Page 111 of Her Soul for a Crown
“No.”
Anula stared through the moonlight, straight to his shadow. Slowly, she brushed a lock of fallen hair from his eyes.
He sighed. “Yes. Yet there is more to it. They deserve freedom.”
“Of course, they do. But it’s not your duty to free them, because you have nothing to redeem yourself for.”
“How can you say that?” he whispered, voice broken. “You know what I did to the humans to unshackle us, how my actions caused our banishment.”
Anula’s hand dropped. The sudden air stung. Another roll of thunder shook the room, and Anula bit her lip and took a deep breath. “It’s my fault my unborn sibling died, my fault Amma burned to ash on a pyre.”
“No.”
“Yes. I refused to listen to her direction. I let go of her hand. I wasted precious time.”
“You were a child.”
“And if I weren’t? Would it be my fault then?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because you were not the attacker.”
Anula smiled as if she had won.
Reeri wished she had. “This is different. You know that.”
“Fine.” She raised on an elbow, challenge forever twinkling in her eyes. “Then what about today? Is it my fault those villagers are dead?”
“No.”
“I told you to send the army. I ordered them to walk into an ambush.”
“You did not know.”
Anula leaned close, her eyelashes nearly touching his. “Neither did you.”
Reeri sighed, gaze falling way. “I wish it were that simple.”
Hands cupped his cheeks, forced his chin up. The touch rippled through the tether, and together, they saw it: his fear.
The shadow within recoiled, and if he had his way, so too would he. For he was not worthy of this kindness, this connection, this feeling he dared hope was his soul communing with another. No matter the magnitude of his yearning for it.
Thunder chased his dreams and promised a lengthy storm—the rains before the monsoon that would mark the Maha Equinox.
“You are worthy,” Anula said over the gale. “You were never not.”
“But—”
She went on, refusing to allow him to argue. “Calu, Kama, and Sohon are not senseless, despite what I judged them to be before. They aren’t following you because they know no other way. They are your family. And family always loves, no matter what. You don’t have to earn it.”
A lump rose in Reeri’s throat. “And what about those not family? Must I earn it then?”
Anula stilled. She held on to his cheeks, closed her eyes, and when she reopened them, he felt it more than saw it. Deep within, past the pain and the walls, lived a soul who loved wholeheartedly, devotion intertwined with a fierce protection.
“I forgive you.”
