Page 54 of Her Soul for a Crown

Statues towered over Anula, their star-filled eyes forever suspicious, their knowing smiles mere smirks. Now she knew why. They gripped relics in their hands.

The Divinity of Justice held scales. The Divinity of Abundance bore a basket woven in gold.

The Divinity of Dreams restrained fish surging from its arms. Anula had thought them ornamentation, figurines, memorials.

She understood now. The relics were hidden in plain sight.

She only needed to find one, and if the statues were anything like the portraits, perhaps one would lead her to another.

Rising on her toes, she reached for a fish.

“What are you doing?”

Premala’s voice echoed off the stone, jolting through Anula’s bones. “Cursed blessings, don’t scare me like that.”

Premala hurried closer. “What are you doing?”

“Practicing the gentle touch with a statue. Want a turn?” Anula reached up once more. Premala slapped her hand away. “Ouch!”

“I—” she squeaked. “I’m sorry, my raejina consort. But you can’t take that.”

“Why?” Anula snapped. “Why did the Divinities give them to you?”

Premala blanched. “Y—you know? But why do you want a relic?”

“The better question is why are you hiding them when centuries of people have been harmed and killed in their search?”

“We didn’t kill them—their selfishness did. We merely did our duty.”

“Is part of the blood oath repeating your guruthuma’s words like a soldier?”

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

“I’ll take that as a yes. And the Kattadiya turned a blind eye. That is not helping people.”

Premala made a fist, her breath uneven. “Don’t judge what you don’t understand.”

“Oh, I understand perfectly.” Anula leaned close.

“But do you? Do you understand that the faith this kingdom was built upon has two Heavens? Do you understand that the stories of old never mentioned choosing sides? Never once portrayed one morally better than the other. Balance in the cosmos is the highest form of enlightenment, and the Kattadiya have discarded it all in favor of themselves. Why, because one woman claimed she’d been given a task from the First Heavens?

“And what has happened since then, Premala? Bloodshed. The Kattadiya help those who seek them, yes, but they also force others against their will, kill them if they can make a reasonable case. They demonize faithful practitioners of the Second Heavens, punish their own for acting in mercy, and allow stories to lead people to their demise. For what, Premala? None of that is for protection. Death does not save people!”

Premala’s lips quivered. “You don’t understand.”

“No, you don’t understand. Because you don’t want to,” Anula spat.

“You are a lowly fisherman’s daughter who has only ever been told that you are worthless.

And you believe it. You believe it so much that this place, these rules, this poisonous faith has you convinced that the only path to proving your worth is by following their rules.

You don’t want to see the truth of this place, because without it, you fear everyone is right: that you are worthless. ”

Premala’s cheeks flushed red.

“My, my.” Guruthuma Hashini stepped out from behind a statue. “A fearsome usurper you might have been, if you were a man and words were blades.”

Premala wiped at the wetness on her lashes. Anula straightened.

“Your commands were of no power here, so you resorted to theft?” Guruthuma Hashini asked.

“Consider it borrowing, if it makes you feel better.”

The guruthuma pursed her lips. “And what relic is it that you seek?”

“The Bone Blade.”

Premala sucked in a breath, but the guruthuma smiled. “Ah, the Lord of the Second Heavens has found another willing seeker.”

A chill passed over Anula. “Not exactly.”

“The Yakkas, then.” Guruthuma Hashini clasped her hands behind her back. “This is your bargain with them. A throne for a blade.”

Anula narrowed her eyes.

“You were correct that many have come seeking the relics. Many more for the Bone Blade. The Divinities warned us of it. Despite Fate’s demise, the Lord of the Second Heavens has never given up his plot.”

“What?” Premala asked.

“Fate killed Destiny with their relic,” Anula said. “The Divinities banished them and then cast the relics here. Did your precious Kattadiya not tell you?”

Premala glanced at Hashini, who merely replied, “There are things only guruthumas are told. But you’re missing the full truth.

Wessamony was the one who convinced Fate to act.

He claimed they could rule together, only the pair of them.

I have no doubt that Wessamony would have eventually turned against Fate, had their plan not gone awry.

His tenacity in finding the relic after all these years proves it.

It is why the Divinities tasked us with hiding it, to keep it safe, not only from the selfishness of humanity but from the Second Heavens.

The Kattadiya do not act for themselves, only for the protection of others. ”

Premala blinked. Anula held her breath. This was it, she’d see the manipulation now, and when she did, they’d act together. Grab the relic and run.

“You were going to give it to the Lord of the Second Heavens?” Premala asked, blind as ever.

Anula sighed. “No. The Yakkas have come to end Wessamony, to save the Heavens and the Earth from his plans.”

The guruthuma scoffed. “Lies.”

“If you believe your own story, then the Yakkas are innocent. They have nothing to do with it. They aren’t a threat.”

“Of course they are!” she snapped. “They drenched this ground with blood and will do so again when their Lord reigns supreme.”

Anula raised a brow. “Isn’t it the Kattadiya who drench the earth in blood now? Denouncements and tovils—”

“Ensure our protection,” the guruthuma shouted. “They are the work of our Divine task: to rid the Earth of the threat of the Second Heavens.”

“Rid? But then there will only be one.”

“Exactly,” Guruthuma Hashini hissed.

Anula blanched and looked to Premala, but the girl had gone rigid.

A soldier in stance before her commander.

Faithful and true. Dread drew a finger down Anula’s spine.

“It was never about saving people from curses and death, was it? The Kattadiya have always been working toward one goal, one tovil. The one that would end the Yakkas, once and for all.”

Guruthuma Hashini stepped closer, placed a heavy hand on Premala’s shoulder. “The Lord of the Second Heavens created the Yakkas for a purpose, as the Divinities created us for a purpose. One unbalanced the cosmos; the other will right it.”

Premala lifted her gaze. Anula willed her to see, to open her eyes.

These people were not going to right the cosmos; they were the ones seeking imbalance.

They were the ones hurting people. But Premala had eyes only for her guruthuma.

For her perceived salvation. She wanted worth, no matter the blindness.

“It is time, acolyte. Enact the blood oath.” Guruthuma Hashini grabbed Premala’s hand and placed it against the wall where Guruthuma Thilini waited silently. When their hands touched, a small light sparked, and dark red liquid streaked down Premala’s fingers.

Anula shifted backward. “No.”

It couldn’t happen now, not when they were so close. Not when the tovil would tear Reeri apart. She couldn’t bring them back from that, couldn’t make another bargain for him to return, couldn’t even warn him.

Premala cleared her throat. Anula retreated farther, finding the statue at her back.

“Say it,” Guruthuma Hashini hissed.

“No,” Anula pled again. “Wait. You don’t have to do this. You don’t need this place. They want to destroy part of the Heavens. You can’t believe—”

“Stop,” Premala whispered.

“You aren’t worthless, Premala. Come with me. We will still save the kingdom, but not like this.”

“Stop.”

“Don’t let this place fool you. Don’t let them make you a monster.”

“Stop!” Premala snapped. “Why do you care if I am a Kattadiya?”

“Because they’re wrong! They’re cruel. You deserve better than this.”

“No. You care because I’m in your way. If I hadn’t been the one to show you that first tovil, would you have ever sought me out again?”

“I checked on you in the kitchens.”

“Because you caught me in the gardens. Because you thought I was part of another usurper’s plan.”

Anula didn’t deny it.

“You were never my friend, Anula. You only ever wanted to know that I wasn’t your enemy. And now that I am, you want to stop me.”

Anula’s gut twisted. She had never been taught how to be a friend. “I see you, Premala. You are not my enemy, but you’ve been sold a lie.”

“Bring them.” Premala’s voice rang out, as if shouted from the top of a mountain. The words wavered and shimmered, the first rays of the morning sun, warming Anula’s skin and heating her blood. “Bring the Yakkas to the tunnels. Immediately.”

The argument died on Anula’s lips, fizzled to a sour taste in her mouth. Premala was right—Anula was no friend. Not to her and not to the Yakkas.

Anula’s body pushed off the statue without her mind telling it to do so.

Her feet moved of their own accord, each step binding her muscles with tension.

With fear. She was no longer in control.

She could not stop, could not turn, could not even lift her hand to touch her necklace.

She couldn’t swell her tongue, or put herself to sleep, or drink the poison at the base of her throat.

She could only walk.

“Anula.” Reeri spun as she emerged from the bush.

A tear slipped from her lashes as her lips violently shook apart, the words wrenched from between her teeth. “Call the others, and follow me.”