Page 43 of Her Soul for a Crown

“This will be the last time,” Anula said, tightening her sari as she led Kama and Bithul through the Pleasure Gardens to the Kattadiya cave entrance.

The truth about the day she’d lost everything rattled her bones.

Wessamony was the culprit. The three names at the top of her list were mere pawns.

Selfish and guilty for the parts they’d played, yes, but pawns.

A new name was atop her list now, and the only way to bring him to justice was through Reeri.

With him, her bargain would be complete and so would her purpose.

She’d punish the one responsible for Thaththa’s and Amma’s deaths, while taking the throne to lead Anuradhapura as the first raejina, marking the end of the Age of Usurpers and initiating a new age for peace and protection for all people, as Auntie Nirma had wanted.

Anula had no need of the Kattadiya now. Returning to the caves any longer would waste precious time. The Festival of the Cosmos was in a week and a half, starting with the day of the Maha Equinox.

To think she’d gone so long without knowing the truth, that she and the Yakkas sought the same thing.

Her palm tingled, directly where Reeri had shaken her hand when they became allies.

His grip was strong and callused. A worker’s hand.

Nothing like she’d expected. Nothing about Reeri was, not even the shadow that hovered behind his stolen eyes.

She’d half expected for it to appear, like smoke sliding through fabric, twining along her fingers, grasping her the way it had in the shrine with their first bargain.

Instead she’d seen his thoughts, his idea that they were both defenders of their families.

She’d eyed him, his broad frame and soft muscle covered in dark curly hair that ran from chest to knuckle.

She hadn’t forgotten that Kama said this body resembled Reeri’s true form.

Nor had she forgotten his shadow: the square jaw and full lips, the softness, even in wisps.

Only the saffron eyes were missing. When would she look into those again?

“If this is the last time we jaunt together,” Kama said, trailing her fingers through flower bushes, “I shall receive my heart soon, yes?”

Anula blinked back the nonsensical thoughts. “Yes.”

“Do you have someone in mind?”

Bithul flicked her a questioning gaze. She ignored it. “Don’t worry. My list of enemies seems as fertile as these gardens—a new bloom every day. You’ll have your heart.”

Kama pouted. “You mean that you shall have their heart.”

“What?”

Kama pressed a finger on Anula’s chest, drew a circle, as if carving out her heart. “You must take it and offer it to me. Alive and beating.”

Bithul gaped. Anula’s mouth dried. “And you wonder why people fear you?”

Kama smiled. “Sheer the skin, break the bone, and hull the heart. So…what’s their name?”

“Does it matter?”

“Why would a name not matter, when a life does?”

Before, Anula would have bristled, judged her not as the Yakka of Lust but of Bloodlust. But now…they shared one enemy. Why not two?

“Dilshan,” Anula answered. She paused at the bush where they usually split off. “His name is Dilshan.”

Bithul frowned. She ignored that look, too, and dove into the brush.

“May the Divinity of Luck be with you,” Kama sang.

Anula wasn’t sure if she needed it more for what she did now or for what she’d do for Dilshan’s heart.

Down the stairs and through the tunnels, Anula wove past the Divinities’ statues, star-filled eyes forever pursuing her, silently judging, as though they knew what she’d just promised and they could shame her out of it. They couldn’t.

At the third convergence, Anula placed a hand over Guruthuma Thilini’s, the act now second nature.

The portrait of the first guruthuma in history bowed to her in recognition, a demure smile forming, as though she were genuinely happy to see her.

As if they were friends. Was that kindness a mask of the Kattadiya, too?

It wasn’t as though all monsters came with fangs and claws.

The whisper of portraits crawled across her skin as the guruthuma led her deeper still, until the line of torches died off. Anula shivered. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were taking me to my death.”

Guruthuma Thilini said nothing.

“Though there’s something to be said of the strong, silent types, they aren’t my favorite,” Anula jested, trying to get the portrait to speak. It was too quiet underground.

A torch suddenly flamed to life, illuminating a broken mask half embedded into an iron door. Anula startled, clutching her necklace. “Premala’s in there?”

The guruthuma nodded and deserted her to the cold.

Anula pushed open the heavy door and found herself staring into the most expansive room she had ever seen.

The amphitheater could have easily fit the entire court inside, including the concubines and a good portion of the army, too.

Unlike the rest of the tunnels, these walls were smooth, as if polished by a craftsman, and the stone tiers glinted in the light of a hundred torches, which led down a set of stairs.

Anula’s gaze followed the line, past a host of angry women gathered on the last two tiers, to the floor where Guruthuma Hashini sheared the hair off a naked woman and shoved her into a pit, the focal point of the whole room.

The guruthuma sneered down at the woman, whose cries bounced off the walls.

She lifted a stone and aimed at her, catching her on the shoulder and drawing blood.

The woman held in a cry and curled in on herself.

Anula shuddered as one by one, the Kattadiya rose from their seats, picked up stones, stood at the edge of the pit, and threw.

“Anula.”

“ Cursed Yak —” Anula jumped.

Premala reached out a flailing hand. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I—what in the cursed cosmos is this?”

“Shh!” Premala clapped a hand over Anula’s mouth, pushed them back through the door, and whispered, “You can’t be here. It’s a denouncement.”

Anula tore from the girl’s grip. “That explains so much.”

“Mayra is a caster. Guruthuma Hashini tasked her to perform a tovil ceremony, but she broke the blood oath by showing mercy to a bargainer, and now she pays the price. Stripped of Heavenly blessing, she must bear the brunt of her sisters’ pain for her abandonment and be banished from the city and from all ties with the Kattadiya.

” Though Premala’s words shook with faith and fealty, her eyes shook with fright.

“Showing mercy?”

“We found the bargainer, thanks to a tip from a neighbor. The woman had been raped and fell pregnant. She bargained away the child. Mayra did not complete the tovil. She walked away to allow the bargain to be completed.”

Anula frowned. “What’s wrong with that?”

“I—it’s against our faith to ever bargain. No matter the reason.”

“I thought the Kattadiya did not act for themselves, only for the protection of others. Did she not act for the woman who was raped, giving her agency where it was stolen before?”

Premala drew herself up. “We do act in protection of others. We aren’t the evil ones preying on people’s pain, Anula.”

“Are you sure?”

“She took the blood oath,” Premala pushed. “It can’t be undone. Nor should it be. We are of the First Heavens, where your word is your word. There are no tricks. Only love.”

The sound of stone meeting bone reverberated through the chamber and into Anula’s chest.

Love did not demand blood.

If Auntie Nirma had known Anula would partner with this twist of faith, she never would’ve deemed her ready. Perhaps she shouldn’t have.

“Come on.” Premala tugged at her arm. “Since you’re here, let’s practice. I won’t be breaking any blood oaths.”

Settled in an alcove far away, Anula couldn’t hear Mayra’s cries, yet she felt them like a ghostly hand pressing against shoulder and knee. Where else would they aim?

Premala stepped up to a wall of masks, more cursed than blessed, and picked one with blood dripping from sharp teeth.

She bit her lip as she stared. “The Divinities of Truth and Refuge have blessed Guruthuma Hashini with insight to your tovil dance. She has begun to teach me the steps. If done right, it’ll not only save bargainers from the yolk of their bargains, but complete what the Kattadiya started long ago. ”

Gooseflesh prickled. “What did they start?”

Light sparkled in Premala’s gaze. “The Kattadiya are the ones who called Lord Wessamony from the Second Heavens to take away the Yakkas for all they’d done.

But, according to the guruthumas, it had been a last resort.

The Divinities had meant for the Kattadiya to be able to stop the Yakkas themselves, not just break their bargains or send them to their shrines.

They were meant to tear apart a Yakka’s soul. ”

“What?”

Mistaking her whisper for reverence, Premala nodded vigorously. “I know, it changes everything doesn’t it? If we—if I can perform this correctly, I will save you, wholly. I can keep you from ever being harmed by these Yakkas again.”

Anula’s lungs seized.

The masks in the memory-nightmares, she knew they had been the Kattadiya, but this ? Responsible for calling Wessamony, for starting the centuries-long punishment and torture of them all… Why hadn’t Reeri told her? What else was he hiding?

A finger of fear slid down Anula’s back. What else were the Kattadiya capable of?

“If I do this right”—Premala’s voice tripped—“I can save the kingdom.”

Anula saw her then, a soldier terrified of her leaders and their judgment of her worthlessness. A soldier ready to prove them wrong.

But Anula couldn’t let her. “I command you not to.”

Premala blanched. “Wh—what?”

“I came here to tell you that I no longer require your help.”

“Y—you broke your bargain? Without a tovil?”

“The tovil is not necessary anymore.”

Premala’s brows knit tightly. “How did you get them all to leave?”

“Them?” Anula swallowed.