Page 53 of Her Soul for a Crown
Reeri craned his neck. If only a clue could be found. Yet, instead of neatly transcribed notes, a drawing of a landscape and a wedding peeked out. Reeri plucked it from his hands.
“Hey!”
“We are racing against time and you read folktales?”
“Oh!” Calu bent forward. “Does it have a gruesome ending?”
“It is a story of love.” Kama’s eyes widened. “The prophet writes in his spare time.”
Reeri imagined tendrils snapping. “Does everyone have the attention span of a mosquito?”
“Calm down,” Calu said, lifting the book out of Reeri’s grasp and holding it high over a jumping Sohon. “We are well aware of what is at stake. We need only a few moments to blow off steam. You should try it sometime, mayhap unclench those tight—”
“Do not finish that sentence,” Reeri growled. He squeezed the railing, eyes on blue skies. “Please, focus.”
“I was going to say shoulders,” Calu said, as though it were true. “But since you asked so nicely… An offering of our truest essence is a rare find. Elevated bargains will be required.”
“Yes.” Reeri let out a breath. “Yet if made properly, we can have them by week’s end.”
“Easy for you to say—yours is a mere vial of blood.” Sohon snatched back the book, scrutinizing it as if Calu’s hands were made of fire. “Do you know what it takes to convince someone to write down their secrets?”
Calu scoffed. “A piece of paper with words? That is nothing compared to a product of an unsound mind. Most people do not want to relinquish control of their minds even for a moment, let alone long enough to create an offering by their own hand.”
The three gazed at Kama, appraising the Yakka of Lust. Blood was one thing, as easily given as it was taken. A cut on the finger and Reeri would have his essence. Yet Kama…
Round eyes, nearly as large as her true self’s, flitted betwixt them. “Do you think mine to be the hardest?”
“Not many are comfortable carving hearts from living men,” Reeri said.
She smiled, sharp and spritely. “No, only those with a great passion. Ah, I wonder which human burns with it.”
Bloodlust, vengeance, fury. Reeri could think of one.
***
The breeze played with wisps of Anula’s hair as Reeri entered the bedchamber. She had not stayed with him at either shrine, nor had she ventured far enough for the tether to do more than quaver. Mayhap she had learned her lesson.
A maid plated the low table with Suwandel rice, jackfruit curry, seeni sambal, and plenty of ripe mangoes. Anula smiled at her, sweet and sincere. It did not falter as she turned it on him. Caution rippled. Those lips were liars. He had seen how they killed.
“Hungry?” she asked, pouring them each palm wine.
“What is this?”
“My peace offering. You were right, we’re in this together. Let me help.”
Crossing his legs, he sat. Though the words were right, his intuition flared. Yet that may not be fair. He and Anula had certain similarities. Perhaps she had seen the error in her ways and now resolved to locate the relic. The faster she found it, the faster she gained her crown and, he mused, the faster she avenged her dead and protected those in her dreams.
“Tell me why you’re so intent on finding the Bone Blade in the shrines.” She picked at the food. “Nothing the prophet told us leads there.”
This was how it should have been from the start. Though Anula did not need to know details of how her offering would be used, he must be forthright about finding the relic or risk time running out.
Reeri took a sip of wine. “The stories of old are half-truths. You must see betwixt the lies.”
Fate, Destiny, he explained it all, including what he believed was the Divinities’ riddle. The Heavens loved wordplay.
“And the shrines?” she asked, opening another bottle of palm wine.
A flush crept over Reeri’s cheeks. He had not felt the warm touch of wine in centuries. It did not sting with the heat of the sun like his hands had when he had touched her—a sensation he would not mind feeling again.
