Page 39 of Her Soul for a Crown
Do you not wonder at his warmth? His strength?
Yes, the tether responded, tingling with curiosity. It urged her to trace the outline of the elephant, the pattern of swirls on his stomach, to follow the drip of the line down his torso, along his hips, beneath his sarong. Where did it end?
Anula tore her gaze away and shoved fisted hands behind her back. This was nonsense. A distraction from her purpose. The Yakkas must complete their business. Tomorrow.
She wouldn’t waste another minute thinking about him.
***
Laughter rose high.
Anula opened her eyes to color, to faces, to food steaming on banana leaves. A small gathering surrounded her, the people laughing and eating, children playing a game with rocks.
“We would not have reason to celebrate without you, Reeri, our Blood Yakka,” an old woman said, passing Anula another banana leaf, this one heavy with a mountain of rice. She breathed in the scent—maa-wee rice. The warmth melted her heart, tugged a smile on her lips.
“To the Yakkas who protect us from disease.” A man raised a coconut.
Her smile fell. How did she know the type of rice?
“To the Yakkas who bring us love,” a woman said, beaming down at a young child braiding the hair of a lovely being.
Being.Not woman. Why would she think it like that? Anula eyed her, the one whose hair was twisting into a plait. She was too tall to be a human. Too bony. Too sharp.
And what had they called Anula?
Reeri. Blood Yakka.
Anula glanced at her hands. Dropped the banana leaf.
Where smooth brown skin covered in mehendhi should have been were arms as hairy as any man.
Her eyes flicked back to the other being. It cocked its head. “What’s wrong, Reeri?”
It couldn’t be a Yakka. It had no horns, no fangs, no scales. Only skin a deep cinnamon color, a wolfish grin, and…
Saffron eyes.
The world shifted, rumbled, and a strike of lightning blinded her. When the village reappeared, the people were gone. Silence sounding louder than laughter. Dread curled around her spine.
Thump.
A weight landed in her lap, and she swallowed a scream. A bloody ear, sharpened at the tip, bled out on the banana leaf.
“The fault lies entirely with you.” A voice boomed. The village disappeared in a blink, and Anula stood in a court she’d only ever seen in a painting hung in Eppawala’s stupa. Washed white in ivory and marble, it glistened with sunlight and starshine. But a river of shadows cut through, tall beings with pointed ears and saffron eyes. Her breath rattled.
A serrated whip lashed out, drawing tears and terror and shredded shadow.
Anula squeezed her eyes shut. A hand jerked her chin up, a voice whispered in her ear, “Watch, Reeri. Look and see what you have done.”
A scream pierced the raja’s bedchamber.
“Cursed Yakkas, what was that?” Anula fought off the tangle of blankets.
The Blood Yakka scrambled, reaching a hand toward her. “Are you all right?”
She swatted at it. “Get away from me. What was that?”
“What was what?”
