Page 45 of Her Soul for a Crown

Heat gently woke Reeri.

He sighed into it, inviting it to melt him further.

There was a time he could not remember the sun’s touch.

How it warmed him as if under a blanket of lion furs.

How it drew the tension from his muscles like poison from a snakebite.

How it weighed heavy on his chest, squeezed his forearm, drooled on his—

Reeri’s eyes snapped open.

Anula cinched her arms tightly around him, nuzzling his waist. A soft smile spread as she blinked up. A flush heated Reeri’s cheeks, and he wondered what those lips tasted like without poison.

“Now kiss him,” the blessed gift raejina whispered loudly overhead.

Anula jumped, tore away, and toppled off the bed.

“ Oh ,” the blessed gift raejina groaned. “You truly are not good at this.”

“They are a lost cause,” agreed the blessed gift raja. “Best wait for the next raja to choose another wife.”

Reeri let out a breath, cleared his head of lips and kisses, and leaned over the edge. “Your tincture worked.”

Anula popped up. “Right. Good.”

“Are you injured?” Reeri asked, eyes fixed on her face, not on the robe half fallen from her shoulder, nor the bare skin blushing pink on her chest.

“Unscathed as a brand-new irrigation tank.” Anula raced across the room. “See you in the archives.”

The door slammed. Reeri collapsed onto the bed, his waist suddenly cold.

***

Reeri flexed his hand.

The urge to touch Anula twitched. It was not from the tether, for she sat mere inches away. It was from the memory of the morning, the feel of her warming his borrowed body, reminding him of sensations long lost. Of the heat of life.

Her smile, her nose burrowing into his side, seared in his mind.

It had thrilled down his spine, stolen his breath, and addled his thoughts.

He had not even seen anything from where their bodies touched; he had been too wrapped up in the softness of her, the closeness, the press of her curves against him.

Books thudded to the floor, snapping Reeri’s attention to Calu, who sifted quickly through the stack of bound manuscripts on the low table, as if he had more important places to be. He tossed another to the ground.

A throat cleared. Loud and rough.

Sohon stood at the front of the table, dark red mehendhi peeking from under his tunic.

The archive was a vast room with three walls of shelves and one of windows.

Manuscripts of history, politics, and all else important to the knowledge of Anuradhapura were bound and preserved here.

Sohon’s eyes flashed to the Yakkas and Anula, seated and waiting.

“If you cannot respect the books, do not touch them.”

Calu huffed and held up his hands. “I hold nothing but respect.”

Sohon scowled. “These are the books I have written since we arrived, and some that I was able to gather with the former prophet’s help.”

Four sets of eyes flicked to Anula.

She crossed her arms. “What? Prophet Revantha seems just as adept—more so, as he didn’t ordain a village’s death. His reputation is flawless.”

“Therefore, his body is poisonless,” Calu jested, yet his voice was stone. “Let us hope neither changes.”

Reeri did not have a moment to question his brethren’s unusual tone, for a smile tugged on Anula’s lips. A hint of the one this morning. Yet it was not Reeri who had conjured it. He flexed his hand again.

“We must analyze the memories for anything important,” he said, passing her a book, cutting their conversation off.

“It is all important,” Sohon snapped. Clearly, all the Yakkas were in a mood today. “Stories transport us. All art does.”

“I did not mean that.”

“You implied.”

Reeri gripped the edge of a manuscript and amended, “We search for anything pertinent to the relic. Whether that be a story of a treasure seeker or a fabled location.”

The young Yakka grunted, curled himself against the far wall and plucked up a manuscript of his own.

The rest of the table followed suit. Reeri opened a tome.

It had been centuries since he had peered inside a memory book.

He had asked Sohon to explain his work to him, back when Reeri was the only one able to leave his shrine.

Even now, it daunted Reeri to hold the last vestiges of a life in his hands.

To not only know of a person’s life, but of their hopes and secrets and pains.

Anil Perera came into this world in the midst of a rainstorm on the floor of his father’s fishing boat and was forever enamored with the sea. Even the Makara, the sea dragon, halted its hunt, recognizing another monster descending from the Heavens.

Monster…from the Heavens. The words scratched along Reeri’s memory.

“Why isn’t Bithul helping?” Anula asked, flipping open her own book.

Reeri tensed. He had not mentioned the task he had given the guard. Yet after their deal, after seeing her soul mirror his, mayhap it was time for secrets to be shared. “He is looking for Nuwan. I do not want him selling more cursed relics.”

“Reading is a silent act,” Sohon hissed.

Calu sneezed. Phlegm spattered, dangling from one nostril. A square kerchief hit his face.

“I will end you,” Sohon promised.

“I did not do it on purpose,” Calu snapped back. Reeri’s brow furrowed.

Despite Calu’s irritability and Kama’s attempt to clean the book, Reeri was transfixed on Anula. She traced a finger around the largest jewel on her necklace.

“Is someone set to be poisoned today?” he whispered.

She clasped it. “No, I always wear it. It’s the last thing I have of my family, my amma’s most treasured gift. The jewels are from my thaththa; the poisoncraft is from my uncle.”

Reeri noticed the change in her cadence, the soft lilt. “And what of your auntie?”

“She taught me how to wield it.”

“You must miss her.”

She regarded him, bronze eyes searching. Worry snagged his heart, that she may find him lacking and snub the echo of their souls. “She also taught me about allies.”

Reeri’s mouth dried. Now was his moment to see if she felt it, too. If he could find the right words…but she gazed away at the stack of memory books.

“Are there any books about—” Her voice cut off.

Reeri heard the word anyway. “Eppawala?”

“No,” she said, her guard raised again as quickly as it had slipped. “Never mind.”

His shadow scrambled to stay close, and he tilted his leg to the side, brushing against her sari.

Yet the distance was still there. Mayhap if he spoke of the relic—if he explained how she would wield it to exact vengeance and justice upon Wessamony—she may not feel the need to raise her walls with him at all.

But that would mean explaining the process of how he had planned to call the Yakkas’ souls forth first, of how he would have used the soul she offered, of how cleaving it would have marred her soul.

He had already determined not to cleave it fully in two, not to allow all the goodness to seep away or leave her a carcass. He could do that, right? He held the reins, as Kama said. He could save the Yakkas and preserve Anula.

But if she did not trust him…she could refuse, or worse, recant.

“Ouch! Cursed blessings.”

The scent of blood floated on the air, dripped from Anula’s finger as she held it aloft.

“Paper cut,” she murmured to four pairs of Yakka eyes.

The urge to grab her hands seized him, the need to wipe the blood clean, mayhap with his lips. O Heavens, had one touch truly undone him? He bit back the desire and held himself in place.

Yet Kama did not. She leaned close, gathered Anula’s hand in hers. “Does it hurt?”

“Only slightly.”

Kama grabbed her chin. “Describe it to me. Does it pulse with pain? Does it throb with pleasure?”

Anula pulled away. “You’re insane, do you know that?”

“I am not.”

“Indeed, you are,” Calu said.

“We are all in agreement,” Sohon murmured from behind a book.

“Passion and insanity are two entirely different things.” Kama twirled a lock of hair, nodding to the book that had cut Anula.

Embossed in gold was the title Akshay’s Desires .

“I desire to set the world aflame. Burning with love for one another, lovers and friends, family and neighbors will face the anguish of the cosmos, opening their arms even to death. For love bears all things, faces all things, and wins in the end. My ministrations are good, you will see, for there is no line between beauty and pain. They encompass each other, consuming as they kiss.”

Reeri noted the fervor in her voice, the way she gazed into Anula’s eyes. It was not the usual coo of the temptress, the melody of persuasion, but the earnestness of vulnerability.

Anula inched from her grip. “The only way to prove your theory is to save lives. There are no good intentions that only kill, no beauty in senseless suffering.”

“Then that is what I shall desire,” Kama breathed, as if she too had been caught under Anula’s spell.

“What a desire,” Sohon sighed sarcastically.

Reeri bristled. “And what is yours, to drown in a sea of books?”

Sohon quieted, disappearing behind his manuscript.

Anula kicked Reeri’s leg. The bone sang at her touch. “Sohon should put his name on a book. Favorite authors are always remembered.”

A furrowed brow emerged atop the pages. “These are not my stories.”

“But you are telling them. You’re a storyteller, so perhaps write your own stories, ones you make up.”

“Like for children?” His entire head surfaced.

“For anyone.”

Sohon smiled, shy and lopsided, yet as real as the day he had finally left his shrine. Anula rewarded it with one of her own. Reeri’s leg stung anew.

“What about you?” Anula asked Calu.

He did not meet her gaze. Instead, he white-knuckled the page of his book, jaw working as he whispered, “I desire nothing.”

Reeri’s heart pinched. Yet, before he could respond, Calu bolted from the table, crashing through the archive doors. Reeri did not hesitate. He followed Calu down the hall, until the Yakka tipped to the side, the wall catching his fall, and slid to the floor.

“I cannot think of things that I desire,” Calu whispered thickly.

Reeri bent down. “Why not?”

“Because I cannot have them. I cannot have Ratti and I need her. I have tried, Reeri, I have. To connect with any of them, as she always wanted. But these people, this time…they are more wary of me than their ancestors. It is a Heavenly miracle that I made one bargain, but I have not been able to since. The rumors, Heavens, the rumors, Reeri. They speak of how risky it is to bargain with me, that I am a trickster, and now—” He choked off, face red and breathing hitched; a sudden flood of tears rushed down his cheeks.

They struck Reeri’s shadow. Calu had not cried since the day Ratti was taken.

“And now—now—I cannot—I do not have—”

Reeri’s heart cleaved, watching Calu suffer like this.

The one who had spoken to him in the aether, despite centuries of his shadows writhing and words lashing.

The one who always attempted to lighten the mood, his mood.

The one whom he had not touched since that day.

Reeri’s hand twitched. He fumbled once, then reached out and placed it on his brother’s shoulder.

Warmth spread under his fingers, and Heavens, he had not realized how much he had missed it.

Missed the connection, missed the comfort.

He squeezed Calu’s shoulder, aching at the thought that his brother felt the same: alone and afraid.

“It will all be made right. This will not be your final chance, and Ratti will be here to see you through. To celebrate with you.”

Calu snotted on his sleeve. “What if she is not? If one thing goes wrong, if the blade or the offerings—”

“Your fear is talking, Calu. Do not listen to it. Did Ratti not tell us that, too?”

Calu half snorted, half hiccupped. He wiped his face. “Easy for you to say. You fear nothing.”

If only that were true. Reeri swallowed. “I fear the day I will see our brethren again.”

Calu sniffled. “Why?”

“They may hate me or want me dead. I dread to see the blame staring back at me.”

Calu placed a gentle hand over Reeri’s, as if he already knew. “Despite the fear, you still work toward that day.”

“Of course. I love them, more than I fear them.”

“And when that day comes?”

“I suppose I will have to face my fear.”

Calu caught Reeri in a hug. The same hug Ratti had used to give him. The tightness holding him together, absorbing part of the fear. Reeri did not hate it.

“You have changed,” Calu said, pulling away slowly.

“Mayhap that is what hope does.”

“It is not hope. It is happiness.” Calu smirked, but it did not reach his eyes. “Be careful. We still have to cleave her.”

Reeri stood, anxiety prickling anew. “I know.”

“Good.” Calu wiped off the vestiges of his moment of brokenness. “Shall we face our fears then?”

“You first.”

Calu laughed. “Was that a jest?”

“Never.”

“Anula’s soul is already rubbing off on you.” He headed back toward the archives.

Reeri paused. Mayhap she was—all the good parts. The things he must protect. As he must protect his brethren’s second chance at life, their eternal freedom.

He could do both.

He would.