Page 23 of Her Soul for a Crown
“What is it?” Calu asked, craning his shadow neck to see the offering in Reeri’s hand.
“The same as always, I am doing as Wessamony commanded.”
“But you are happy about it.”
“What?”
“I can see it in your eyes.”
“We have no eyes.”
“It is a plan!” Kama shouted. “He looked the same when he figured out a way for us all to leave the shrines.”
A fevered smile widened across Calu’s face. “Finally.What is my part?”
Reeri’s shadows attempted to bristle. No one had a part. Reeri would act alone, suffer any consequences alone. “I plan nothing. Find your own offerings, or Wessamony will have all our souls.”
“That is precisely why I need a part.” Calu bent forward, leveled his empty gaze at Reeri. A flicker started at his chin. “You feel it, too, do you not? It is time to escape the prison.”
If shadows had pulses, Reeri’s would trip.
“And set the captives free.” Kama chuckled darkly.
“Tell us, Reeri.” Sohon’s edges roiled. “We are ready.”
No, Reeri wanted to say. He had involved the others once before, and look where it had ended. He could not bear to damn them further, could not bear more blood on his hands.
For if this failed, if he did not truly rid the Second Heavens of Wessamony, Wessamony would rid them of Reeri. And all who followed him.
“You do not have a choice,” Calu said, snatching another offering. He proffered it to Reeri. “We are in this together, whether you want us to be or not. So tell us the plan.”
Reeri glanced at each of their phantom faces, the trust swirling inside.
He did not deserve it.
But he could earn it.
Redemption for him, freedom for all.
Snatching the shadow from Calu, Reeri said, “First, we need an offering Wessamony cannot ignore.”
9
The ruby silk draped perfectly over Anula’s body.
The wedding mehendhi encased her arms in intricate patterns, from fingertips to elbows. The jewel-encrusted hatte clung heavily; the bell earrings pulled at her ears, the thick chain stretching to her hoop nose ring. A large headpiece dangled down to her brow, the diamonds fanning widely. The weight pressed against her, but did nothing to block the frenzied thoughts spinning in her mind.
If you do this right, songs will be sung about you.
And if I do it wrong?
A pyre will be built instead.
Cursed Yakkas, she couldn’t think about that. Not an hour before she wed her parents’ murderer. Not on the day the entire plan hinged on.
To settle her nerves, she had made a tincture, but it tasted awful without tea. Gold and ruby bangles clinked as she turned the corner into the kitchen, then skidded to a halt. Two maids embraced in the dark of the hall.
Kissing.
