Page 44 of Her Soul for a Crown
Reeri hissed, “Quiet, please.”
Anula sighed. The guards exchanged a look, stepped outside, and closed the doors.
“I feel nothing,” Calu whispered.
“Try again.” Reeri’s shadow stirred, the want for a tendril to snap growing. Reeri touched his way from one end of the shrine to the other, eyes closed and focusing. Yet time slipped by, and the only sense that rose was his frustration. Until—
A tapping echoed softly. Reeri’s breath stilled. He opened his eyes…to a foot beating an impatient rhythm into the floor. Anula leaned against the doorframe.
He growled, “Is something on your mind?”
“This is taking too long. I have other places to be.”
Of course she did. With her poisons, no doubt. Heavens forbid she be of help to him, tuck away her ire and reciprocate the kindness he offered to her. “Mayhap I should abandon my work and with it the promise of your crown. Would that better fit your schedule?”
Anula fumed. “Your ‘business’ wouldn’t be incomplete if you hadn’t killed so many people. Perhaps you aren’t worthy of a second chance. Perhaps you’re wasting your time and mine.”
The words bit, as if released from his own mind and turned on him like a rabid dog. “If you are so faithless, why bargain?”
“Momentary insanity, I suppose.” She spun, slamming through the shrine doors and down the stairs. Bithul chased after.
“The tether!” Reeri shouted.
“Don’t care!” was all he heard back as she disappeared.
“Heavens, she is a handful.” Calu whistled low. “Should we go after her?”
Reeri’s shadow writhed. The empty echo returned to his arms, and he scratched it away. “No. Let her learn the consequence. We must focus on the blade.”
Lest her thirst for power and blood fractured her soul beyond use. Any remaining guilt he had vanished on the breeze. He would not be tearing apart an innocent soul.
He would simply be finishing what she had already started.
17
He is here for you. To give you a pleasure from the Heavens. To make you feel the cosmos explode into being between your legs.
Anula’s fingers tingled, as did a particular soft spot beneath her sari. The image of the shadow and its sharp features buried between her thighs. Her fingers entwined in wisps of shadow hair, guiding him—
Cursed Yakkas, what was she thinking?
No, it wasn’t her, it was the damned headboard putting thoughts into her mind. Though his shadow was objectively handsome, it didn’t change the fact that he was not truly her husband. He wasn’t trustworthy. He didn’t give her the feeling of safety or home. He did not care for her.
Beyond that, Anula knew the position she was in. She had chosen a life devoid of a true marriage, in which a single thought sparked the pooling of desires, a smoldering stare struck a thirst that could only be quenched by touch. She’d let go of that dream years ago. She shouldn’t be subjected to its taunting now.
She shook out her hands as she marched through the innercity. The beat of Bithul’s cane quickly caught up. If Thaththa knew what ideas the blessed gifts put into one’s heads—she cut that thought off, too. She ignored the ache of it, how it had doubled this morning, the first without her auntie. She chewed the blessed gifts’ words and spat them out in the dirt.
The Blood Yakka was not here for her. The quiver of the tether below her heart proved that as it tugged at her, like the reins of a horse, pulling her toward the stupa, toward the Yakkas, demanding she stay by his side. He craved power and worship. The tether was merely a way to force it. No, the Yakka was here on a delusional search for a lost relic. As though he could do what centuries of treasure seekers couldn’t. Even if he did find it, what would he do with it? He wasn’t human. Could cutting the Hand of Death do anything for him?
Perhaps that was a moot point. Most relics bought and bartered were counterfeit, like the one Nuwan owned. Whatever the Blood Yakka found would probably do nothing, which didn’t bode well for Anula. Unless finding a false relic caused him to see the futility in his search and made him leave. But if it didn’t, would he continue?
Justice had waited long enough. Auntie Nirma had chosenthistime for Anula to act. Said she was prepared, ready. That it was time to strike and strike hard.
The tether shuddered again as Anula inched farther away. She clenched a fist against it. The Blood Yakka could have the prophet, for a while longer. But the rest of the list would answer justice’s call.
Now.
The jewels on her fan earrings and the bangles along her arms jangled as she strode purposefully through the courtyard toward the administration building, Bithul forever at her heels.
