Page 28 of Her Soul for a Crown
“For Anuradhapura!” the usurper cried, returning Anula to herself.
The hall erupted into victorious chants. Chora Naga’s men howled at the ceiling, at the open-air windows and terrace, calling to the guards and army outside. She couldn’t stay any longer. But…
An ache started in her chest.
No.Auntie Nirma had taught her to hone her grief, not succumb to it. She wouldn’t fail now. Anula pulled away from her auntie’s body, grasped her skirt, and ran. Through the halls, past door after door, room after room, her heart beat erratically. Leave. Go. Hurry.
But where?
She skidded to a stop. The concubines would take her back, but Chora Naga knew her. There was little chance he’d choose her as a wife. She wasn’t sure she could keep her hand from the poisons long enough for it to matter anyway. Chora Naga had stolen two things from her: Auntie Nirma and Mahakuli Mahatissa. His justice would come swiftly.
She should go back to Kekirawa, then, to converge with her allies, what was left of them, and to make new ones. Devise a new plan.
A pang pierced her heart. Auntie Nirma wouldn’t be returning to Kekirawa. Her nephew would be. The heir to Uncle Manoj’s fortune and estate, including the secret library. Still, she could bargain for shelter, gather their notes and books, and start building a new circle of political aides, stay until…
Until what? Another usurper came? One who wouldn’t remember that she’d been a raja’s concubine, proposed to be married? Anula’s shuddered. Leaving wasn’t an option.
She ripped the sari pota from her hair and threw it into the void of the hall, turned to the wall, and screamed at a painting. Had it all been for nothing? The long hours of study, books her only friends, justice her only dream. Memorizing Uncle Manoj’s journal. Supporting Auntie Nirma’s efforts.
They were supposed to die at her hand!
Prophet Ayaan. Commander Dilshan. Raja Mahakuli Mahatissa. Every man and woman who used their power to crush others, who forgot who they were supposed to protect, who cared for no one but themselves.
She was supposed to be raejina—the first raejina of Anuradhapura.
She was supposed to bring in an age of peace. Change the kingdom for good, in her parents’ name, for their justice and the justice of all others forevermore.
Thatwas what she wanted.
Thatwas what Auntie Nirma had lived for.Diedfor. It couldn’t all be for nothing. It couldn’t all end here. Anula wouldn’t allow it. She wouldn’t fail the one who’d raised her when everyone else had turned their backs.
Yakkas. Auntie Nirma’s last word rang in her head. But whatdid it mean? Anula kicked the wall. “I don’t need a riddle. I need a Yakkas-damned miracle.”
She took a sharp breath as the idea slithered up her spine.
Clutching her skirt, Anula ran to the last place she’d ever considered useful.
Beads of sweat clung to her forehead and dripped down the line between her breasts as she crossed the threshold of the shrine. Fingers of smoke reached out for her, coiling around her wrists and drawing her inside. Rows of candles lined the walls. Depictions of Yakkas hung on the left, Divinities on the right. In the center sat a low table, offerings brimming.
The offering.
She hadn’t given one since that night. Amma had always said that an offering could be anything—food, fabric, worship, devotion. It must only be a sacrifice. The greater the request, the greater the price.
Anula touched her necklace. Parting with it would certainly be a sacrifice. One she wasn’t willing to give. Perhaps the other jewelry? No, they meant nothing to her. Neither did her sari. Perhaps she could offer devotion, the one thing she’d promised never to give to anything that demanded faith. The thought set her skin crawling.
Devotion was a worthy sacrifice, but was it great enough? Her request was certainly large. What composed a great sacrifice?
Their faces appeared suddenly. Amma. Thaththa. Auntie Nirma. They had all lived and died for her. Loved her, heart and soul.
A great offering, given at great cost.
That held much more value than devotion. Anula swallowed the bile that threatened to rise in her throat. She didn’t allow thequestion of what they’d do with it to rise, too. She pulled out an earring and stabbed the metal end into her palm, only one Yakka in her mind.
Blood dripped slowly onto the table, hitting the wood with a splash.
“Great Blood Yakka of the Second Heavens, hear my prayer. Grant me the first crown as raejina of Anuradhapura.” Anula spoke loudly. “For today, I offer my soul.”
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