eyes grew wide, in excitement or anxiety Anula couldn’t tell.

“It can take days, even weeks, for a caster to prepare. First, we find the right mask. That’s my purpose for tonight’s meeting.

The candles and dolla offerings are determined by the mask.

Those can take time to gather as well. Next is the dance itself.

Though the majority of tovils are performed the same, the more complicated bargains require more complicated movements.

The guruthuma is in charge of that. The Divinities themselves give her the instructions; then she teaches it to the caster. ”

“You’re saying the tovil won’t be performed tonight?”

Premala bit her lip. “I’m sorry my raej—Anula—no. If we could just focus now, I will work night and day to have your tovil ready as soon as possible.”

“By all means,” Anula said, waving her hand at the wall.

Premala cleared her throat. “It’s not as simple as picking one at random. I have to know about your bargain.”

“How do they determine the mask for those who don’t seek help?”

“The guruthuma has a…conversation with them before.”

“Ah.”

“We can avoid that,” Premala said quickly. “Just tell me who you bargained with and for what.” She stared at the wall of gruesome faces, ready to grab the one that spoke to her, ready to hear Anula’s secrets.

“No.”

Premala blanched. “What?”

“I never agreed to tell you about my bargain, and I’m not going to.

” It was one thing for Bithul to know, a man vetted for his allegiance to the kingdom.

Premala was still in question. The Kattadiya, though—with their masks and their chants and their veneration of the Divinities—they were aligned with only themselves. Which meant they weren’t her allies.

“But without knowing, I can’t—”

The door swung open, and Guruthuma Hashini stepped through. Hands laced behind her back, she peered down her nose at Premala. At her empty hands.

“You have chosen no mask, acolyte?”

Fear widened the blacks of Premala’s eyes. “I—I don’t—I’m not sure if…”

The guruthuma sucked her teeth. “This is the simplest of tasks.”

“I’m sorry.” Premala bent her head, shoulders slumping.

Guruthuma Hashini took two powerful steps and slapped Premala’s face. The crack echoed.

Anula clenched a fist. “That was unnecessary. She’s doing her best.” Despite Anula’s own defiance. Perhaps she should’ve had Premala explain the masks, picked it out herself without having to tell her secret.

“Kattadiya do not act for themselves, only for the protection of others,” the guruthuma snapped.

No greeting, no bow. “There is no place for a simpering, spineless acolyte. Our obligation to the kingdom demands strength against those willing to place themselves in the darkness. Either she is worthy or worthless. And you, it does not matter to me whether you wear a crown or a banana leaf. You are cursed and so have brought a curse upon our kingdom. Interrupt the ways of the Kattadiya again, and it will be the First Heavens you deal with next.” She spat at Premala’s feet.

The girl’s lips trembled. “Choose the mask, gather the dolla, or return to the hovel from whence you came.”

The guruthuma marched from the room, door shaking.

“I see your leader is filled to the brim with Heavenly love,” Anula leered. Then it dawned on her, why Premala always checked over her shoulder. It wasn’t for the palace cook. “She’s the one you’re afraid will find out about your girl.”

Premala’s head snapped up in terror. “ Shhhh .”

“It’s all right,” Anula said, soft and low.

An image surfaced, of a woman kissing Auntie Nirma’s cheeks, staring at her as if she’d hung the moon.

But there could never be two wives. Not in this age, but perhaps the next.

Anula nodded to the walls. “Tell me about the masks. We’ll find the right one together. ”

“That’s not how it’s done. If I can’t even do this…”

“I’m the one making it difficult.” Anula clenched and unclenched a fist. Then reached out and squeezed the girl’s hand. “No one has to know. And you can get the dolla yourself. You just need the mask first, right?”

Premala nodded slow, seeing the value in Anula’s suggestion. She pointed at a mask with large streaming tears. “The Yakka of Lust…”

Anula listened, waiting to hear of the Blood Yakka. Eyes flickering to the door, she wondered if the stories of old had buried the Kattadiya for a reason. If perhaps the First Heavens had created monsters out of men.

Monsters more dangerous than the Yakkas.