Page 71 of Her Soul for a Crown
“What, tonight?” He laughed again. The sound grated Reeri’s teeth. “I don’t have the relic on me. Do I look that stupid? Don’t answer that. I’ll send word on when and where to meet. Bring the largest painting you can carry. Better yet”—he nodded to Bithul—“one he can carry.”
“Deal.” Anula shook Nuwan’s hand. Reeri did not miss the way he lingered, the squeeze he gave at the end, nor what it did to his shadow.
“We did it.” Calu clapped his shoulder as Nuwan disappeared into the night. “We have found the Bone Blade! Kama and Sohon will be thrilled. We should bring them sweets and celebrate, all of us. We have only one step left—ah, Anula, where was that pani walalu from?”
The words buzzed like a cicada in the heat.
Only one step left. Freedom was closing in faster than the Maha Equinox. Reerishouldbe elated.
So—his gaze tracked Anula as she led Calu to the food—why was he not?
27
Humidity choked the night air. A lone drop of sweat inched its way down Anula’s back as she watched the Yakkas share a large banana leaf of delicacies, celebrating. All except for the Blood Yakka.
The edges of his mouth tucked into a frown. Anula moved from one vendor to the next, barely taking notice of their wares. She should be celebrating along with them, happy that their unfinished business would soon come to a close. A revelation had occurred to her last night: if his memory-nightmares were to be believed, she and the Blood Yakka were both survivors of a gruesome attack, both driven by the common purpose of defending others. Perhaps he was here to save others from the same fate. Or he was here for vengeance.
A tightness twisted her gut. Still, if the Blood Yakka cared enough to return to save his patrons, why not save Amma? Perhaps he hadn’t cared for Anula. It wasn’t as though she’d been a true believer, even as a child.
She shook the thoughts away. It didn’t matter. What matteredwas the crown and her bargain. Things that couldn’t be had until the Blood Yakka completed his task. So, again, she should be celebrating, as should he. Perhaps they shared the same worry: What if the relic was false?
As if hearing her thoughts, the Blood Yakka glanced up, gaze fraught. It sent a chill down her bones in the same way his nightmares had. Anula broke the connection, walking a short distance away, touching porcelain miniatures of each of the Yakkas. She picked up the one of him. Long, sharp teeth dripped with red paint, but all she could see was fear. All she could hear was his agony.
The odds that Nuwan had the most sought-after relic in the history of the kingdom were small. If only she could—
“Follow me,” a voice whispered in Anula’s ear. “If you want to break a bargain.”
A body brushed past, the head hidden beneath a saaluwa. Anula’s pulse spiked. She glanced over her shoulder, at the Yakkas still carrying on, and back to the figure fading into the crowd. She didn’t need to break it anymore, did she? If the relic was real.
But if it wasn’t…
Anula looked sidelong at the Blood Yakka, picked up the corner of her sari, and rushed after the mysterious woman. She would venture only a short way. If the tether began its murderous assault, she’d return, before any of the Yakkas could come find her. Rounding the corner, she slammed into the woman. Premala’s doe eyes glistened in the night.
The tension in Anula’s shoulders eased. “I knew you were up to something.”
Premala bit her lip. “We’re not supposed to talk. Just follow me.”
Paved stone turned to packed dirt as the kitchen maid, who was not a kitchen maid, wound out of the night market andthrough the tight maze of alleyways to a small home. Anula took a step inside, the tether stretching an inch too far. The feel of wading through paddy fields returned. She checked her arms, the skin solid and whole, for now.
“Cursed with an unsound mind,” Premala whispered, snatching Anula’s attention. “By the Yakka Calu.”
A circle of candles lit the home. Four people huddled in a close ring around a man prostrate on the floor, muttering nonsensical words. A finger of dread curled around Anula’s throat. Her and Calu’s conversation surfaced, along with a mangled elephant pendant and a bargainer named Kushal. Was this who he had prayed for Calu to curse?
“We must sit in the—”
A drum trounced as Premala tripped over it.
“Careful!” came a sharp voice. Anula jumped, not at the voice, but at the mask it hid behind.
Same as the ones from the Blood Yakka’s memory-nightmare.
Made of wood and painted in reds, whites, and blacks, its eyes were dark pits, and its mouth opened in a ghastly snarl. Thick strings of beads hung from the top, down past the woman’s shoulders.
“A-apologies.”
“Sit and hush,” she commanded. “It’s beginning.”
Premala immediately folded on the ground, tugging at Anula’s arm. She met the maid on the floor, trepidation fluttering in her stomach. Chimes rang softly through the circle as the woman in the mask made her way to the center. Bells laced the edges of her sari and the sleeves of her hatte. She placed offerings around the man’s body. A hush fell over the circle.
