Page 80 of Her Soul for a Crown
Premala cleared her throat. “It’s not as simple as picking one at random. I have to know about your bargain.”
“How do they determine the mask for those who don’t seek help?”
“The guruthuma has a…conversation with them before.”
“Ah.”
“We can avoid that,” Premala said quickly. “Just tell me who you bargained with and for what.” She stared at the wall of gruesome faces, ready to grab the one that spoke to her, ready to hear Anula’s secrets.
“No.”
Premala blanched. “What?”
“I never agreed to tell you about my bargain, and I’m not going to.” It was one thing for Bithul to know, a man vetted for his allegiance to the kingdom. Premala was still in question. The Kattadiya, though—with their masks and their chants and their veneration of the Divinities—they were aligned with only themselves. Which meant they weren’t her allies.
“But without knowing, I can’t—”
The door swung open, and Guruthuma Hashini stepped through. Hands laced behind her back, she peered down her nose at Premala. At her empty hands.
“You have chosen no mask, acolyte?”
Fear widened the blacks of Premala’s eyes. “I—I don’t—I’m not sure if…”
The guruthuma sucked her teeth. “This is the simplest of tasks.”
“I’m sorry.” Premala bent her head, shoulders slumping.
Guruthuma Hashini took two powerful steps and slapped Premala’s face. The crack echoed.
Anula clenched a fist. “That was unnecessary. She’s doing her best.” Despite Anula’s own defiance. Perhaps she should’ve had Premala explain the masks, picked it out herself without having to tell her secret.
“Kattadiya do not act for themselves, only for the protection of others,” the guruthuma snapped. No greeting, no bow. “There is no place for a simpering, spineless acolyte. Our obligation to the kingdom demands strength against those willing to place themselves in the darkness. Either she is worthy or worthless. And you, it does not matter to me whether you wear a crown or a banana leaf. You are cursed and so have brought a curse upon our kingdom. Interrupt the ways of the Kattadiya again, and it will be the First Heavens you deal with next.” She spat at Premala’s feet. The girl’s lips trembled. “Choose the mask, gather the dolla, or return to the hovel from whence you came.”
The guruthuma marched from the room, door shaking.
“I see your leader is filled to the brim with Heavenly love,” Anula leered. Then it dawned on her, why Premala always checked over her shoulder. It wasn’t for the palace cook. “She’s the one you’re afraid will find out about your girl.”
Premala’s head snapped up in terror. “Shhhh.”
“It’s all right,” Anula said, soft and low. An image surfaced, of a woman kissing Auntie Nirma’s cheeks, staring at her as if she’d hung the moon. But there could never be two wives. Not in this age, but perhaps the next. Anula nodded to the walls. “Tell me about the masks. We’ll find the right one together.”
“That’s not how it’s done. If I can’t even do this…”
“I’m the one making it difficult.” Anula clenched and unclenched a fist. Then reached out and squeezed the girl’s hand. “No one has to know. And you can get the dolla yourself. You justneed the mask first, right?”
Premala nodded slow, seeing the value in Anula’s suggestion. She pointed at a mask with large streaming tears. “The Yakka of Lust…”
Anula listened, waiting to hear of the Blood Yakka. Eyes flickering to the door, she wondered if the stories of old had buried the Kattadiya for a reason. If perhaps the First Heavens had created monsters out of men.
Monsters more dangerous than the Yakkas.
30
“You are brooding again,” Calu said, picking at the leftover food on his platter.
Reeri had taken to pacing hours ago. His gaze held firm the window, his sides slick with sweat as humidity wrapped tight as a blanket. Dark clouds hung heavy, pressing against the shadow, squeezing out his breath. “I do not brood.”
The Maha season’s monsoons were nearing.
