Page 38 of Her Soul for a Crown
Apparently, a second bed wasn’t one of them.
Anula lay on one side, the Blood Yakka on the other, his arm nearly falling off the edge. A wide gap spread between them, pulsing like a heartbeat.
“Sidle closer.”
Anula startled at the female voice cooing over her shoulder. Etched in the wood frame of the colossal bed was a carving of the first raja and raejina. Their love story stretched over a garden, a blanket made of flowers the only thing covering them.
The woman flipped her long dark hair over her shoulder. “Be not afraid of him. Your gentle touch will guide him to you.”
A shudder racked Anula’s bones. Either from the image conjured or from the interaction, she didn’t know. Speaking to a blessed gift was much different than watching fish swim in a bathing pool.
“Caress her hair,” the depicted raja whispered loudly to the Blood Yakka. “See her delicate neckline? Kiss it.”
The Yakka tensed, stolen eyes darting to Anula and away.
“Touch me and—”
“I heard you the first time,” the Blood Yakka said, shifting away from the carving.
“Do not be shy.” The raejina giggled at Anula. “He is your husband. Do you not wonder at his warmth? At his strength?”
“No,” Anula asserted. “I wonder why he twisted my bargain to be here.”
The raejina tsked. “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.”
The Blood Yakka choked.
“Cursed Yakkas,” Anula spat, shoving her pillow up against the raejina as she continued her foul advice. If only the blessed gift knew what truly lay in this marriage bed. Noticing his wife’s inability to cast advice, the wooden raja rushed across the gap. Anula pointed a finger at him. “Say another word and I’ll throw you into the fire.”
He harrumphed and settled back silently. This was what courtiers envied? What the Divinities left the kingdom with, to show and prove their unending love?
“Thank the mighty Heavens,” the Blood Yakka murmured.
His relief drew Anula’s anger. “This is your fault. Why are we even in the same bed?”
“Does your marking itch still?”
Invisible ants crawled over her arms. Anula scraped her nails against them. “Yes.”
“That is why. We were apart for too long. The tether wants proximity.”
“We’re in the same room, Blood Yakka—what more does it want?”
He cut her a glance. “Touch.”
That word again. She growled, “Why would you create a tether that demands touch?”
“I did not create it.” His voice was tight, resentful. “Ask the Divinities or Lord Wessamony.”
Of course. The Heavens created everything with balance. Nothing good could exist without a silver lining of bad. Like the mural she stared at above them, the Heavens were filled with light and dark: Divinities draped in white robes. Yakkas drenched in blood.
“You may call me ‘Reeri.’” The Blood Yakka broke the heavy silence. “If you would like. Mayhap friendlier terms would ease the strain.”
“I would not like.” She pulled the blankets tightly toward her. “I bargained for a throne,Blood Yakka, not a friend.”
The gap between them rippled. “Then you will not get one. Good night, Anula.”
Her eyes flashed to him. Rigid as a rock, he slept, blankets only covering one arm. The marking flared again, her fingers twitching, not to scratch this time but to feel. To inch their way across the expanse of bed that could easily fit two concubines and touch the Blood Yakka’s chest.
