Page 58 of Her Soul for a Crown

If shadows could cry, if shadows could panic, if shadows could bristle or sweat or shake with terror—

Yet bodies could.

And the moment Reeri dropped into his next, he cried out. Long and loud, a lion roaring for his threatened pride.

The body, a man named Darubhatika, was mid-flight when Reeri caught him.

Free of capture, he sprinted through the darkening outer city, away from the palace and the ambush.

He was already drenched from exertion, humidity and horror clinging tight.

Reeri skidded to a stop and pivoted, catching a hand on the ground to stop his fall as his shoulder slammed into another.

Darubhatika was not the only one fleeing.

Under the cover of dark clouds and falling night, the entire city had taken to the streets. Footsteps pounded the paved road, faster than the war drums. Abandoning homes, they escaped with empty hands save those clutched in another’s. Family was the sole priority—their safety and their life.

Reeri gritted his teeth, his shadow pulsing, and propelled forward, before the Polonnaruwan prince could lay a hand on Anula—or on Kama or Sohon or Calu. Though the Yakkas would come back, Anula would not.

Reeri lumbered in his tall, thick body. For once, he had been able to brace himself for the maddening spiral that was his shadow ripping from a body.

And for once he was able to control who he next inhabited.

The men in the inner city were either dead, injured, or otherwise bound, and Reeri had known that whoever he merged with must be able to fight.

Bands of muscle bulged from Darubhatika’s shoulders to wrists, across his chest, and down his legs.

Though not an army man, he would be able to brawl.

Even so, each step Reeri took was like dragging through rice paddy fields as person after person bumped into him.

He slogged through the trampled night market, his heart beating swift with visions of Sohon thrown from the terrace, Calu strung up and flayed, Kama gutted and left bleeding, and Anula…

Taken to a room, as any consort would be—ravaged and killed.

And what of the Kattadiya and Wessamony?

Polonnaruwa’s presence did not halt their advance.

He touched his neck, the vial of blood gone along with the last raja’s head.

Would two essence offerings be enough to bring his brethren back?

Another roar ripped through him, parting the crowd with terror.

The real Darubhatika was a firewood carrier in the palace, his strength used only in service.

Now Reeri exploited it to tower over the people, the Blood Yakka of old writhing inside.

Path cleared, he ran past razed thatch houses and forsaken shops, flattened vendor stations, and stupas with doors hacked off and offerings strewn down the stairs.

Another street held another fire. Every corner he took was bloodier than the last as people fled with torn clothes and torn skin, broken noses and black eyes, hands dripping red as they desperately climbed over the mangled palace gates.

Reeri paled. Smoke rose over what had been the courtiers’ homes, over the quickly charring Pleasure Gardens, and over three large pyres…packed with people. It was as if Wessamony had already descended and filled the night with fire and brimstone.

But no. They still had time.

A hand landed on his arm. He shifted, ready to fight off whoever dared threaten to stop him. He would not leave his brethren behind. He would not abandon Anula.

“ Yakka ,” the Kattadiya acolyte hissed. Chin raised high, Premala dug her shaking fingers deep.

“How did you know?” He pried her off, searching beyond her for her clan.

Premala pointed to his chest, the open tunic and elephant trunk reaching down to his navel. “The relic is missing. Give it back.”

Her voice quivered, yet her clan was nowhere in sight. She was alone. Reeri spun back, picking his way across the fallen palace gates. Premala’s hand landed on him again. She pulled, stronger than her size let on.

“Don’t you see how dangerous it is for the relic to be unguarded right now?”

Reeri tore away once more. “I see more danger than you can imagine. I must return to Anula.”

“Does she have it?”

Reeri curled back his lip. “ She is in danger.”

Premala scoffed. “You don’t care about that. You only ever wanted the relic. You want more destruction, just like your great Lord. Were you behind this attack, to distract us all from Lord Wessamony taking over?”

“I am not a monster,” Reeri growled. “Indeed there are a great many dangers here today, not the least being Wessamony’s descent at midnight, when the Maha Equinox strikes.

Yet I only care for the danger that now threatens Anula.

And if you do not wish to save her, then for once, do as the Kattadiya mantra suggests and save someone else. ”

“You don’t love her.” Premala frowned. “You can’t. You’re a Yakka.”

“Spare me your unsolicited opinion.”

Stepping carefully, Reeri hurried across the ruined threshold. Soldiers caught the outline of his hulking form, drew sword, mace, and spear, and smiled at him, eager for another target. Yet instead of metal striking flesh, a hand yanked his once more.

“What are you doing ?” He spun, holding steady.

Premala’s hand shook. Her eyes did not. “I won’t let you give the Lord the relic.”

“Mighty Heavens, girl, you are going to get yourself killed!”

“I don’t care! Not if it means keeping the relic safe from Lord Wessamony.”

“We are not giving him the relic,” Reeri rumbled, aware of the soldiers now at his back. “We are going to end his death-filled reign by using it on him!”

The girl blanched. “That’s what Anula said.”

“Why, then, did you attack her?”

“I—I didn’t believe her.”

A spear flew over Reeri’s shoulder. He shifted, covering Premala with his body. “Move,” he commanded, shoving her back the way they had climbed.

The hiss of a mace arced through the air. Reeri twisted and landed a sizable fist in the ribs of a soldier. The man doubled over, stumbled, and slid through the debris. Gripping a piece of loose iron, Reeri tossed it at the last soldier, catching his sword and unbalancing him.

Reeri turned to Premala. “What do you believe now?”

Wringing her hands, she held his gaze. “Can’t you call to her with your oath?”

“Unlike the Kattadiya, our connection is not a vise.”

She bit her lip, blood bubbling betwixt her teeth. “Wessamony wants to rule the Heavens and destroy all we know?”

Reeri sighed. “Yes.”

“But you don’t.”

It was not a question, and yet it was. “No.”

She shook her head. “The reason doesn’t matter, I suppose. We can’t let anyone else get the relic. Not the Polonnaruwans, not Wessamony.”

“No,” he agreed again. Kattadiya were not to be trusted, he knew that well, yet there was something about this one. “We must save Anula first. She has the relic.”

“We?” Premala squeaked. “What, like a truce, until Anula and the relic are safe?”

“Until my Yakkas are safe, too,” he bargained.

“And then we…what?”

“Then together, we face Wessamony,” Reeri said, seeing the shadow of the girl within, the one Anula must have seen. The one who was not dissimilar to either of them. “Together, we save the Heavens and the Earth.”

Slowly, the girl nodded. “What do you need from me?”