Page 46 of Her Soul for a Crown
The men ruffled.
“Where is your evidence?” one squawked.
“Yes, has another man witnessed any of this?” another crowed.
“Plenty have,” Anula said. “They’re all in chains or starving in their homes.”
“A reputable man,” Naina sighed. “If not, then there is no foundation in your accusations. We do not take our duty lightly and therefore do not listen to courtly gossip.”
Pain pierced her skin like a needle. Anula hissed and scratched at her arms, but forced her focus on the ministers choosing to turn a blind eye. “You’re meant to keep the kingdom running peacefully, to ensure the laws are kept byeveryone. To protect the people from traitors.”
“And you”—Naina slammed a fist—“are meant to be seen and not heard, RaejinaConsort.”
Anula’s lip curled. “Careful, I may take offense to that, and the raja may hear of it.”
“Take what you will, but take it to heed. Your position is not here; it carries no weight. I don’t doubt the raja will agree. Women have no place in running a kingdom. If you feel so strongly, by all means, speak such gossip to the raja. That’s a wife’s right. But wife to us, you are not. Please allow us to continue our work and rest assured that we know how. As you inevitably know yours.”
Anula flushed at the implication.
Naina raised a hand toward the door. It was a dismissal. A dressing down.
Heat crackled along her arms, and the tether yanked. Anula stumbled, swallowing a gasp. The skin beneath her bangles splintered, like sun-dried dirt. A corner curled and flaked, a drop of red leaked out.
Cursed Yakkas.
Gritting her teeth, Anula stared up at the men. She couldn’t let them see this, see her weak or wounded. For their eyes filled with truth as quickly as an irrigation tank in the monsoon rains.
They would never listen to a concubine, a woman, a wife. Not even the raja’s.
The fact that Naina dared speak to her in such a tone spokevolumes of how consorts had been treated in the past, how they were seen, how they were valued. Naina feared no repercussion because there wouldn’t be any, had never been any. They cared only for position, and hers was not on the throne.
Yet.
She spun to the door, anger vibrating through her veins, flaming against her heart. Or was that the tether again?
“Our conversation won’t be forgotten,” she promised.
Nor would it be forgiven.
The door clanged closed, and Anula collapsed to the floor.
“Raejina Consort?” Bithul’s voice sounded far away.
Finally, she let her breath rattle, her heart hammer. Fingers shook as she tore the bangles off. Brittle skin crumbled. She tried to hold the pieces together, tried to hold back the tears, but panic rose as the tether jerked and jabbed and fishtailed. Strips of her skin peeled off, hurtled through air, and snapped toward the Blood Yakka.
Anula screamed as darkness pulled her under.
18
The inner-city shrine had been as devoid of Divinity relics as it had been people. Reeri searched and searched again, until frustration needled so sharply that he could barely focus.
It was not until he stepped foot into the palace, the court’s attention clinging to his every footstep, that he realized his chest was stinging. The pain quivered once before quaking through skin and bone, striking as fast and bright as lightning. Reeri canted forward and caught himself on a warbling statue. His shadow shuddered, threatening to rupture. The tether was quickly fraying.
“Are you all right?” Calu reached for Reeri but stumbled as a pulse beat through him, too. “Anula.”
“Where is she?” Reeri hissed, clutching his chest.
Ratti said the tether would harm her, mar her, far more than it would him. He was the honey, and she was the bee. She needed to be near, lest she become susceptible to wounds that might render her soul offering void.
