Page 82 of Her Soul for a Crown
A woman, swollen with child, was tied to a pyre. A soldier kicked. Bone and baby fractured to the side. Blood dripped betwixt her legs.
“Amma,” Anula whimpered.
A spark struck, fire caught, and Amma rose in flame, choking the only mother Anula would ever have, swallowing the baby sisteror brother she would never meet, never hug, never kiss. Amma’s screams pierced the red sky, and Anula ran. Crying out in the bloodred night, “Why? Why have the Heavens forsaken me?”
Reeri woke covered in sweat, heart quaking.
She had prayed to him. She had asked for help.
And he had not answered.
A whimper sounded at his chest. Anula had returned, and in the throes of the memory-nightmare, had curled into his side, wrapped herself beneath his arms. She flinched under slumber’s hold, tears leaking onto his chest, burning a hole in his skin, his shadow, his soul.
Why?
The weight of the word crushed his bones.
O mighty Heavens and all the wretches betwixt. Anula was a survivor of both human bloodlust and Heavenly neglect. For as Reeri searched for Wessamony’s perfect offering, he had ignored all others, believing his brethren were the only ones to suffer. A half-truth he told himself.
Though humans had shattered her heart,hehad embittered her soul.
Silence in the blackest night, death to all she once loved, the walls, the ire, the distrust—it was all his fault.
Reeri tightened his hold, pressed her close, whispered into her jasmine scented hair, “I am sorry.”
With a sharp breath, Anula awoke. She tore herself from his arms, clawed at the tears.
Reeri reached out. “Anula. I—”
She slapped his hand away and leaped from the bed, shaking. “Don’t.”
“I am sorry, Anula. I am sorry I did not answer. It is my fault.”
“I know!” she snapped.
“Please, Anula.”
“No!” she screamed, another tear escaping. “Thrice-cursed Yakkas, I don’t want to talk about it!”
She pulled on her robe and fled from the room. Fled fromhim—the one who had failed her, stolen her love on Earth and in the Heavens, condemned her to death and nightmares.
Just as he had condemned his brethren.
Reeri fisted the sheets. No more. If Anula had returned, so had the relic. It was time to use it. Time to end the bloody reign of Lord Wessamony of the Second Heavens. Time to make amends for the Yakkas.
And for Anula.
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I am sorry, Anula. I am sorry I did not answer. It is my fault.
The words pulsed with every heartbeat, every step Anula took through the palace. A lump stuck in her throat. How long had she wished to hear those words? To know she hadn’t failed her family?
“Are you all right, my raejina consort?” Bithul asked, forever at her heels.
It is my fault.
“No,” she spat at them both.
