Page 69 of The Primal of Blood and Bone (Blood and Ash #6)

“I imagine they will have their hands full,” Thorne stated, crossing his ankles, “with the mortals who survived.”

Imagine? That was the equivalent of hoping. “And what type of life will those mortals face? What will the Ancients do?”

“If the mortals are lucky?” Lirian said. “The Ancients will kill them.”

Pressure clamped down on my chest. “And if they’re not?”

“They will rule them.” Thorne picked up the carafe and filled his glass once more. “Until they grow bored of doing so.”

“You mean until they decide to cleanse the lands,” I challenged. “Again.”

His gaze lifted to mine as he drank. His silence said it all.

“And we’ll do nothing about it?” I looked between the three of them.

“You’re going to let them cause untold destruction and then let them rule?

Based on what that one just said,”—I pointed at Lirian, and his eyes narrowed—“they will rule harshly until they decide to kill. And all the while, we’re just going to imagine they won’t attempt to cross the Veil? ”

“There are rules, Poppy,” Holland began. “In time, you will understand.”

“Fuck the rules,” I seethed.

“Have I mentioned,” Thorne said, glancing at Holland, “that I really like her?”

“Yes, you have.” Lirian pushed away from the window, focusing on Thorne as Holland rolled his eyes. “Why are you even here?”

“Why are you here?” Thorne countered.

“I was here first,” the Ancient shot back.

“That wasn’t an answer.” Thorne took a drink. “To what I asked.”

“Oh, my gods.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. They were as bad as Kieran and Reaver. “So, we’re just going to ignore what happened there?”

“Why do you care?” Thorne queried.

I stared at him for what felt like an entire minute, unable to believe he’d actually asked that. “Why do you ask such ridiculous questions? How can I not care?” I stepped toward him. “How can you not care? How can none of you care?”

“It’s not that we don’t,” Holland started.

“But the rules.” It was my eyes that rolled this time. “Who created them?”

“You should know the answer to that,” Lirian retorted.

“I do,” I bit out. “ Asshole .”

His eyes widened, and he looked positively affronted by what I’d said. Honestly, I couldn’t believe I’d said that to a Fate, but he was an asshole.

“Exactly what rule forbids you from doing something about those Ancients?” I demanded.

Silence.

I looked between the three of them, waiting. In the silence, it occurred to me. “There is no rule that expressly forbids you from interfering in other realms, is there?”

“There are rules that we, the Arae, agreed upon that don’t necessarily impact the balance.” Holland shifted in his chair. “But they are no less important. And we agreed that we would not engage with the Ancients in the ground.”

I crossed my arms. “Why?”

“That is not something you need to know,” Lirian stated.

“I disagree.” I stared at the two seated Ancients.

“Why would you—?” I stiffened as an image of the risen Ancient came to me—mainly, his eyes.

There had been crimson in them—the power of death.

It was also in my eyes and the essence I’d seen in Cas.

What had Lirian said? That you could tell by looking at those Ancients’ eyes that they hadn’t released any of their eather, and the ones before me—those who now called themselves the Arae—had.

The reason behind their rule was obvious.

“They’re more powerful than you—all of you. ”

Silence.

I knew I was right.

“I can’t believe you.” My upper lip curled as I sent them a look I hoped conveyed my disgust. “The all-powerful Arae are really just cowards .”

The chamber was so quiet I could have heard a cricket sneeze outside. I asked myself if I had really just said what I had. Had I actually called the Fates—Ancients who’d been alive since the dawn of this realm’s time—cowards?

I had.

My heart thumped against my ribs as the silence stretched, but I didn’t regret speaking the truth, even though I wasn’t exactly sure where the reckless level of boldness had come from. Not that I wasn’t well versed in running my mouth.

Maybe it was because the Arae—these Ancients—were the rulers of us all, and I was so sick and tired of those with the power to change things—to make things better —doing nothing.

To me, that was worse than even what the Blood Crown had caused.

“What did you just say?” Lirian asked softly.

“I said the Arae are cowards,” I repeated. “Am I wrong? None of you wants to deal with the other Ancients because there is a good chance you will fall to them.”

More silence.

Folding my arms, I lifted my chin and waited for them to deny it as the seconds ticked by.

It was Thorne who spoke.

“You,” he said, using the hand that held his glass to point a finger, “are an abnormality.”

I frowned at him. “Gee, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He winked. “But we’re not cowards. At least, not all of us, Poppy.”

“Did I say you could call me Poppy?” I snapped, knowing full well it sounded childish.

“My apologies, Penellaphe .” Thorne bowed his head, but I saw the corners of his lips twitch upward. “If too many of us die, you will have a bigger problem on your hands than Kolis or even the Ancients crossing the Veil.”

“Is that so?” I could hear the derision oozing from my voice.

“Where true Primals are anchors to their Courts, we are anchors to the realms,” Holland reminded me. “If we fall, the very fabric of the realms will begin to unravel.”

“How many of you need to die for that to happen?”

Lirian angled his body toward me. “Does it matter?”

“I think it does since you all have no problem with me and those I love being in positions to die,” I shot back. “So, how many? How many of the oh-so-helpful Arae can we afford to lose? I’m sure there must be one or two brave enough to risk their precious lives to help those beyond the Veil.”

“Poppy,” Holland began as Thorne bit his lip, attempting and failing spectacularly once more to hide a smile as he lifted his glass.

“One? Two? Five?” I asked, raising my brows. “How many Arae are just…sitting around on Mount Lotho?”

Thorne opened his mouth.

“Do not,” Lirian commanded, “answer that question.”

“I was just going to ask why Holland can call her Poppy,” he replied. “And I cannot.”

“For fuck’s sake,” I muttered.

“Look.” Lirian pressed his hands together, steepling his fingers. “We must move on, Penellaphe. Whatever Kolis plans to do as a Primal of Life and Death would not end well for anyone. We need to deal with him.”

Move on?

We?

Frustration over their inaction and the lingering sorrow of knowing I had been the cause of so much death—albeit unintentionally—threatened to drown me as it rose.

But so did anger— so much anger. I felt a weak flicker of eather in my chest as my gaze locked onto Lirian.

“When you say we must move on , you actually mean me. The Arae will do nothing to stop Kolis.”

“We cannot intervene.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “It is not our place to do so.”

“Not your place? Is that another important rule that doesn’t affect the balance?

” I laughed, and it had a hint of smoke to it.

“You know what? It doesn’t matter. You and the rest of the so-called Arae are the creators of all this.

” I swept my arms wide. “Either by your hands or by your creations’.

You all knew, since damn near the beginning, there was a chance all of this could happen.

That an untold number of innocent people would die if I —or someone else—were to harness the embers of life and death. And you failed to stop it.”

Lirian’s mouth pressed into a thin line.

“Not only that, you failed to do anything . The Arae are the Fates. You can see what a person will face in their life: any undue hardships, abuse, pain, and terror. Unfairness .” I took a step toward him.

“All made worse by a Crown—a regime —that went unchecked for centuries, manipulating, lying, and preying upon the descendants of the gods. And, worse yet, the very mortals you and the rest of the Arae rose against your brethren to protect .” The tips of my fingers vibrated. “The Arae didn’t intervene.”

He stiffened.

“Not when the vamprys were created or their numbers and power grew. Not when it resulted in a war that brought about the extinction of bloodlines, or when the Blood Crown seized control through deceit and fear.” I was another foot closer to the Fate.

“Not when they rewrote history and replaced it with lies. Not when families were forced to give up their children to either be turned into Ascended or used as cattle. Not when those who actually protected others weaker than them fell victim to the Craven. Not while they held innocent people in captivity and tortured them. Because of…balance? Or was it simply because of some inane rule that no longer makes sense?”

The pattern along Lirian’s jaw started to tick.

“And now it is I who must deal with Kolis—someone the Arae knew, since the beginning, would likely do all he has done. A being who, according to a Fate, has no good left in him.” The essence throbbed a little stronger. “What exactly do the Arae believe balance is?”

Eather lanced Lirian’s swirling irises. “I know it’s hard for you to understand.”

“Actually, it’s not. At least, not to me. Because I can clearly understand that there is no balance in anything I just said.”

His shoulders lifted, becoming rigid. “You don’t, Poppy.”

“No. It’s you and the rest of the Arae who don’t.

Did you not say that all have a balance of good and bad in them until they don’t?

You did,” I reminded him oh-so helpfully.

“You also said Kolis has no good left in him, and I’m pretty sure that means he is the definition of imbalance.

And I’m really confident in the assertion that there has been nothing but imbalance. ”

I stopped in front of him, and I… felt his unease. It was faint, barely there, but I could feel it.

My lips flattened into a thin, tight smile. “Your will is weakening, isn’t it?”