Page 106 of Her Soul for a Crown
“To continue being on your side.”
“Since when have you been on my side? You’ve made it clear that you are a Kattadiya, and that I must be, too, thanks to a blood oath I wasn’t aware I took. You’re the one who has lied to me for an underground sect trying to kill beings of the Heavens, while actually killing people who make bargains. A sect that tells you that you are nothing, that you must prove your worth, that won’t accept you for who you are even if you do prove them wrong. And you blame me? Why are the two of you even here?”
Sandani sat straighter. “It’s my birthright. My mother, her mother, her mother before her, and so on for centuries have been Kattadiya. And Premala has been given the chance to carry on her stepmother’s tradition.”
Anula scoffed. “Didn’t you say that tradition isn’t always right?”
“It isn’t always wrong either,” Sandani argued.
“You can’t have it both ways.”
“Yes, you can.”
Anula rolled her eyes. “This chance then, is it me? Is that why I, the person who brought back the Yakkas, is being taken care of by an acolyte instead of the guruthuma?”
Sandani shook her head. “Not at first.”
Premala shushed her, sliding the mask off her face.
“What was it at first?”
“Nothing, it’s not important,” Premala rushed to say. “Please, can we practice? It’s getting late.”
“Does it have to do with why you’re in the palace kitchens?”
“Anula.”
“Is that how you met? You both have the same task?”
“All acolytes spend time in the palace,” Sandani said. Premala glared at her.
“I would ask why, but it seems futile.”
“It is,” Premala said, slamming the mask on her face once more. She let out a soft yip. “Now, please, let’s practice.”
“I thought we were friends.”
Premala grabbed Anula’s arm. She was stronger than she looked. “Lie down. I’ve got the new dolla to place around you.”
Anula dug in her heels. “Why won’t you tell me why you’re in the palace?”
“Why won’t you let me do my duty?”
“Why won’t you explain?”
“For prayer’s sake, Anula! Please! The guruthuma will be here soon to check on our progress.”
Sandani’s eyes flicked to the door. Anxiety clammed Premala’s hands, sweat slick on Anula’s arms.
“You’re both frightened of her.” It was not a question. Faces of the women in Auntie Nirma’s network flashed. Their loyalty tied to the facts of poverty and abuse, their dream of a future where they didn’t bleed, didn’t bruise, didn’t cower. Where they could live the dream of love. Anula lowered her voice, her hand drifting up. It paused for moment in the air, then landed softly on Premala’s shoulder. “You don’t have to stay. Come with me.”
“No,” Premala snapped. “The First Heavens created us, chose us, blessed us, and tasked us to protect the people from the influence of the Yakkas!”
Anula pulled Premala close. “That doesn’t mean—”
Bright white pain flared, bending Anula over. Blinded, she hit the floor, as though a fire-heated blade cut her in half.
Premala snapped back. “What’s happening?”
