The Primal of Blood and Bone (Blood and Ash, #6)

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

“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.”

But with Deminyen Primals? They couldn’t keep us in check, and that made us dangerous.

“But they woke. How?”

“The act of giving mortals free will,” Thorne spoke, “therefore allowing them to experience emotion, set off a startling chain of events that was both miraculous and terrible. No matter what anybody did, nobody could prevent what the Ancients dreamed.”

Thorne’s eyes met mine, the colors now still. “They couldn’t prevent you.”

“We saw you in our dreams.” Lirian watched me. “Dreams that became visions held by the last mortal oracle and as told by the goddess Penellaphe. Dreams that many saw as a warning of what was to come—the fact that balance could not be kept.”

“How did I upend the balance?” “You were born,” Lirian stated.

“That’s not an easily answered question, as it has been in the making since the dawn of man.” Holland tilted his head. “Many tried to stop this from happening: Eythos. Seraphena and Nyktos. Primals whose names were lost to time. My brethren. The Unseen—” “Alastir?” I gasped. Holland nodded.

“Your birth stirred Kolis into consciousness, and awakening from your Ascension was the final trigger.”

“The Ancients in the ground there were disturbed before your Ascension,” Thorne said, his eyes narrowing as he studied me. “The mortals were encroaching upon places…sacred to those who’d built their realm. Some started Awakening eons before because of it—their sleep full of unrest. We sensed it.”

“But we must focus on what is at hand and what is at risk now. Not all the Ancients Awakened. There are more—ones asleep deep beneath the streets of Solis and the homes of Atlantia. And their rest has also been disturbed.”

“How do I make sure more don’t Awaken?” “You already know,” he said. “You must stop Kolis.”

“Primals of a Court are not meant to linger among the mortals. His presence in the mortal realm has already upset the balance. The longer he remains, the more the balance tips. But…” Holland took a deep breath.

“Kolis aspired to be the true Primal of Life and Death,” Lirian said. “He was stopped before. If he had succeeded, he would’ve upset the balance just as your Ascension did.” He pushed away from the window and straightened. “I doubt his goal has changed. If he succeeds now, drains you of your essence, and takes it into himself, he will become the Primal of Blood and Bone.”

“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.”

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

“The all-powerful Arae are really just cowards.”

“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.”

“Life always prevails,” Holland said. “But you.” Thorne stepped forward, his swirling eyes meeting mine. “Only you can liberate bone and ash. Only you can liberate death.”

“The death of an unbroken mate bond cannot sever that connection. The souls will reunite,” he said after what felt like five minutes. “But that bond can be broken at any point, no matter the…extenuating circumstances. Just as your people seal your vows, it can be rejected by one or both.”

“I will never reject her, nor would she reject me.” Aydun was quiet for a heartbeat. “Would you believe the same if you knew your union meant that untold lives would be lost, and the realm would be left in ruin?”

“What if,” he continued, his voice lowering, “such a union would destroy her?”

“Why are you asking me this? Because I don’t see how our union ends that way.” “As I said, it’s good to know that you have such faith in your union.” He shrugged again, turning his attention to the platters. “You will need that. As will she.”

Kieran blinked. “Setti—” “Is the name of Attes’s…vellám. The extension of Attes’s will, his essence. Each Primal god who oversees a Court gains the ability to summon their bloodsteed.” I frowned, having never heard nor spoken that word before. “Setti was Attes’s bloodsteed.”

“Ego,” he said with a snort. “Only Cas would name his horse after a Primal God of War’s steed.”

“It had to be ravens.” He dragged a hand over his chest. “My people see them as an omen—well, not so much any longer. But the eldest of the wolven? They did. It’s because of what they represent to the gods.” His gaze lowered to his glass. “Ravens serve as a warning,” he said. “Of death and destruction.”

“Setti’s been keeping secrets,” she said.

“The bloodsteed has been keeping secrets,” she corrected, sending me a quick glance. “I guess I never noticed it—or maybe it’s more like I never felt it—until now.” She smiled as Setti nudged her hand—she’d stopped petting him. “The essence.”

“He’s not just named after Attes’s vellám. He is Attes’s vellám.”

And I would make sure all the gods bore witness to the only warning I would give them. Come for what’s mine, and I will undo your very existence

one. The vadentia told me it shouldn’t be possible. Only true Primal gods could shift after Ascension. Deminyen Primals were more like Ancients. It took time for them to gain the kind of power needed to shift one’s being. Not days, weeks, or even years. It should take centuries. And it wasn’t just the Joining that’d enabled this. I wasn’t sure what had.

“Harm?” Seraphena laughed, but the sound was without humor. “More like to stop myself from destroying the whole mortal realm in my grief and anger because I couldn’t deal with what I’d done.”

Her voice cracked. She closed her eyes, and I saw her fingers twitch at her sides. “I helped entomb my son.”

“Malec wasn’t the only one who made poor decisions. Ash and I made choices, too—hard ones we believed were the only way to prevent Kolis from being freed and unleashing death and destruction no less devastating than the Ancients Awakening. But…” She shook her head. “In the end, our choices built the road that Malec and Ires inevitably traveled down.” Her gaze met mine. “And now that road ends with you—all of you.”

It was Seraphena who answered. “Given what was done, it appears Isbeth plotted to use my son as a…vessel for Kolis’s aru’lis—his soul. Which would’ve been…”

“Ash was right,” Seraphena murmured. “About?” I asked. “He warned me about her.”

“He warned me that she was like me.”

“Why are we talking about Sotoria?” “Because the three of us are connected.” She halted by the middle of the table. “We share the same blood.”

“The three of us were seen in the dreams.” “Of the Ancients?” I questioned. She nodded. “So, she’s also part of the prophecy?” I asked. “Sotoria is the prophecy,” she corrected.

“So.” Seraphena cleared her throat. “The only way we could prevent Sotoria from being reborn and waking Kolis was to ensure the Mierel bloodline ended with me.”

“It meant we could never allow our sons to have children. Both Malec and Ires were aware of what would happen. We didn’t hide it from them. They fully understood the risks.” Seraphena looked up. “So, that was why, as hard and unfair as it was, we denied the heartmate trials. Isbeth was already pregnant, proving to Ash and me that Malec would not take the necessary precautions. And it’s why I helped to entomb my son. He could not be…trusted not to make the same mistakes.”

“It’s true. You’re Sotoria.”

“You’re right,” Seraphena said. “She is Sotoria reborn. But, at the end of the day, who Sotoria was is gone, and she is Penellaphe.”

“Ione explained that while you may look like Sotoria, and your soul is hers, you are your own person,” she explained. “You may share certain characteristics with your past—dislikes or hobbies—but you have your own memories and your own distinct personality based on the life you are living now. Not hers. So, it makes sense that it doesn’t feel personal.”

“A true Primal of Death can break any bond,” she said. “If you were to fall to him in battle, it would sever the bond. They would not die.”

Seraphena took another breath. “If either of them dies by his hand or will, the Joining won’t protect either of you. It would be like it never existed. He would be able to kill them.”

“There is a reason Eythos believed Sotoria would be able to kill Kolis—the reason I couldn’t, and why I said only you can. It is the Primal’s weakness. Love.”

“You’re telling me Casteel would be able to kill me because I love him? That love is my weakness?” Seraphena’s eyes met mine. “That’s what I’m saying.”

“Primals were never meant to love. They were to be beyond such…mortal needs and desires and, therefore, unable to be swayed one way or another by such emotions,” she said. “But a long time ago, during Eythos’s reign as the Primal of Life, and before his brother betrayed him, a Primal did the unthinkable and fell in love.”

“Well, Casteel would never harm me,” she said. “So…whatever.” “I would hope not,” she replied, her gaze sliding to me. “Because if he did, he would not live for long afterward.”