“Yes.” My heart still pounded as I touched my sore throat. Glancing up at the Ancient, I saw that he still held his glass. Wow. “Thanks.”
“Not necessary,” he replied, lifting the glass to his lips as he turned to Lirian.
The Ancient was standing now, tugging the front of his tunic down, straightening it. He stilled as I started toward him, anger carving into the taut lines of his features.
“I’m so gonna find out how many Arae are around and exactly how many the realms can afford to lose,” I told him, ignoring the slight ache in my throat that accompanied each word. “And you know what I’m going to do once I have that information?”
Lirian smirked. “I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“Poppy,” Holland called.
Ignoring Holland, I didn’t blink as I stared up at Lirian. “I’m going to come for you.”
Something flickered in Lirian’s eyes and darted across his face as I sensed his unease.
“You need to leave,” Holland said, turning to Lirian. “Now.”
Holding my stare, the Ancient stepped back and vanished with a charge of energy.
“Will I be able to do that someday?” I asked, staring at the space in front of the pillar. “Poof in and out of chambers?”
“One day,” Holland answered. “Yes.” His inhale was audible. “I’m sorry about that. He shouldn’t have behaved that way.”
Nodding, I turned to him. “Why didn’t you all kill me?”
Holland went completely still for what was likely only seconds but felt like hours. “Because it went to a vote, and the decision to end your life was not unanimous.”
I stared. “You all voted on whether or not I should die?”
“We did.” Thorne strode toward the table and picked up the carafe. He frowned.
“I know how that sounds.” Holland returned to his seat. “But we had a choice to make. Allow you to be born and grow or not.”
“Well…” What was I even supposed to say to that? “I guess I know what Lirian voted. What about you two?”
“I think it’s clear what I voted for.” Thorne placed his glass on the table and crossed his arms. “I was against it.”
My gaze flicked to Holland.
“I was also against it.”
“Why?”
Holland didn’t answer.
Irritation grew as I grabbed a piece of hair and spun it around my finger. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“You remind me so much of her,” Holland murmured.
“Do I even want to know who you’re referencing?”
“Seraphena.”
“Oh.”
His gaze flicked to my hand. “She has a habit of doing just as you are when she’s either nervous or busying her hands in an attempt not to use them. On someone.”
“Oh,” I whispered again, my hand stilling.
