“Then why was I able to?” I blurted out.
Attes’s gaze went to the floor as his head moved from side to side once more. “I don’t know. But if I had to guess based on what I’ve seen and heard about, including your recent escape attempt?”
My eyes narrowed.
“The embers are bonding with you, allowing you to access more of the essence.” He shrugged. “It happens when gods near their Ascension, just as it does with Primals.”
I swallowed, clasping my knees as I processed everything I’d just heard, which felt slightly impossible at the moment. “Why didn’t you tell Nyktos any of this? And I don’t want to hear anything about how the knowledge would’ve endangered him. That’s bullshit. It’s not like he would’ve run off and confronted Kolis, revealing what he knew. He’s not foolish.” I leaned forward, anger sparking. “And if you think that, then you and Eythos underestimated Nyktos. That is what endangered him. If he knew about the embers from the beginning, so many things could’ve been done differently. It would’ve prevented me…”
Brow creasing, Attes knelt. “Prevented you from doing what?”
From taking that tiny bit of Ash’s blood that had inevitably put our lives on a collision course with death. My death.
“You should’ve told him,” I said instead of sharing that with him.
A long beat of silence passed as Attes stared at the tile. “You’re right, but Eythos had no choice but to keep silent. Nor did I. When he put the embers in your bloodline”—tension formed brackets at the corners of his mouth—“and put Sotoria’s soul with them? He fucked with fate in a major way. And the Arae do not like to be fucked with.”
Thinking of Holland, I grimaced. “I know all about the Fates.”
“Do you?” he asked, his head tilting. “Then you know they are the ones who prevented Eythos from telling his son what he did?”
I tensed. “I know one of the Arae. He didn’t say anything about that.”
“Of course, not. Because he probably didn’t want a comb thrown at his face.”
I glared at him.
The brief teasing glint vanished from his eyes. “You see, when you mess with fate and think you got away with it, you quickly find out you didn’t. Every action has a reaction, one that becomes either a reward or a consequence. That creates balance. And if that balance is undone in the minds of the Arae? They will reset it in the most fucked-up ways imaginable,” he said. “And in this case? They prevented Eythos and anyone else from telling Nyktos what was done. Because in their minds, that balanced things out.”
Disbelief flashed through me, leaving me feeling like I was caught in a surreal dream that no amount of pinching or shaking could snap me from. “How is what Eythos did such a huge upset to the balance when you have Kolis running around stealing embers and killing Primals?” I demanded. “How does that not mess with fate?”
Attes’s laugh was quick and harsh. “Who’s to say that Kolis got away with fucking with the Fates?”
“Looks to me like he’s doing pretty damn well for himself,” I declared.
“Is he?” Attes tossed back. “To get what he’s wanted, he’ll have to risk killing the only person he’s ever loved.”
I snapped my mouth shut. Attes had a point there. It seemed like Eythos’s actions had created the punishment for Kolis.
My foot tapped the floor as I realized Holland hadn’t been entirely forthcoming. I knew it wasn’t like he was the only Arae, and I also recognized that he had to walk a fine line between advising and interference, but I wanted to do worse than throw a comb at his face the next time I saw him.
If I did.
I exhaled loudly. “Okay, so if everything you say is true, then get Nyktos out of Dalos.”
“I would if I could.”
“If you could?” I rose, anger lodging in my chest. “You’re a Primal who flew in here as a hawk.”
“That doesn’t mean I can fly out of a cell as a hawk with Nyktos.” He stood cautiously, almost as if he expected me to throw another punch. “You see these bars? Have you touched them?”
“Yes.” I began pacing. “It didn’t feel that great.”
“Of course, not. They are bones of the Ancients.” He jerked his chin at them. “They’re chock-full of eather and powerful wards.”
Bones? My lip curled as I noted the discoloration in the gold once more.
Ew.
“Those bones, when wielded as a weapon? Prick even the skin of a god? Dead. And because of the embers, if I try to take you through them and you get nicked? Dead. They can even put a Primal into years-long stasis,” he told me. “Nyktos is just as imprisoned by them as you are, and he’s far more guarded.”
Slowly, I faced him as an image formed—the weapon the Primal of the Hunt and Divine Justice had held. “Was that what Hanan’s spear was made of?”
He nodded.
“Then, clearly, the bones of the Ancients can be destroyed,” I said.
“Only by two Primals: the Primal of Life and the Primal of Death.”
Great.
I crossed my arms. “But can they kill a Primal with more than just a few embers?”
“They can kill a fledgling Primal, depending on where they are struck, like one who is just coming out of their Culling. They’d be susceptible to that for many years until they fully harness their eather. But if any Primal, fledging or not, is impaled by a bone, they would remain incapacitated until it was removed.”
Well, that was the first helpful piece of information he’d shared. But in the moments of silence that followed, I realized there was something else I wanted to know.
“Can you…？” Breathe in. My chest constricted. Hold. “Can you tell me how Nyktos is?”
“You’re not going to like this answer, but I can’t.” He tracked the short path I was making in front of the divan. “I wish I could, but I haven’t seen him since I took him to the cells.”
He was right. I didn’t like the answer. “Was he conscious then?”
“No,” he said quietly.
Breathe in. I squeezed my eyes shut against the rising swell of panic and helplessness. Hold. Caving to that wouldn’t help either of us. Breathe out. “Where are these cells?”
“Was that where you were trying to escape to?”
I didn’t answer.
There was no need.
Attes let out a weary breath. “You would never make it there, even if you had managed to get free. I wouldn’t even be able to get you there and past the wards in place—at least undetected.”
“Where are these cells?” I repeated.
“They are in Dalos, but nowhere near the city,” he said. “They’re in the Carcers.”
Even though I figured Ash wasn’t being kept within reach, the disappointment still hit me hard. “The Carcers?” I asked, my voice hoarse.
“There’s a mountain range south of the City of the Gods, second only to Mount Lotho,” he said, speaking about Embris’s—the Primal of Wisdom, Loyalty, and Duty—Court. “Those are the Carcers.”