Page 108 of Her Soul for a Crown
“I will make sure of it.”
Reeri let out a breath, tension ebbing away, and folded into a heap. His head dropped on her shoulder. Anula slipped her hands from his, wrapping her arms around him, and squeezed tight.
She closed her eyes as his cinnamon scent enveloped her, caressed her, and taking a deep breath in, she let her head fall onto his. Let her chin feel the tingle of his hair, let her lips find his forehead, find the tops of his cheekbones and the tip of his nose.
And then she let her lips find the fullness of his and gently brush against them.
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For a moment, it was just them and the embers sparking between their lips.
It was a moment Anula had once dreamed of, a moment that had never come, though her lips had met many others. A kiss had long ago become a bartering tool, a way of justice, a path to change. But now, with him, she felt that a kiss could do more. Like wake a long-slumbering dream.
Reeri’s eyes snapped open. He jerked away, leaving her arms suddenly empty and cold, and she had to cling to the blessed bed frame to stop her fall.
“We—we cannot,” he breathed heavily.
Anula flushed. “Sorry.”
Reeri’s nostrils flared. He stared at her lips with a thirst, as if desire had parched him, too.
“My raja.” Bithul’s voice cut through the bedchamber; his haunted gaze burned their moment to dust. “An urgent missive.”
They barely had time to right themselves before Bithul thrustthe small paper into Reeri’s hand. He half stood, half kneeled on the bed and breathed, “No.”
He glanced at her, all cravings forgotten. Dread thickened the air.
“What?” she asked.
Reeri’s jaw worked, as if he couldn’t say or wouldn’t say, as if he wanted to protect her.
“What?” she repeated, braced and demanding. “Reeri, tell me.”
He blinked. “Wh—what did you call me?”
Anula blushed. It had slipped out. She wasn’t sure when she had stopped thinking of him as a Yakka and started seeing him as Reeri. Less a bloody legend or Heavenly being, and more of a…being. Not unlike herself. Perhaps it happened in the moment between their lips touching and her old desires sparking anew. Perhaps it had happened before that, quietly, silently. She cleared her throat. “Don’t change the subject.”
She ripped the missive from his grip, and all thoughts of lips and kisses and names blew away.
“Anula—”
“No.” Her voice cracked. She met his shadow-lined eyes. “No. It can’t be true.”
Contingent of Anuradhapura army killed in Polonnaruwan attack. No survivors. Villages burned to ash.
“No,” Anula repeated, the letter in her hand shifting in and out of focus. “Dilshan said…”
Bithul scowled. “He lied, to aid the Polonnaruwa Kingdom into a strategic advantage. The villages had not yet been taken. When our army arrived, they struck and razed all three to the ground. Not only do they now have a clear path into the kingdom, they took out a third of our military. The raja must declare wartime.”
The missive shook in her hand.
Reeri whispered, dark and low, “These men do not merit the dignity of war. They must reap what they have sown. Let them be taken by surprise, ripped from their beds and bled out on the streets.”
Anula shivered. Red sky. Red hands. Red water.Look away.
A hand fell upon hers. She glanced up into Reeri’s dark eyes, spilled ink masking saffron.
“I can do it,” he said. “I will do it, without a bargain. I will burn them in their own blood, for you.”
