Page 115 of Her Soul for a Crown
But each time she turned to another blessing, she burned hotter, their kiss—his shared daydream—eating her alive. Her hands, his tongue, the desire she had to hear him groan.Cursed blessings, cursed paintings, cursed everything. Hours ticked by, and still, she burned, simmering on the hows and whys, on what had been the rock that started the avalanche. It’s not like she had known she wanted to kiss him, ever, let alone more than once. It happened so quickly. One moment she was holding his pallid, prone form, promising to not let him fail his loved ones again, and the next, she saw his shadow.
Saffron eyes and sharp cheekbones. The ghost of his true self.
And for the first time since they’d met in the shrine, she hadn’t felt the need for caution. Reeri wasn’t untrustworthy or dangerous. He wasn’t callous or cruel. He was kind. He was safe. And so she’d wrapped her arms around him, and suddenly—she felt calm, like returning home after a long trip or tucking into a warm bed on a cold night. She had seen it then, their similarities. She didn’t know how she’d missed it before.
And now, just as it had then, the desire struck like lightning. A wanting warmed beneath her sari, to feel the planes of his true chest, to see every dip, every bulge, to watch his muscles flex ashe lifted her atop him, to watch his eyes flutter closed in pleasure. Could she draw out his shadow with a gentle touch and find out? Perhaps it wasn’t only poisoncraft that brought the true Reeri back. Perhaps with her tongue, when his knees buckled and she brought him to the edge—
“Anula.”
With a shriek, she spun—
—and crashed right into Reeri.
Chests pressed together, he saw her thoughts, her question, her desire. His hands seized her waist, breath quickening, as her daydream took over them. A bed of silks, a swirl of candle smoke, the scent of cinnamon, as Anula leaned him back, running one finger down his chest and stomach, dipping beneath his sarong and catching his hardness as it rose to greet her. She moaned, followed her fingers with her lips. Kissing nipple and navel. Both hands stroking.
Now Reeri groaned in response to the vision, pushing her up against the wall and bringing his lips to her ear. His breath sent a shudder down her spine, and she arched slightly.
“If I were merely a woman…” she whispered.
He squeezed her waist and inhaled her scent, lingering at her neck. But then he growled and pried himself off. “We cannot.”
With stiff legs, he pivoted out of the room and into the shrine next door. Anula let out a huff, pressing her palms into her eyes.Thrice-cursed blessings.She wasn’t sure she’d make it to the Maha Equinox.
Swallowing her thoughts—and all else that came with them—she pushed off the wall and followed him. Reeri sighed as she entered. Not at her, but at a painting, the largest in the room by half. The floor was littered with gifts, both dusty and pristine, the new stacked high.
“We must go inside.” Reeri finally broke the silence. “I hadcome to tell you, before…”
Anula flushed and cleared her throat. “Why do you think that?”
“Mayhap the relic is hidden within.”
“If it is, then there are too many gifts to check in time.” She stepped closer.
Reeri tensed, the strain pulsing between them like a heartbeat. “We must start somewhere.”
“I didn’t mean that we should give up.” They stood in front of a rendering of a Festival of the Cosmos. It was less realistic than the others, the brushstrokes crisscrossing and the colors blending. “I don’t think this place exists in Anuradhapura. I’ve never seen the sun hanging in the east while the stars shine in the west.”
“Art imitates life in a myriad of ways. Remember that the gifts are points within the cosmos, not on Earth. If the Divinities gifted this rendering, with fantastical images, they did it for a purpose.”
“Which was what?”
“I suppose we will see.”
Reeri took a breath and held open a hand. Unafraid of seeing her wildest desires. Or perhaps just as curious as she was.
Anula grabbed it quickly. He wrapped his fingers tightly around hers, sending a thrill down her spine. And together, they pressed into the canvas until it devoured them whole.
But instead of facing more dreams, they emerged in a field of color and song. A musician blew a long note through the hak gediya, puffing out his chest and throwing back his head. The Festival of the Cosmos had begun.
Fire dancers spun to the beat of the processional raban drum. Chimes rang loudly through the courtyard, pulling the crowd’s attention, as elephants and dancers swathed in bright fabrics and gilt jewels led the parade across the city. Vendors lined the open gates, steam rising in scented tendrils beckoning all to eat, todrink, to celebrate. Laborers stood next to artisans, ministers next to servants, all shining as best they could, all carrying their greatest offerings. On one side, a golden hue lit upon their heads. On the other, starlight danced in their eyes.
Heat sizzled along Anula’s arms. It was unseasonably warm. Amma had used to say it was a warning, that the strongest monsoons fell after the hottest of days. She glanced up to see puffy white clouds, holding not rain but the rulers of the Heavens. On one side, Lord Wessamony, and the other, the host of Divinities. They gazed lovingly, reaching down to bestow blessings and favors, wishes and dreams.
“I’ve never seen a Festival of the Cosmos this…joyful,” Anula said. She had partaken in her fair share, coming first each year with Thaththa and Amma, then with Auntie Nirma. The later years had been shrouded in the shadows of the alleys, drinking palm wine alone, drowning the unwanted memories until her auntie had her fill of begging and bartering. She wondered what it would be like for her now, with far more knowledge yet still so far from faith.
“It is not a festival,” Reeri whispered. “It is a depiction of the balance of the cosmos. Night and day sharing one sky. Life and death entwined in remembrance.”
“Death?”
