Page 100 of Her Soul for a Crown
Anula’s jaw worked as she realized this man had been on Auntie Nirma’s list of enemies long before Anula chose her path. And though Auntie Nirma might have been wrong about a great many things, justice was not one of them. Men who shed blood and never thought twice about it did not deserve mercy. The people they ruled did not deserve them.
“Then I suppose I better work for my right to stay alive. Perhaps we can come to an agreement.”
His crooked smile sent a shiver down her spine. “I will build my own concubine estate.”
“I might have the experience you’re after.”
“No, thanks. I don’t eat table scraps.” Dilshan reached for both their teacups, swapping them before draining one. “You’re just like Nirma. You think you’re so clever. You forget I have twenty years’ experience on you. You’d be wise to learn from me.”
He stood and turned to leave, only to pause and clutch at his chest, hands and feet unmoving. Paralyzed in pain.
It was the tincture she’d given to Nuwan, remixed and working as intended.
“Oh, but I already have, Dilshan.” Anula stood, walked around the table, the knife bumping with each step, and clapped him on the shoulder. He wheezed, turning purple. “Never celebrate a victory until all your enemies are dead. Otherwise, they could spring from the bushes and catch you by surprise.”
She pushed him to the ground, where he coughed and choked.
The sharp blade had a lion’s head on the hilt. A blessed gift known for helping a raja hunt. It was said to be able to take down a lion with one slice. To skin them clean with one slash.
The commander didn’t care for anyone but himself. Anula plunged the blade, cutting open his chest as smoothly as if it were a mango. She dug her hand deep inside and pulled out the thing he never used.
A heart.
She watched it expand and contract, waiting for the moment she would feel different. The moment all the years of study and scheming would pay off. The moment her shoulders would lift from the weight of her family’s deaths.
Seconds ticked by. But the feeling never came.
***
“Here,” she said, dropping the heart in Kama’s hands. The Yakkalit up and flitted away, a giggle peeling through the administration halls.
“Tell the raja to send troops to the villages of Maradankadawala, Palugaswewa, and Habraana. Polonnaruwa has taken them.”
Bithul frowned, swallowed hard. “He—”
“Was not a good man.” She leveled a stare.
He nodded, grave and resigned. “Then you focused on the most important thing, and your justice was served.”
Was it?
A breeze chilled the blood on her hands.
Dilshan’s death didn’t bring back Amma or Thaththa. It didn’t make that night less horrific or more bearable. Anula would save only some in the villages. It wouldn’t bring back those already taken. What, then, was the point of Auntie Nirma’s justice? Or Anula’s path to the throne?
Her voice hollowed out. “I am here to change things for the betterment of Anuradhapura.”
But was she truly changing anything or simply begetting more death?
37
The breeze played with Reeri’s hair as he bathed beneath the stars. It curled the tips, drew gooseflesh across his neck. Mayhap, though, that came from the image dancing through his mind instead.
Eight days they had spent in the archives. Eight days reading, much to Sohon’s pleasure, scouring each page for a hint to where to search. Eight days sitting alongside Anula, noticing the delicate bones beneath her mehendhi hands, the way she sighed when the person of whom she read found a happy moment, and, moreover, noticing the change in her curses. No longer was it a cursed Yakka, but cursed blessings.
He had scooted closer to her the day before, and she had let her hair fall on his shoulder. It smelled of jasmine. He wondered at the feel of it betwixt his fingers. Mayhap he could know—after the relic was found and used, once he had a body and a life. If Anula allowed it, he could live in the inner city. They could remain…connected. She had said that her auntie had taught her of allies. He could show her how good an ally he could be, how she would want for nothing. She would tremble only under his thumb as heswept it over her cheeks, down her neck, trailing it with his nose. Nuzzling, brushing lips over her softness. She had said she begged on her knees for one thing only. O Heavens. He would give it to her every time.
Anything she requested. Anywhere she demanded.
