Page 150 of Her Soul for a Crown
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The tunnels curved endlessly as Premala lead the patchwork army to the one and only blessed painting owned by the Kattadiya. She stopped in front of an old wooden door etched with stars. Why it was hidden away, Anula could only guess.
“So you’re a thief after all,” she said, thinking back to when she’d suspected the girl of sneaking into the concubine estate to pilfer.
“No!” Premala waved her off. “This painting was gifted to us, not the kingdom. We would never.”
“It was only a jest.”
“You’re not as funny as you think.”
“And you’re not as timid.”
Her entire body flushed. “Good. A guruthuma shouldn’t be.”
A throat cleared. Bithul looked pointedly at the door. “We haven’t much time.”
Premala nodded, placed a hand on the wood, and pushed. Flickering candlelight illuminated the tiny office, casting shadows on the pillows and one low table, where papers filled with drawingswere spread—drawings of Hashini and other women, perhaps other past guruthumas. Hanging above it was a large canvas in which a young woman stood in the center of a dark cave, a lone fire revealing the absence of tunnels. Her eyes were closed, her chin tilted up to the Divinity of Luck touching her between the eyes, heavenslight sparking where finger and forehead met.
“Thilini,” Anula breathed.
“Yes,” Premala agreed, awestruck. Each of the Kattadiya touched their heads, in reverence or remembrance, before Premala bowed to Fate. “After you, Your Greatness.”
Fate wasted no time with explanations. They strode forward, placed their hand on the canvas, and stepped through. The rest followed, one by one.
A soft breeze played with the tendrils of Anula’s curls. The heat of the fire warmed her cheeks, and as she walked across the expanse toward the end of the canvas, she caught a glimmer in Thilini’s eye. The first guruthuma’s lips spread in a smile as she dipped her head in greeting. As though she knew, even then, that they would one day meet. Anula nodded back, and for once, the unknowing nature of the cosmos didn’t feel unstable but pliable, filled with unending possibilities.
“We need a plan for when we arrive,” Bithul said, pulling her back to the moment.
Anula refocused. If they did this right, she’d have her whole life to explore that thought. “Take your men to the inner city. Stop them as best you can. I’ll try to work quickly.”
“What about us?” Premala asked.
“Save the people. Put out the fires. Do whatever you can to disrupt Polonnaruwa’s destruction.”
“What work are you trying to do quickly?” Bithul asked, though the purse of his lips and crease in his brow told her that he knew exactly what she had planned. With or without a necklace.
“I have a bone to pick with the prince,” Anula said, his image surfacing. Though no sky turned red, her vision shimmered with it, her eyes wide open.
“Perhaps I should accompany you.”
A wave of tension crashed from behind them. Anula flicked a glance at the guards listening in, at their terse faces and the need in their gazes.
“A commander should be with his men, don’t you think?” she asked.
Bithul turned. His men caught his eye and held him firm. Surprised, a flush sizzled up his neck. They didn’t need to say the words. Bithul had always been their choice. He nodded curtly in acceptance, standing taller. It wasn’t until Fate had led them outside of the fire’s flickering flames and into the dark corners of the painting that Bithul spoke again.
“Are you all right, without knowing their…fate?” His voice was low, soft. It pinched at Anula.
“As all right as a pig being swallowed headfirst by a rock python, but I can’t dwell on it. I did what I could, and now I’ll do it again for others.” The words rang true in her heart, echoed in the empty cavern of her soul. This was what she must do. After, she could search for him, as a seeker to a relic. If that’s what she chose. Her path wasn’t marked out by the Divinities or anyone else. She was free to decide, free to choose what was most important. The way the Yakkas had been in their last moments. The way Anuradhapura was about to be.
But she already knew that’s exactly what she would do. She chose him.
“Fate was right.” Bithul regarded her. “You are changed.”
A smile lifted her lips. It didn’t reach her eyes, but one day, perhaps it would. Only the cosmos knew.
“Pardon me, my raeji—my—um, commander.” Shahan pushedthrough, stumbled in front of them, and saluted. “I was thinking of our strategy. If we split off in more than one contingent, we widen our reach, but that lowers the number of fighters in each. I’m not sure such small groups can accomplish much of anything.”
