Page 119 of Her Soul for a Crown
“Stop,” Premala whispered.
“You aren’t worthless, Premala. Come with me. We will still save the kingdom, but not like this.”
“Stop.”
“Don’t let this place fool you. Don’t let them make you a monster.”
“Stop!” Premala snapped. “Why do you care if I am a Kattadiya?”
“Because they’re wrong! They’re cruel. You deserve better than this.”
“No. You care because I’m in your way. If I hadn’t been the one to show you that first tovil, would you have ever sought me out again?”
“I checked on you in the kitchens.”
“Because you caught me in the gardens. Because you thought I was part of another usurper’s plan.”
Anula didn’t deny it.
“You were never my friend, Anula. You only ever wanted to know that I wasn’t your enemy. And now that I am, you want to stop me.”
Anula’s gut twisted. She had never been taught how to be a friend. “I see you, Premala. You are not my enemy, but you’ve been sold a lie.”
“Bring them.” Premala’s voice rang out, as if shouted from the top of a mountain. The words wavered and shimmered, the first rays of the morning sun, warming Anula’s skin and heating her blood. “Bring the Yakkas to the tunnels. Immediately.”
The argument died on Anula’s lips, fizzled to a sour taste in her mouth. Premala was right—Anula was no friend. Not to her and not to the Yakkas.
Anula’s body pushed off the statue without her mind telling it to do so. Her feet moved of their own accord, each step binding her muscles with tension. With fear. She was no longer in control.She could not stop, could not turn, could not even lift her hand to touch her necklace. She couldn’t swell her tongue, or put herself to sleep, or drink the poison at the base of her throat.
She could only walk.
“Anula.” Reeri spun as she emerged from the bush.
A tear slipped from her lashes as her lips violently shook apart, the words wrenched from between her teeth. “Call the others, and follow me.”
43
Dark clouds gathered as Reeri and the others followed Anula through the brush and down a set of stairs. Heat clung to him. It drew out his sweat, leeched his breath, as if to hollow him out. A monsoon was nigh. The mark of the Maha season.
“Those are Divinities.” Bithul sucked his teeth, the tap of his sword-cane scratching to a halt.
The tunnels spread wide beneath the ground, walls bare save for the occasional portrait of a woman, halls tight and made tighter by grandiose stone statues. These, Reeri recognized. Neither short nor tall, female nor male, but all and none and everything in between. A chill ran up his spine.
“The Kattadiya survived, then,” Sohon growled. “That is how your bargain was broken, Calu.”
Unease filtered through their line. The memory of the Kattadiya’s powers had not faded with time, and they were not keen to experience them again.
“When were you going to tell us of your Kattadiya connections?” Calu asked.
Anula stared, a droplet of sweat tracking down her cheek. “I—”
Her hand twitched, her lips pursed, and Reeri saw the color of fear in her eyes. It soured in his mouth.
Despite her forgiveness, there were still so many ways he could fail her, fail them all. Mayhap she realized that, too. She continued deeper into the tunnel, without giving an answer.
“Did you tell her of the soul sacrifice?” Calu whispered, swinging the foreign sword he had bought in the night market, ready to battle any unseen Kattadiya. “She looks scared to find the relic.”
Reeri’s heart squeezed as he watched the tension stiffen Anula’s shoulders. The urge to take her hand in his sizzled down his arms. Why should she not be scared? Even without knowledge of her sacrifice, they were still attempting the impossible: killing a Heavenly being. None of them knew what was to come.
