Page 16 of Her Soul for a Crown
“And if I do it wrong?”
Auntie Nirma raised a brow. “A pyre will be built instead.”
***
Twelve years felt like nothing and everything all at once. Now, Anula shook off the memory. This life’s purpose required focus.
The moon peeked through the clouds as she flew through the shrubbery of the Pleasure Gardens. As far as anyone knew, she was in her room, praying and preparing her soul for service to the raja.
She had a different kind of preparation in mind.
The gardens were known for being vast, hosting every flower and plant imaginable on the island: pink nelum, white kadupul, yellow allamanda. They called to her in soft moonlight, but she didn’t slow to smell them. Anula had eyes for only one plant tonight. She turned another corner, and there, in the center of the garden as if waiting for her, were the red-petaled flowers of her dreams.
Quickly, she plucked as many kaneru as she could fit into a small pouch, tying the string in a knot. The hair on her arms rose, her heart beating a little faster.
Prophet Ayaan. Commander Dilshan. Raja Mahakuli Mahatissa.
She repeated the names, her promise to the kingdom.
Well stocked and ready to meet the raja, Anula gripped the window to haul herself back inside the concubine estate. She had one leg halfway through when a small curse sounded from around the corner. She fell silent and rigid.
Perhaps a guard had seen her flitting about the gardens. Or they’d checked in on her, only to find her room empty.
“For prayer’s sake.” A fierce voice whispered into the dark.
Anula cocked her head. Guards wouldn’t bother with whispers. Whoever it was, they weren’t meant to be outside either.
She hung in the window frame for a second. Leaving was the safest route. But young women who valued the honor of being a concubine didn’t dare break rules. No, only those with agendas sneaked through windows and ventured into the midnight hours.
Agendas that might interfere with hers.
Silently sliding off the windowsill, Anula tiptoed across the soft grass.
“Please, please.” A short stick of a figure fumbled with two picks at the locked door. She wasn’t a guard, though the clothing suggested a servant. A maid, possibly. But why would a maid be picking locks?
Anula ran through the names and roles on her list, the ones who were known to be disloyal to the kingdom. None placed a young maid at the concubine estate. Which meant this might be a new threat, one she had to deal with herself.
Quietly, she made her way over, leaned against the door, and slid into view. “Do you often break into sacred places?”
The maid jumped so violently, she stumbled over herself. Anula grabbed hold of her arm to keep her from falling. She was at least a foot shorter and wrapped in a tight blue sari. Curry stained the front.
She couldn’t be a thief; she’d be defter with a lock. But if she wasn’t in league with the traitors and she wasn’t a pilferer, then who was she?
“I wasn’t aware that kitchen maids picked their way into work.”
“Shhh,” the girl hissed, glancing over her shoulder. Anula followed her gaze. The hushed garden stared back.
“Were you meeting someone?” Anula smirked. “Practicing the gentle touch of a concubine?”
The maid flinched. “How—no!”
She twitched at her own loudness, eyes roving the space around them as if someone might be watching or had just been there.
“You know you can do that alone, safely in your room.”
The maid blushed. “I—I haven’t—”
“I could show you.” Anula waggled her eyebrows. “It’s a particular gift every concubine must have.”
