Page 8 of Her Soul for a Crown

Twelve years felt like nothing and everything all at once. Now, Anula shook off the memory. This life’s purpose required focus.

The moon peeked through the clouds as she flew through the shrubbery of the Pleasure Gardens. As far as anyone knew, she was in her room, praying and preparing her soul for service to the raja.

She had a different kind of preparation in mind.

The gardens were known for being vast, hosting every flower and plant imaginable on the island: pink nelum, white kadupul, yellow allamanda.

They called to her in soft moonlight, but she didn’t slow to smell them.

Anula had eyes for only one plant tonight.

She turned another corner, and there, in the center of the garden as if waiting for her, were the red-petaled flowers of her dreams.

Quickly, she plucked as many kaneru as she could fit into a small pouch, tying the string in a knot. The hair on her arms rose, her heart beating a little faster.

Prophet Ayaan. Commander Dilshan. Raja Mahakuli Mahatissa.

She repeated the names, her promise to the kingdom.

Well stocked and ready to meet the raja, Anula gripped the window to haul herself back inside the concubine estate. She had one leg halfway through when a small curse sounded from around the corner. She fell silent and rigid.

Perhaps a guard had seen her flitting about the gardens. Or they’d checked in on her, only to find her room empty.

“For prayer’s sake.” A fierce voice whispered into the dark.

Anula cocked her head. Guards wouldn’t bother with whispers. Whoever it was, they weren’t meant to be outside either.

She hung in the window frame for a second. Leaving was the safest route. But young women who valued the honor of being a concubine didn’t dare break rules. No, only those with agendas sneaked through windows and ventured into the midnight hours.

Agendas that might interfere with hers.

Silently sliding off the windowsill, Anula tiptoed across the soft grass.

“Please, please.” A short stick of a figure fumbled with two picks at the locked door. She wasn’t a guard, though the clothing suggested a servant. A maid, possibly. But why would a maid be picking locks?

Anula ran through the names and roles on her list, the ones who were known to be disloyal to the kingdom. None placed a young maid at the concubine estate. Which meant this might be a new threat, one she had to deal with herself.

Quietly, she made her way over, leaned against the door, and slid into view. “Do you often break into sacred places?”

The maid jumped so violently, she stumbled over herself. Anula grabbed hold of her arm to keep her from falling. She was at least a foot shorter and wrapped in a tight blue sari. Curry stained the front.

She couldn’t be a thief; she’d be defter with a lock. But if she wasn’t in league with the traitors and she wasn’t a pilferer, then who was she?

“I wasn’t aware that kitchen maids picked their way into work.”

“Shhh,” the girl hissed, glancing over her shoulder. Anula followed her gaze. The hushed garden stared back.

“Were you meeting someone?” Anula smirked. “Practicing the gentle touch of a concubine?”

The maid flinched. “How—no!”

She twitched at her own loudness, eyes roving the space around them as if someone might be watching or had just been there.

“You know you can do that alone, safely in your room.”

The maid blushed. “I—I haven’t—”

“I could show you.” Anula waggled her eyebrows. “It’s a particular gift every concubine must have.”

“No!” The maid waved her off. “No, no! I had to go. I mean, I forgot the fresh mangoes for breakfast in the morning. Cook will have my head if they’re not there. So I went to the palace to fetch some.”

Anula eyed her clearly empty pockets. “Did you eat them on the way?”

The maid looked her up and down, surprise rising. “Wait, you’re a concubine. What are you doing out here?”

“I asked you first.” Anula wagged a finger. “Or should I sound the alarm that an intruder is near?”

“Please, no!” she whisper-shouted, grabbing Anula’s finger. “I’ll lose my position.”

“Then why risk leaving?”

The girl straightened. “I could ask the same of you.”

“But again, I asked first.”

The maid pursed her lips, raised her chin, and made a decision of some sort. “My name is Premala. I’m a kitchen maid.”

Anula ran through the other list in her head. The one Auntie Nirma had her memorize of potential allies, potential enemies. Premala was on neither. Anula had no idea who she was or where she’d come from. It was unlike Auntie Nirma to miss a detail, let alone an entire person.

“When did you start?”

“Just a few weeks ago. So I really can’t afford trouble.” Premala’s face was open, honest except for the tightness at the corners of her eyes.

“My name is Anula, and I like long walks in the night,” she said and held out her palm. Time to buy some trust. “Give me the pins.”

Premala’s gaze dropped to two small jeweled hair clips.

“Next time you sneak out for mangoes ,” Anula said, turning to the window, “leave yourself an easier way to get back inside.”

Between the frames of the windowsill sat a diamond glinting in the moonlight. She placed a pin beside it, holding the window slightly ajar.

“Then you slide out and in.” She smiled. “Silently, tenderly—no need for anyone’s assistance.”

Premala choked a cough. “Was that a jest?”

Anula winked and lifted herself through the window, before helping Premala and handing back the pin. A clink of metal echoed down the hall, voices rising with it.

“—to think he grew up down the street,” one said.

“Never would have thought he had it in him,” another said. “We’ll have to be more vigilant.”

A cold chill fell down Anula’s spine. Guards. Their shadows crept closer. There wasn’t time to flee—she wouldn’t make the corner. They’d see her or at least part of her.

A hand wrapped around her elbow, pulled her sideways and into a crouch behind a tall potted palm. Premala pressed a finger to her mouth. The vase itself was wide enough to hide them both. The long, thick leaves hung perfectly around the lip.

Premala had saved her.

The unknown, who’d lied about mangoes, had risked helping her instead of thinking of herself. Why? They weren’t allies; they were barely acquaintances.

The guards passed without a second glance. Anula slid out first.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

Premala held up the pins. “You too.” Without another word, she crossed the hall and disappeared into the shadows.

Anula’s eyes narrowed. There was something fishy about that girl. No one saved another without reason. The world was crueler than that. Whatever secrets she held close, Anula would have to discover them. She couldn’t have someone disrupt Auntie Nirma’s plans. Too many lives were at stake.

She squeezed the brimming bag of kaneru. Anyone who stood in their way would meet the seeds’ particularly deadly poison. Since the Heavens’ hands were nonexistent, Anula intended to keep her own pathway clear.