Page 65 of The Primal of Blood and Bone (Blood and Ash #6)

POPPY

My lips flattened as a stinging iciness slowly crept into my veins. I moved so I could keep both Ancients in my line of sight. “You’re wrong. Both of you.”

“We’re not, and you know it. It’s not the act itself we disagree on,” Lirian objected. “It’s the aftermath. Because you love him, you believe he would feel remorse; therefore, preventing such an action.”

“I believe that because I know him,” I seethed as anger throbbed.

I swore I felt the faint stirrings of eather.

“You’re right about what I would do, but you’re also wrong.

I would do everything in my power to prevent the loss of life, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t risk it all if there was no other way. ”

“There is always a way,” Holland said simply.

I was so close to losing my patience. “You’re both completely wrong about Casteel. He’s not a monster who cares nothing for others.”

“I’m not saying that. Caring for others and remorse are not mutually exclusive, contrary to what some believe,” Holland said. “We meant no insult.”

I glanced at the other Fate. He had turned to face us. “Sure doesn’t sound like that to me.”

“I would say the same thing about Seraphena, and she is like a daughter to me, much like you are to Vikter,” Holland said as if to reassure me. Like with Lirian, he failed. “You’re still angry. Not just because of what I said about Casteel.”

“I’m not angry. I’m furious . We could’ve helped those people in some way. Saved hundreds—if not more—lives. But you stopped me from doing what I was drawn there to do.”

“Helping them was not why you were drawn there,” Lirian countered.

“Then why was I?”

Holland turned and made his way to the chairs I’d briefly sat in with Vikter. “Did Lirian offer you something to drink?”

“There’s no…” I trailed off, seeing a tray with a black carafe and slender glasses.

“A drink?” Holland picked up the carafe.

I had no desire to drink from something that had appeared out of thin air. “No, thank you.”

“You’re not going to ask me?” Lirian asked.

“No.”

Lirian frowned. “That’s rude.”

“Is it?” Holland murmured. I arched a brow at that. Turning over a glass, Holland poured liquid a color somewhere between pink and purple into it. He glanced over at me as he placed the carafe down. “May I call you Poppy? Calling you Penellaphe is…awkward for me.”

I blinked. “Why would it be awkward?”

“His wife,” Lirian said in a tone that suggested he found what he was about to say foolish. “Her name is the same as yours.”

“Your wife…” My eyes widened. “Is your wife…?”

“Your namesake?” One side of his lips curled up, and his smile warmed his ageless features. “Yes.”

Could I see her—wait. Fates got married? That seemed too…domesticated for such all-knowing beings.

“You were pulled beyond the Veil because of the Awakening,” Holland went on, leaving me no time to dwell on the fact that he was married to the goddess.

My hands fisted as he took a drink. “Because of the Awakening? And here I thought I was just pulled there to get my ass handed to me while you were—oh, wait. I have no idea what you were doing as I was being choked out.”

He lowered his glass. “He rendered me unconscious.”

I scoffed. “I know what the Fates truly are. Am I supposed to believe that an Ancient was knocked unconscious?”

“I’m not indestructible. Neither are you.”

“No, shit,” I snapped.

Holland stared at me, some kind of emotion tightening the corners of his lips. “I would’ve preferred to get you out of there before the Ancient rose because I dreaded that he would respond to you exactly as he did.”

“You mean wake up and start attacking me for no reason?”

“You must understand,” Holland said. “He never would’ve felt anything like you before: a female carrying the essence of both life and death within. He would’ve viewed you as a threat.”

“Because I’m a woman with power?” I stared at him. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“That’s what it sounds like to me,” Lirian commented.

“No, I’m—” Holland cut himself off with a frown. “Yes, that is what I’m saying,” he said, sending an arch glare toward the other Ancient. “Unless Lirian has anything helpful to add.”

Lirian remained quiet.

Holland said, “You saw the Great Creation while in stasis, did you not? You probably noticed something.”

“I noticed many things,” I said, but I got what he was getting at. “They were all male.”

“We developed into the male sex,” Lirian commented. “And even we cannot tell you why.”

“Sounds like some bullshit to me,” I said under my breath, to which Lirian scowled.

“A being such as you is completely unknown to him. Instinct would’ve led him to assert dominance over that.” Holland stopped and frowned. “We’re not entirely sure what occurred in that realm to cause them to go to ground or react in such a manner when the other woke.”

Lirian frowned. “What do you mean?”

I was this close to asking if his vadentia was failing him. “When the second one pulled himself from the ground, the first one attacked.”

Lirian’s frown deepened. “That’s…abnormal.”

“And concerning,” Holland commented.

“But not our problem at the moment,” Lirian said, his suddenly cheery tone startling me. “Anyway—”

“Wait,” I interrupted. “How do you not know what happened in the other realm? You’re—”

“We know what we are,” Holland cut in. “The Primal Veil is strong, Poppy. That doesn’t mean we can’t see through or pierce it. But doing so comes with risks. They could sense us, even while deep underground, and you’ve seen what happens when they wake.”

I had.

I could never unsee it.

My gaze went to the window as I approached it, giving Lirian a wide berth. “So, none of the Primals have ever crossed over? If that’s true, then how were mortals created there?”

“The Ancients there found a way,” Lirian answered without elaborating because, of course. “The mortals there are not like those here. Most don’t have a speck of eather in them.”

Stopping by the window, my gaze cut to him. He hadn’t said none of the Primals crossed over. I turned my gaze to the window. Beyond the glass, I saw the tops of gilded roofs piercing the thick clouds. He’d said most.

A faint tingling erupted along the nape of my neck. “The true Primal of Life and the true Primal of Death,” I murmured, squinting. “They can cross the Veil.”

“They’re not supposed to,” Holland replied, and I could feel his gaze on me. But they have went unsaid.

“You know what the ten dreamed?” Lirian asked. “Don’t you?”

I turned, catching how Holland’s forehead creased as he eyed Lirian. “I…” Tiny bumps erupted over my skin. “The dreams of the Ancients are the prophecy—Penellaphe’s prophecy.”

“All visions were once dreams,” Holland said.

I glanced between them. “Were you two part of the ten who dreamed?”

“Lirian was.” Holland eyed me from above the rim of his glass. “I was not.”

A prickle of unease crept up my spine as I stared at him, but I forced myself to keep my expression neutral. “I got the impression that most of the Ancients wanted a…cleansing of the mortal realm. Where did you fall in that line of thinking?”

“I felt the same as most did.”

Coldness seeped into my skin. “I shouldn’t be surprised to hear that since you had no problem allowing those people to die today.”

Lirian turned to me. “He had—”

“Don’t say he had no choice. I get that you can see the…threads of fate or whatever,” I said, “but that does not mean there isn’t a choice, does it?”

A muscle ticked in Lirian’s jaw.

“No, it doesn’t,” Holland agreed. “I chose not to save them because I knew it would not matter. As I told you then, it would only delay the inevitable. None who inhabit that city would have survived.”

“Which you would’ve seen in stasis,” Lirian said. “In case you’ve forgotten.”

“I haven’t.” I thought about the young woman who’d been concerned about my well-being. “Do you all just not care about those who died? Do you even know how many?”

“Too many.”

“For the love of the gods!” I exclaimed. To my credit, I only jumped a little at the sound of the third, unfamiliar voice. Heart thundering, I twisted around. “Why can’t…?” I trailed off, my lips parting as I saw the newcomer, who appeared to have walked out of the…bathing chamber.

I was pretty confident he had not been in there before, but at this point, anything was possible.

He was tall with golden-brown hair that brushed shoulders encased in a form-fitting, black tunic.

I tipped my head back. He was really tall.

His burnt-sienna vine pattern traveled along both sides of his jaw, thinning out at the temple and thickening once more along the hairline with a finger-width gap at the chin and forehead.

There was a distinctly…feline quality to his high, angular cheekbones and eyes that curved slightly upward at the outer corners.

And I was staring.

Possibly even open-mouthed. And I loved Casteel. I lusted after my husband. Often. All the time, to be quite honest. Casteel was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. But this one…

He was…wow.

The corner of a lush and wide mouth curled up in a smirk.

Yep. I was definitely staring open-mouthed.

Heat scalded my cheeks as his grin spread. “So, this is…her?” he asked.

“Yes,” Lirian grunted.

Gods, did he have to sound so disappointed?

The newly arrived Ancient strode forward, his gaze sweeping my features and lingering only for a second on my forehead. “Interesting,” he murmured.

My brows shot up. Was he referring to my scars? The urge to touch them was hard to resist. “And who are you?”

“That is Thorne,” Holland offered, a hint of exasperation clouding his voice. “And I’m not sure what he’s doing here.”

“Did you think I’d miss this opportunity?

” Thorne countered, and I fought the urge to retreat as he came unnecessarily close while passing me and then stopped not even half a foot away.

He smelled of the outdoors, like untouched woodlands and…

bad life choices. “If so, then you have forgotten who I am.”

I held my ground, arching a brow.