Page 67 of The Primal of Blood and Bone (Blood and Ash #6)

I wanted to ask what choices, even though I already knew, but it was like some childish part of me still couldn’t reconcile who she was to me at one time with who she truly was.

My chest tightened as a ball of messy, conflicted emotions lodged there.

She was my mother , even if I hadn’t known that for most of my life.

And she was a terrible person. I didn’t know what to think or feel about her in general, let alone about what Holland had just said.

Like how I’d told Casteel that my good memories of Wayfair no longer felt real, the same could be said about my memories of Isbeth.

But now wasn’t the time to allow myself to get swept up in all that. Especially not when I saw that Lirian was watching me a bit too intensely.

“You still don’t realize it, do you?” he asked quietly, but I heard the strain in his voice. “What you are.”

I held his stare until Holland spoke.

“Every new life, every new being, has to start somewhere and with someone,” Holland said, drawing my gaze to his. “And you are that someone. You are the start of a new pantheon.”

Me?

The start of a new pantheon?

I could feel a slightly crazed-sounding laugh bubbling up my throat.

Lirian scoffed, the sound almost mimicking the one I’d made earlier. “That is yet to be seen.”

It also sounded absurd to me. “How am I the start of anything? There’s just me.” The moment those words left my mouth, I felt like a fool because the how was obvious. “I am so not planning to have children anytime—”

“While I’m relieved we will not be dealing with a newly Ascended Primal with child again…” Holland stated blandly.

I frowned. Again ?

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” he continued as Thorne poured himself a drink. “You were not the only one to Ascend.”

Immediately, my mind flashed to Cas and the changes he’d spoken of—the changes I saw myself. The breath I took went nowhere.

Casteel and Kieran had Ascended. But into what? No answer came. Maybe it was because I was too close to them. All I could do was take an educated guess. “So, they are…Primals?”

Lirian made that huffing sound again, this time ending it with a low, mocking chuckle.

Control of my temper slipped because I’d just about had it.

My head swiveled to where he stood. “Did I say something that amused you?”

The pinpricks of eather in his eyes flared, streaking through his irises like lightning as a muffled laugh came from the direction of the other two Ancients. “Actually, you did.”

I faced him fully then, my hands balled into fists at my sides. “Then you should share exactly what that was.”

“And you should mind your attitude,” the Fate shot back.

Without looking away from Lirian, I laughed—and it wasn’t a nice one. It sounded like one of Isbeth’s scathing and dismissive laughs but colder and more shadowy. “Now, that is humorous.”

Silver light lit up the veins beneath Lirian’s eyes as he stepped forward.

“I like her,” Thorne remarked.

“That’s enough,” Holland barked. “We don’t have time for this nonsense.”

I raised my brows at the Ancient, and the look he gave me said he wanted to flay the skin from my bones. Slowly.

Holding Lirian’s glare for a few moments longer, I slowly turned my attention back to Holland.

“Now I see Seraphena in you,” Holland remarked with a faint, fleeting grin.

The almost passing comment startled me, and I wanted to ask if he saw more of her in me. I wanted to know—

“If you’re done antagonizing Lirian,” Holland continued, “I will answer your question.”

I swallowed my additional inquiries and nodded.

“They are Primals,” he said.

I shot Lirian a smug look.

“I wasn’t finished.” Holland glanced down at his glass as if he wished it was something stronger than whatever he was drinking. “The first Primals were created from the very essence of the realms. They were not born. Instead, they Ascended in a way similar to a vampry or a demis.”

I sucked in a sharp breath as my gaze darted between him and Thorne. “You’re saying they’re false Primals.”

Holland shook his head. “Lucky for them and the realm, they already had enough eather to prevent that from happening.”

The relief that went through me was so intense I thought I might plop right down on the floor.

“They, like you,” Holland said, “are fully Ascended Primals who belong to no Court.”

I almost told him I still had no idea what he meant by that, but I stopped myself because if I asked, the gods knew Lirian would likely have something…asshole-ish to say.

So, as silly as it sounded, I asked myself, and the knowledge found me—or I found it—in the shadowy recesses of my mind.

A Court didn’t have the same meaning as it did in the mortal realm.

Instead, it was formed when the Ancients split their powers among the Primals they created.

And it was more than just a physical location within Iliseeum.

A Court represented the sphere of influence—the type of essence the god wielded and the way it affected the mortal realm. Like with Penellaphe. She was the personification of Wisdom, Loyalty, and Duty. She drew power from the Court.

There was still something I didn’t understand, though. “He said I was a true Primal.” I jerked my chin at Lirian. “How is that possible if I have no Court?”

“Because you and the ones you Ascended are Deminyen ,” Lirian spat, lips puckering as if he’d tasted something sour.

“ Deminyen ,” I murmured, my brows knitting. “Doesn’t that just mean the Ancient Ones?”

“ Deminyen is a…class of primordial beings with no anchors—not even to the essence of the realms.” Holland paused to take a sip. “It includes the Ancients, like the ones you saw earlier.”

“So, you’re saying no other true Primals are fully Ascended?” I asked.

“Only one of those exists,” Thorne answered. “And he is not a Deminyen . He’s…complicated.”

Lirian snorted. “More like a complicated pain in all of our asses.”

The smile Thorne directed at the other Ancient sent a chill skittering down my spine. There was a familiarity in how his features cooled and the curl of his lips, one I recognized as a promise of bloody violence. I blinked as he warned softly, “Careful.”

Lirian’s jaw clenched. “Anyway,” he said, inhaling through his nose, “the three of you are unbound Primals.”

“Unbound true Primals?”

“Yes,” Thorne said, his features warming slightly as his attention turned to me. “Though there are even differences between them.”

“Like what?”

Thorne smiled again, and it was no less alarming. “Casteel.” He lifted the goblet to his lips. “He’s…special,” he said and then added with a wink, “as I’m sure you’d agree.”

I blinked again.

Holland coughed, and I didn’t think I’d heard a more forced sound than that. “So, that is what you are. A Deminyen .”

Pulling my gaze from Thorne, I glanced at Lirian, thinking of how he’d spat the word with such distaste.

He seemed aware of what I was thinking because he said, “You being a Deminyen has its…benefits. In the event of your deaths, there would be no need for one to Ascend to take your place to ensure the Court remains stable.”

“You were really eager to explain that part,” I pointed out dryly.

Thorne chuckled. That was it. That was his input.

“What he is trying to say is that it’s one less thing to be concerned with,” Holland said.

“Not every god can withstand the primordial essence it takes to Ascend to Primalhood. Children of a Primal could, but unless both parents are Primals, there is always a chance they would not survive the Ascension.”

“What about Ires and…?” I trailed off. The moment I said his name, hazy memories surfaced.

“You were saying?” Holland pressed.

I pulled myself from those thoughts. I had been about to ask if Ires and Malec could Ascend. Nektas had made it seem like they couldn’t, but… “They can Ascend to Primalhood.”

Holland nodded with a look of approval. “But since Seraphena is female, the next to rise must be of the same sex.”

“Unless… Unless I abdicate?” My gaze shot to Thorne.

“Correct,” Holland confirmed. “Then it will be possible for them to Ascend. They carry enough eather in them to do so, but unlike with your offspring,” he said, and my stomach dropped to the floor at the thought, “it isn’t guaranteed. They could die in the process.”

“Then your abdication would be null and void,” Thorne commented.

My stomach had plummeted through the floor. It would fall on me.

“There is another,” Holland remarked.

“Kieran,” I murmured, but he would want that even less than I did.

Thorne eyed me as if he knew exactly where my mind had gone. His next words confirmed that. “Most would jump at the chance to have such power over not only the mortal realm but also that of the gods.”

“Yeah, well, that sounds like a lot of…responsibility,” I said. “And it would also mean that my father, uncle, and grandmother would all be gone.”

“You don’t even know them,” Thorne countered.

I stared at him. “And?”

“Their loss couldn’t affect you that greatly.”

“Are you serious?”

“Partially,” he replied. “Still, it is a lot of power.” The essence flared in his eyes. “Some would say you’d be…weak not to take it.”

“Some would say it’s better when you speak less,” I retorted.

Thorne tossed his head back and laughed deeply. “I’m sure you’re right.”

“What about this Court?” I said before they could keep asking about my reluctance to seize such power. “Is there one who can Ascend?”

The corners of Holland’s mouth tightened. “Not that I like to think of that happening,” he replied, “but there is another who can take her place.”

“So, you and Penellaphe have a child?”

His features softened. “We do.”

“That’s…nice,” I said, hoping that hadn’t come out as awkwardly as it sounded. Thorne’s chuckle told me it had. Great. “Anyway…” I cleared my throat. “What’s bad…?”

I didn’t need to finish asking what was so bad about not being tied to a Court.

Dividing their powers wasn’t the only reason the Ancients had designed the Courts.

Binding a Primal god to a Court was also a means of control.

They used the responsibilities of the Court—the impact the Primal’s actions and death would have on the realms—to ensure they remained in check.

But with Deminyen Primals?

They couldn’t keep us in check, and that made us dangerous.