Page 13 of Jeweler to the Blessed (Champions of Chaos #1)

I know he searches for her. I’m just not sure what he’ll do when he finds her.

— ALARIC SARE’S LETTERS TO ISABELLE ARKOVA

W ith no leverage to speak of, I had to accept that the seller would find me.

I entered Alaric’s workshop and focused on concocting a dose of the tonic with the current youngleaf supply. Once Mother had this, then I could worry about another batch. Even I realized the foolishness of trying to plan when it felt like the world was still shifting under my feet.

Alaric could return before then.

I shook my head at my own naivete. Parting the curtain, I strode to the workstation.

Again, Alaric’s visitor crossed my mind.

He had been fixated on Alaric’s pickup yesterday.

Based on words alone, the man seemed no stranger to violence.

Would he have done something if Alaric hadn’t come?

I dismissed the thought just as quickly.

If Alaric was his customer, he wouldn’t have a reason to hurt him.

Then, Soren’s anger flashed through my thoughts, confusing me further.

Could Alaric’s visitor have been just as angry?

None of this made any sense.

The shop was the same as it had been this morning.

I was unsure what I expected. It seemed Alaric’s dangerous friends and foes were at Forest’s Edge, and if I were to trust my gut, I’d say Soren and Ava learned of Alaric’s absence from me.

They would have had no reason to search the shop previously.

Maybe they would have a reason to search it now that they knew he was missing.

I mixed the ingredients for the tonic and left it to steep. It was like tea that way and even had the faint scent of mint, like Alaric’s favorite brew.

While I waited, I considered where to search for Alaric. Prince Elias’s words knotted my chest. He thought Alaric was gone. I squeezed my hand into a fist, unwilling to accept that. Still, I had no idea where to look. Forest’s Edge had been my only lead, and they hadn’t known he was missing.

I needed help. Maybe Mother and Father would know something.

Once the tonic was ready, I slipped out the door onto Cross Street to deliver it.

I kept my head down and my face hidden. If no one could see any emotion, they wouldn’t be interested in trying to take from me.

Not more than a few blocks from Alaric’s workshop, the red glow of an adamas gem caught my eye.

“Incoming!” a man shouted.

Someone flew through the air across the packed street. People darted and jostled to get out of the body’s trajectory. The ring on the Blessed’s middle finger glowed a furious red—fitting, since anger was the emotion used to harness the increased strength he flaunted.

I hoped throwing the man would settle the Blessed, but with the way the ring still shone, I doubted it. There was nothing I could do but get out of the way as the Blessed stalked across the street to his prey.

The man thrown—or, more aptly, the crumpled body—was already in bad shape.

It looked like the Blessed had gotten a few punches in before the initial toss.

The crowd shifted again, and I tucked myself in the nearest alley to avoid the fray.

I pulled at my gloves, feeling helpless as the crumpled man tried to crawl away from the Blessed.

This wasn’t a taking gone wrong—it was worse. I searched the street for anyone who might intervene. Many stopped on the side of the road to watch as it became clear this was an altercation. A few scurried by, hoping to avoid whatever was about to happen.

No help for this man then.

The Blessed grabbed the crumpled man’s tunic, lifting him and pulling his fist back for another hit.

“This will teach you to try and take from us.”

Another ugly crunching sound filled the street. I winced. His nose was definitely broken after that. The man didn’t even attempt to defend himself. The Blessed’s words didn’t make sense. How could one of us take from one of them? Did he mean steal? If so, what an uncommonly foolish thing to do.

“Father, please,” a woman yelled from the doorway of one of the establishments.

Her long blond hair was more than mussed.

It may be the middle of the day, but the robe hastily tied around her waist and the exposed skin at the shoulder and neck cleared up all my questions about what the man had stolen.

The door behind her boasted another of the city’s less reputable taverns with rooms for rent by the hour .

She was old enough to know better but young enough to risk it. It wouldn’t be her paying the price for the indiscretion after all. The poor man being bludgeoned hadn’t stolen coin but had the audacity to bed the Blessed’s daughter.

Her eyes were red, and tears streamed down her cheeks. I couldn’t empathize, though, not when she would face no consequences, and the man on the street might not survive.

“Lucinda, get your things and wait for me inside,” the man who must be her father called.

A pathetic whine came from the limp body. “Luce … tell him …”

The words were feeble, even from where I stood, but it was clear from the horror on Lucinda’s face that she heard them. What little color her skin had was gone, and her father turned to face her.

“Tell me what, Lucinda?”

“Nothing, Father. Let’s go home. Please, leave him alone.” To her credit, she begged, but it wouldn’t help her lover.

“Get inside!” her father yelled again.

I shook my head as the woman disappeared. Her father turned back to unleash more wrath on the man hanging from his clutched fist.

“The Feared will have your gem for this,” someone called from the crowd.

It was an empty threat. If the rebels were here and could do something to stop this, they would have by now.

The Blessed laughed, dropping the man and giving him a solid kick to the ribs. He didn’t seem worried. Something in me snapped as he bent to reach for the man again.

Maybe it was the helplessness of trying to find Alaric.

Maybe it was how little I knew about my uncle.

Maybe it was fear of what I’d have to do for the royal family in his absence.

Maybe it was seeing my own plans destroyed by circumstance.

Or maybe it was the Selection Festival and its stupid hold on this city.

Whatever it was, I found myself unable to do nothing .

Another magically fueled punch might be this man’s end. His only crime was to think a Blessed would treat him with decency.

My defensive training wouldn’t allow me to stop the violence. The red glow on the Blessed’s adamas ring reflected eerily on the man’s already broken face. I couldn’t tell if it made his injuries seem worse or if they were truly that bad.

I shuffled nervously, considering what to do. My foot kicked a rock as it jumped and retreated with indecision. The noise drew my attention. Small stones and pebbles littered the dirt-packed streets.

That could work.

With this crowd and the shouted threat of the Feared, it wouldn’t take much to tip the scales—for the street to erupt in a brawl.

The people were already volatile. They only needed a reason to loose the shackles of societal restraint. I could give them one.

Causing a riot to give the man time to escape seemed extreme, but at least it was a plan. I wasn’t sure he’d be able to get away with his body as it was, but I had to try.

I bent to grab a handful of rocks and pulled my arm back.

“I think he’s had just about enough.”

I knew that voice.

Maybe I wasn’t the only one so affected by it. Hitting all the right notes of authority and severity, it brought the previously lively street to a standstill. I clutched the handful of stones in my grip, hesitating.

I searched the street for the man. He was easy to spot.

I couldn’t believe I hadn’t recognized him immediately in the castle.

His broad shoulders parted the crowd as he moved.

His hand rested on the sword at his hip.

The guard’s uniform fit him like a glove, leaving little to the imagination.

He was a wall of solid muscle, his breadth tapering to a trim waist. I just needed to see …

His forest-green glare met mine. He was no longer wearing a helmet. To the crowd, he appeared to rub the scruff on his face casually as he assessed the scene.

Panic flooded me. Did he recognize me? Did it matter? I was not at all sure.

I quickly pulled my gaze from his, deciding how to proceed. The guard didn’t have to stop this fight. He could look the other way. His interruption indicated he was here to help. Indecision held my hand.

Chancing another look at the guard’s face, I tried to determine his motives. Those brutally green eyes pinched as they found mine again, his gaze flicking to my fist, primed to launch chaos into the street. His glare demanded to know what I thought I was about to do.

“He needs to learn not to pursue those above his station.” The Blessed raised his arm again for another punch.

My fist tightened again around the rocks.

The guard pressed his lips into a thin line, and there was no mistaking the brief, sharp shake of his head. His instruction was explicit, but that didn’t mean I had to take it.

“I’d hate for word to get back to the king that you were making trouble before the Selection Festival,” the guard said.

The Blessed’s arm froze before releasing another punch. He turned to face the intruding guard, appraising his large frame.

The command in the guard’s tone was the same he’d used on Alaric.

His pose was casual, but his body looked primed to deliver violence should he choose to.

I couldn’t see a glow from an adamas gem on the guard.

In fact, I didn’t see a ring or pendant at all.

That he’d interrupted the fight without its glow was its own signal of strength.

The Blessed must have made the same calculation I did as the red of his ring faded. He dropped the man. “Fine. He’s not worth my time anyway.”