Page 124 of Her Soul for a Crown
“Then do you know where the true relic lies?” Calu asked.
“No.”
“Do you know where we are?”
“Also no.”
But she didn’t have to.
An idea formed quickly, and she tugged Reeri to the wall. She squinted in the darkness, yet even without light, she saw her. Guruthuma Thilini slunk around the corner, danced to Anula, and offered her palm, as if she had been following. As if she had been waiting for this moment all along.
Anula placed her hand atop the portrait’s and said, “I need the Bone Blade to save the Heavens and the Earth.”
Thilini smiled.
And sprinted.
Anula had never seen the door before, yet Thilini insisted. Cracking it open revealed not the flowers and thorns of the Pleasure Gardens but a pristine marble floor. The sound of courtiers and guards arguing over their right of entrance hung heavy on the air.
“We’ve already searched the palace,” Anula whispered.
Thilini shook her head, pointed down the hall, her finger bending with the curve of the doorway and aimed at the raja’s bedchamber. They hadn’t searched there. Perhaps they should have—after all, it was known to hold the best of the blessed gifts, one chatty bed frame excluded.
Calu whistled low as they entered. “There are a lot of gifts to check.”
“Less than an entire city,” Sohon said, flicking over candles and upending vases.
“Mayhap it is in one of these,” Kama said, poking at a gilt birdflitting across a mirror frame.
“Or there is another portrait in here that we are meant to find and she will guide us on to the next place,” Calu said.
“There are no Kattadiya portraits in the palace,” Anula said, then paused. “Why can I say their name now?”
“Reeri invoked the power of the bargain,” Kama said, trying to catch a bulbul. “It severed the connection between you and them. You are free. If you do not count us.”
Before, the words might have chilled Anula, sent tremors down her spine or along her arms. Now, there was only a sense of safety. Like a net, or hands to catch her, hold her, keep her safe. Keep her at home.
“Not a portrait, but Kattadiya art all the same,” Reeri said, voice solemn. He pointed to the relief on the ceiling, where Yakkas and Divinities lounged on a bed of clouds, emulating the idea of a peaceful, coexistent cosmos. The sun and stars beamed upon their faces, caring eyes turned toward Earth. It swirled with the same colors as Thilini, shimmered with the same glaze. The edges of faces dull and soft, the pigment artistically faded. It was as if the mural had been painted by the same hand. The hand of the Divinities.
“I knew it was mocking me,” Reeri growled.
Anula craned her neck. If a portrait knew of this painting, so did the Kattadiya. But why would—
Premala’s task.
It clicked, faster than a cart to a horse. The acolytes were placed inside the palace to keep an eye on the relics. Not the blessed gifts, nor the courtiers making bargains, but on the hiding place of the relics.
Where they could be looked upon and not seen.
“Hold this,” Anula said, grabbing a gilt chair and thrusting it on top of a divan.
Reeri held the back as she climbed, reaching an arm into theair. Her fingers brushed the mural, and a soft breeze fluttered through the depiction of the Heavens.Come and see, it sang to her.
Anula rose on her toes and pressed her fingers more firmly. “I’m trying to save souls.” She spoke to it. “I need the Bone Blade.”
The clouds rippled, and the crowd of Divinities stirred. A being with grayed tresses emerged from the back, wearing a lotus crown shining with heavenslight. They plucked it off and pulled out a small blade no larger than their hand.
Anula pressed her fingers harder, until ceiling gave way to canvas. Her hand became one with the painting. She wrapped it around a cool, smooth hilt and pulled back—both her hand and the Bone Blade solidifying.
