Page 79 of Her Soul for a Crown
“Please,” Premala squeaked. “I’m just an acolyte. My duty is to get you inside, if you are worthy.”
“Then what, all will be revealed?”
Premala slowly shook her head. “I only know my duties. I can’t say anything else.”
Anula tensed. She looked to the portrait, hand still extended, and back the way they had come. Perhaps she shouldn’t do this. Perhaps she was wrong and the relic was real; perhaps the next step wouldn’t take long and she’d have her completed bargainsoon.
But what if she didn’t?
“Fine,” Anula huffed and placed her hand on the stone. She half expected it to stretch, like the paintings, to swallow her whole and take her to where she needed to go. Instead, she felt a prick. Small and quick, like a mosquito bite. Blood bubbled on Anula’s palm. Then Guruthuma Thilini danced along the wall, disappearing around a corner.
“Thank the Heavens.” Premala’s shoulders sagged with relief. She pulled Anula forward, chasing the portrait.
Another tunnel, another corner, and the portrait paused at a door. It swung open, revealing a room full of terrible masks.
Bloodied eyes, bloodied mouths. Sharp teeth dripping with blue saliva and grayed flesh.
“What a beautiful gallery,” Anula murmured.
“Isn’t it?” Premala breathed, the sarcasm flying overhead like a bulbul. “Each is unique, used for specific curses, specific Yakkas, specific bargains. The first step in a tovil ceremony is choosing the right mask.”
“How?”
Premala’s gaze drifted slowly, teeth worrying her bottom lip.
“What, is this something else I can’t know?”
“You can. You’ve been deemed worthy by First Guruthuma Thilini and willingly aligned yourself with us. It’s only… Well, Kattadiya don’t just help those who seek them out. We can feel when someone has struck a bargain. Their energy flows differently. Since going underground, the Kattadiya have honed ways to seek out bargainers, break bargains, and heal the cursed, without them asking for help.”
The door clanged shut behind them.
“Then, if I hadn’t made the deal with you that night…?”
Premala swallowed. “We would’ve eventually found you,raejina consort or not.”
“And what?”
Masks and blood and shadows ripping in the night flashed.
“We aren’t the evil ones,” Premala insisted. “The Yakkas are. That’s why they were banished.”
A wave of anxiety swept over Anula. It’s what the stories of old told, but she didn’t believe them anymore. The problem was that she had no idea of the truth, of where the lies began and where they ended. If only a trusted ally could tell her.
“Is that why you work in the palace, to feel out any bargains made?”
Premala wrung her hands. “Part of it. I mean—no. I mean, I’m sorry, Raejina—Anula. I can’t tell you that. Can we focus? Guruthuma Hashini will be here soon to check our progress. The tovil is an intricate ceremony.”
Anula tucked the information away for later. Her suspicions had been right about the maid she’d met in the gardens, and now she knew there was more to the banishment, to the Yakkas and the Heavens. The weight of all the unknown pressed on Anula’s shoulders.
“How intricate?” she asked.
“Each ceremony is entirely unique.” Premala’s eyes grew wide, in excitement or anxiety Anula couldn’t tell. “It can take days, even weeks, for a caster to prepare. First, we find the right mask. That’s my purpose for tonight’s meeting. The candles and dolla offerings are determined by the mask. Those can take time to gather as well. Next is the dance itself. Though the majority of tovils are performed the same, the more complicated bargains require more complicated movements. The guruthuma is in charge of that. The Divinities themselves give her the instructions; then she teaches it to the caster.”
“You’re saying the tovil won’t be performed tonight?”
Premala bit her lip. “I’m sorry my raej—Anula—no. If we could just focus now, I will work night and day to have your tovil ready as soon as possible.”
“By all means,” Anula said, waving her hand at the wall.
