Page 2 of Her Soul for a Crown
But Nuwan was quick. He pushed her against the wall, sweat pooling under his tunic. “Let’s see what skills you’ve honed for our blessed raja.”
He hugged her tightly, flexing his chest muscles, his arms and abs, as though they were the way to a woman’s heart. Or much farther south.
This wasn’t part of the deal. Only coin was to be exchanged for her name on the Yakkas-damned list. Peddling desire was meant for another day. Another man.
“No,” Anula asserted.
Nuwan’s fingers didn’t want to listen; neither did his mouth. But Anula knew that some lessons were best learned the hard way. Tripping her fingers along the two-tiered gold necklace at her throat, she swiped a sapphire and ran it across her lips. She grabbed Nuwan’s mouth and kissed.
His surprise hardened against her leg. Until his heart seized, and he pulled away in confusion, body convulsing. He clutched his chest and crumpled to the ground.
Where he should have been paralyzed in pain.
Not dead.
Perhaps she had mixed the ingredients wrong. Or had added too much thel endaru seed. Or perhaps she had used the wrong vial altogether.
Sweeping her dark waves over her shoulder, Anula slid another finger across the necklace at her throat—the one her mother had used to wear. Diamonds and sapphires dripped across her collarbone from a band at mid-neck. Centered on the top tier was the largest gem—the one she’d skipped brushing her fingers against before, for not all the sapphires were mere gems. Some werestoppers, the design concealing small vials of a particularly deadly poison.
The second lesson she’d learned was that though the Age of Usurpers might prize physical prowess, one only needed to be intelligent enough to dance around them. Dominate them. Rule them.
Poison—the craft held an endless array of ways to stop a heart, and if studied well, a myriad of tinctures to incapacitate, dull, and deceive an enemy.
Or it was supposed to.
Dread trickled down her spine. Anula plucked a smaller diamond from the second tier. Those held antidotes. She stroked nimbly over the top; then she stooped to touch Nuwan’s lips. He stayed purple, his breath gone from his lungs, his blood crusting in the corners of his mouth.
She wiped the coating off her lips. The sealant prevented any poison from seeping into her own skin. She’d realized early on that testing her mixtures held a high level of risk. What would have been the point in learning the craft in the first place if she accidentally killed herself?
A bell tolled from the inner-city shrine, tearing Anula’s gaze from Nuwan.
Cursed Yakkas.The guard switch.
She glanced back at the dead man, a knot coiling in her stomach. But it wasn’t as though he were an innocent. Actions mattered more than words, and Nuwan’s were as repugnant as elephant dung.
Perhaps this was a blessing in disguise. Auntie Nirma might even say the Heavens had a hand in it. She steeled herself, forcing the knot to unravel. If it was good enough for Auntie Nirma, it was good enough for her. Quickly, Anula reached down. Dead men had no need for coin or relics. Perhaps she could use both in a future bargain. A hand wrapped around her wrist. Anula screamed.
A coughing, sputtering sound filled the alley. Nuwan wheezed, “You b—b—”
“Nuwan!” Anula clutched her own heart, relief nearly drowning it. She hadn’t botched the tincture after all. The effects were just greater than the book suggested.
“You tried to kill me.” He yanked back the relic. “What kind of woman are you?”
Anula stood, a weight lifted from her shoulders. “A woman with ambition, who isn’t afraid to see things through.” The bells tolled again. “My name better be on that list. Not all poisons come with a remedy.”
She didn’t wait to hear Nuwan’s response. The guards would be switching any moment. And if she wanted to be the next concubine the raja chose to spend the night with, she couldn’t be caught missing.
Straightening out her sari, realigning her gold head chain and bell-drop earrings, bangles clinking as she moved, Anula briskly made her way through the paved streets. The stupas to the south peaked over the gate. The lofty white bulbs with tall spires stood silent, towering over the people, reminding them of their subservience, demanding their prayer and their allegiance to either the First or Second Heavens, or both if one was holy enough. All were things Anula would never give to beings who’d long since forsaken their people.
She headed north, toward the colorfully decorated palace, a bright beacon against the dense green jungle, as exacting as the stupas and calling for its own version of unquestionable faith and loyalty. People filtered in and out, mostly in. Only the wealthiest resided in the inner city, made up the raja’s court, and decided the fate of the kingdom’s people—yet never ventured outside the sixty-foot-tall iron gate to mingle or empathize.
Anula hurried across the courtyard, passing the vast garden thatcurled around the administrative buildings, and skidded to a stop outside the concubine estate. A female guard stood sentry, where there should have been none. At least, that had been the bargain.
Auntie Nirma’s network of allies ran as deeply as tree roots, spreading from the village of Kekirawa to the palace in Anuradhapura. They knew who inside the administration was for the kingdom and who merely pretended. They’d made deals to choose Anula as a concubine for the raja, giving Anula and her poison a chance to end the Age of Usurpers. With Auntie Nirma at the helm, she couldn’t fail.
Unless she was caught outside.
She picked up a stone and threw it around the corner. It smashed into the wall, alerting the sentry, who drew out a sword and rushed to fight off the fiend who dared threaten the Raja’s Jewels. Never suspecting that one of those Jewels could protect herself better with the jewels at her throat.
