Page 155 of Her Soul for a Crown
“Of course there are,” an older one scoffed. “But they are bastards now. Their lineage stopped mattering when their fathers failed to keep the crown.”
An argument lifted across the room. Villager and minister quarreled over bloodlines and feats of strength. The Age of Usurpers had always favored physical prowess, but that Age had ended, a new one begun. They couldn’t act as they had before, or else nothing would change. It was time the people’s lives mattered. It was time their voices were heard.
Anula stepped onto the dais. “We should choose. A man shouldn’t be able to claim the throne because he won a battle. Didn’t we just do that? Then we should choose our ruler.All of us.Together.”
Surprise cleared the crowd’s anger, dissolving the argument.
Anula grasped at her chance. “Each of us will have a voice. Consider who you’d want to rule—”
“I choose you.” A voice boomed. The crowd turned. Bithul stood straight and unblinking, looking at Anula. “I choose you to take the throne.”
“Me too!” Premala said.
Sandani smiled. “I stand behind Anula, too.”
The crowd stilled. Wind blew through the room, kicking up sarongs and saris and the words of guards, villagers, Kattadiya, and ministers as they each raised their voice.
For her.
Anula shook her head. “I am no raja.”
“No,” Shahan agreed. He glanced at his commander, then back up to her. He stepped toward the dais and kneeled. “You are Anula of Anuradhapura. You bledforthe kingdom, instead of bleeding it dry. We choose you.”
The rustling of clothes came first; then knees bent and every head bowed.
Only Bithul stood, unwavering, forever faithful. “Do you accept, Raejina?”
62
The cosmos burst into existence.
Again.
The Heavens spread wide. Pearl-encrusted gates rose high from the center of glistening waters. Yet, where once there had been gilt stairs disappearing into another realm, where turrets and spires stretched to breach them, there lay two ivory structures. One on each end. One held the purveyors of unconditional blessing, the other of contractual obligation. For it was not balance if all favor came freely, nor if all aid came with a price.
And after centuries of tilted, soured, broken balance, the cosmos had righted itself once more.
Within the pearl gates stood a gilt door, unlocked and unbarred, through which the First and Second Heavens emerged. They pooled across the lake, Divinities to the right and Yakkas to the left. Not their shadows, but their true forms. Pure and hale and whole.
Reeri blinked, and there were his hands, long and slender. His heart fluttered.
His.
Fingers flew to his face, traced the square jaw, the rounded nose, and wide, full lips. They tracked the length of his neck, down his bare brown chest. No markings, no scars, no bulging muscles built for battle. It was all him.Hewas allhim.
A snort broke free, and he could not tell if he was laughing or crying. Mayhap both. It did not matter. He closed his eyes, lashes brushing cheekbones for the first time in two centuries. He had missed the tickle. Yet not nearly as much as he had missed his brethren, his family. He paused. For so long, fear had kept him at bay, yet now…
Heart beating so swift he was sure he would fly across the lake, Reeri took a deep breath and faced the Yakkas. He lifted his lashes and took in their measure of him.
It was not filled with derision or blame. Nor hatred or shame.
Only one thing shone bright.
“Reeri.” Ratti’s voice cracked. She slammed him into a tight hug.
A sob broke him, flooded him, cleansed him.
Ratti laughed and wiped away his tears, as she had done for centuries, as he had dared not hope of her doing again. It was better than any dream.
