Page 107 of Her Soul for a Crown
Anula cried out. The mehendhi on her arms shattered, pieces flying into the air only to dive back into her flesh, knitting itself together. Again and again. Blood oozed and vanished, flowed and disappeared.
Kama. Had she moved? But why? She knew what would happen if the tether stretched too far.
“Anula?”
The tether screamed, unlike anything before. It wasn’t a rope or a bridle tugging tight. It writhed one moment, as if cut in two, and wrenched taut the next, as if it’d only ever been one. Back and forth. Gone and there and gone again.
“Something’s wrong.” Anula gritted her teeth, then tripped as she was suddenly in a court, nails tearing shadow, her stomach souring—but when she blinked, she was back in the cave.
A cold emptiness flooded her. No, not her. It coursed down the tether and crashed against her heart, but it came from Reeri, agony swelling, cresting. Cursed blessings, what was happening to him?
A sob broke her lips. Sandani rushed forward, yanking Premala away. Anula could only imagine what they thought. Probably a clear example of the influence of the Yakkas and the evil they bestowed.
“I have to check on the raja.” Anula took an agonizing step toward the door. And then another. And another. Her skin flayed and knit. Drops of blood trailed behind her.
“I was right,” Premala gasped. “The raja is of one of those possessed by the Yakkas.”
Anula stumbled but refused to fall. “I have to check on him.”
“Why? He’s a Yakka. He doesn’t need you.”
“Yes, he does.”
The knowing settled deep. She swung the door open.
“Look what he’s doing to you! The Yakkas don’t care about you, Anula. It’s a lie. Don’t be fooled into caring for him.”
Anula’s heart skipped a beat. Fear drove her steps now, as it had before—when Auntie Nirma collapsed with a spear in her chest; when Thaththa choked on liquefied bowels; when Amma lit up like a fire at a festival.
“Too late,” Anula mumbled. She’d vowed to never be fooled by the Heavens again, yet her feet carried her swiftly to the palace.
A fool once again.
***
“Reeri!” Anula shouted, skidding onto her knees. He lay in the center of the bed, sweat-slicked and pale, as if he’d been sick for days.
“The palace,” he rasped, eyes fluttering.
“Are you all right?” Anula’s hands wavered over Reeri’s body. Kama had not been in the gardens when she’d emerged from the caves. Calu and Sohon were nowhere in sight as she ran through the halls. She flung open the bedchamber doors, and Reeri sat up, only to crash back against the pillows. Her breath had stalled.
Pink nelum, kaneru, thel endaru—Anula’s fingers tripped over sapphires, unsure which could help. He had no wounds; there was no blood. Even the tether had steadied. But her heart ached with fear and dread and guilt and shame.
“Here,” Reeri rasped again. She couldn’t hear the rest.
“What?” Anula leaned closer, smelled cinnamon and death. “What happened?”
Reeri forced himself up, frightened like a child in the night. “If I fail—”
Anula shushed him. He wasn’t making sense. Had it been a nightmare? Perhaps it was a bad reaction to her tincture. She reached up and brushed a stray hair from his sticky forehead. “You aren’t going to fail.”
He grabbed her wrist, held her hand at his cheek. “What if I do?”
The touch was warm, sizzling up her arms. His deep brown eyes blazed. A shadow shuddered just beneath. The real Reeri. The truth in the lie.
“You won’t,” she said, taking his other hand.
“But—”
