Page 6 of Her Soul for a Crown
Reeri turned on one phantom heel. The venom of two centuries seethed below his surface. Wessamony was no great Lord. He cared not for the redemption of his creation, only for his plan of ascendance.
What would Reeri do?
He would find the dagger, save his brethren from damnation, and fix what he had broken, then safeguard them for eternity.
He would kill Wessamony.
3
Anula hunched over a wide table, scribbling across a long, narrow piece of paper.
The knock at the door hadn’t been her calling; it had been a missive from Auntie Nirma. To the naked eye, it was a loving letter from her only family member, but once held to candle flame, the true message revealed itself.
Usurper on the move. Allied with palace traitors and Polonnaruwa Kingdom. Must hurry. New names: Tissa Bandara, Nihal Kumara, Deepal Dissanayake.
Hand racing, Anula copied it down, tucked her list into a seam of her sari, and burned the missive. The edges curled in on themselves, darkened, and dissolved. Her anxiety did not.
Her list—Auntie Nirma’s list—could only come into play after Anula met with the raja. After she wooed him. After she married him. A concubine couldn’t rid the palace of corrupt ministers or traitors to the Anuradhapura Kingdom. A concubine was luckyto spend her days in the estate, or else be freed to marry before she was old and gray and barren. There was no justice system for concubines, women, or the poor of the kingdom. They had no voice, and so a concubine could not wield political power.
But a raejina could.
The first raejina of Anuradhapura.
Another knock sounded at the door. This time Anula’s heart didn’t race; her pulse didn’t spike. There was no time to waste, to second-guess. A usurper was on her heels.
***
The smell of jasmine and rose wafted around Anula’s sari, tingling in her nose. Steam billowed and swirled from the Kuttam Pokuna bathhouse, softening her shoulders and easing the tension from her muscles as two servants undressed her.
“Tonight will be your ceremonial cleansing to prepare your body for service to the raja,” the elder said, initiating the ritual hundreds, if not thousands, of concubines had undergone. “You’ll spend tomorrow in your room, preparing your mind for service to the raja. Prayer to both Heavens begins now, to prepare your soul for service to the raja.”
Anula knew the servant’s name, knew the date she’d begun working in the concubine estate, knew what her allegiance was to the kingdom, even knew she had a birthmark behind her right ear.
Auntie Nirma was nothing if not thorough.
But this servant was not an ally. And though not an enemy, Anula had no time for those who didn’t fall into either group. Idle chitchat wouldn’t rectify the wounds brought on by the Age of Usurpers. According to Auntie Nirma, that was Anula’s purpose. The reason she lived while so many others—
No.There was no point thinking of them.
The two servants whispered blessings as they stripped Anula bare, the night air sending a chill along her spine. Between the palace and the gardens stood four granite statues of conches and crabs marking the corners of the long, languid pool. Bottles of perfumes and oils lined one side; candles flickered on the other.
“Forgive her all transgressions, infinitely wise and powerful Divinities,” the younger servant said, leading Anula to the edge of the water. “We pray mercy and favor upon her life. Make her a blessing to the raja.”
Anula snorted. If the Divinities knew of her plan for the great raja and his corrupt followers, they most assuredly would not bless it. Retribution tended to be a Yakka endeavor.
“Are you well?” the older servant asked. She reached out to cup Anula’s face. “If you are overcome with emotion, I can bring you a kerchief. It is all right to feel—”
“I’m fine.” Before the touch settled on her cheek, Anula pulled away and took the first step down into the bathing pool.
The water cooled her sun-warmed skin and anxiety-riddled veins. A large, colorfully painted fish glimmered from the floor. The Makara, the sea dragon known for feasting on fishermen, slipped beneath her feet. Rising starlight danced on its scales, giving the impression of movement, as if it were swimming from one end to the other.
Anula blinked.
Itwasswimming from one end to the other. Gliding across the stone floor, the sea dragon shimmered not with moonlight or starlight but with—
“Heavenly blessing,” Anula whispered. Her eyes flicked to the servants. “So the tales are true? The palace is filled with blessed gifts?”
“Why would they be false?” The younger woman cocked her head. “The Heavens do not lie. The palace is the in-between, aplace created and endowed with objects blessed with their powers so that we may experience and know their love.”
