Page 84 of Her Soul for a Crown
“You’re being called for justice, to stand trial for your actions.”
“What?” Sweat beaded on his brow. “I am the prophet. My actions are dictated by the Heavens. They are always just.”
Anula bared her teeth. “Tell that to the villagers of Eppawala. I’ll show you to their graves.”
Heart hammering beneath her palm, Prophet Ayaan flicked his eyes from her to the vial. She tilted it again, a bubble leaning over the lip.
“Wait! Wait!” he screamed. “Lord Wessamony decreed it!”
Anula blanched.
“It was part of the bargain,” he rushed to say. “I beseeched the Heavens for favor. Lord Wessamony answered. The village of Eppawala was to be turned over in search of a relic. Once found, Raja Mahakuli Mahatissa would have the throne for fifty years.”
The words spun webs in Anula’s mind. “Lord Wessamony doesn’t make bargains.”
“Of course he does, he’s the Lord of the Second Heavens!” Prophet Ayaan screeched.
If that were true…
But what if it were a lie?
“Why make a bargain for someone else?”
“I am the prophet, granted position by a raja. We had an understanding.”
Anula pursed her lips, taken back to that night, to the conversation between Dilshan and his soldier. “And the commander?”
“Titles mean nothing without the power of a raja behind them. We needed him as much as he needed the raja.”
The truth of it skittered across her arms, shook the vial in her hand. The man beneath her whimpered again. She narrowed her eyes. “The raja didn’t hold the throne for fifty years, yet Eppawala burned.”
Tears leaked down his cheeks. “It was part of the raja’s bargain with Lord Wessamony, I suppose to rid himself of his greatest threat. That was Dilshan’s doing. I know nothing of it, only that we were meant to find the relic and did not. So the bargain was void.”
A buzzing began low in Anula’s ears.
The edges of her vision tinted red.
Lord Wessamony.
The relic.
A crack of a whip. A Yakka torn in half. Banishment and masked women. The story of Fate and Destiny and the Bone Blade’s true power.Else you will be the Yakkas’ tormentor. For eternity.
Was this the Blood Yakka’s unfinished business?
“You see, my raejina consort.” Prophet Ayaan slowly pushed the vial away. “I have nothing to stand trial for. I was merely servicing my raja, the Kingdom of Anuradhapura, and the Heavens themselves. I am innocent of wrongdoing.”
Look away.
The buzz built and rose. And all Anula could see was a village of friends falling. Thaththa crashing to his knees. Amma and baby swallowed by smoke. Auntie Nirma guttering in her arms. All her loved ones snuffed out of existence, out of her life, as though they were merely candle flame.
“No,” Anula asserted. “You chose to let people suffer. For that, you will meet justice.”
Wrenching from his grip, Anula slammed the vial against his forehead. Glass and poison cut deep. His scream filled the morning air as it burned through his flesh, ate at his eyes, leaked into his mouth.
He choked, once.
Mahakuli Mahatissa.
