Page 23 of Jeweler to the Blessed (Champions of Chaos #1)

He is pure chaos. He calls to her through the Oldwood.

— ALARIC SARE’S LETTERS TO ISABELLE ARKOVA

I followed Hart through the complicated hallways once more. As eager as I was to learn about where the adamas was mined, I wasn’t sure what to do about the Oldwood. To keep to Prince Elias’s schedule, I needed more adamas quickly. Delay would not be an option.

Attempting to glare daggers into Hart’s shoulders wasn’t helping. I needed him to answer some questions before we ventured into the Oldwood together.

“Let’s go, Chaos,” he grumbled beneath his helmet.

I wouldn’t deign to respond to that. We were still in Glanmore Castle—literally the worst possible place to use the goddess’s name. He might think it funny, but it could get him killed if the wrong person heard it.

He shook his head free when he removed his helmet at the castle entrance. His chocolate brown hair was knotted at the nape of his neck. He raised a thick brow at me. I must have been staring.

“Does everyone not have their own helmet?”

“Are you picking topics to avoid discussing where we’re headed?”

I sighed. “How do you know we’re going anywhere?”

He arched his brow impossibly higher, like it was insulting that he wouldn’t know our next stop, even if I hadn’t realized how quickly it would need to happen.

I’d get nowhere trying to decipher everything in my head. It would only serve to drive me mad. I opened my mouth to ask one of the many questions brewing as we started down the steps.

“Not here,” he whispered. Louder, he said, “We do have our own helmets for formal occasions. Mine is in my quarters. So, a few loaners are available when guards unexpectedly have duties in the castle.”

“I see.”

My heart raced the rest of the way to Alaric’s workshop.

Hart stood back as I twisted the key. I drank in the space again as we entered—a space I hadn’t had time to continue searching.

Hart disappeared behind the gold curtain.

I needed time to review Alaric’s books in the storage room.

Today was out of the question. Getting to the mines and back would take the rest of the daylight.

I refused to be caught in the Oldwood after dark—even with a personal guard.

A personal guard who might find the Oldwood’s influence on me … odd. Maybe, more importantly, a personal guard I needed to ensure wasn’t planning to kill me .

“How do you know Soren?” I called.

I could have started with Alaric, but that felt personal . This question was about knowing whether I was in danger with Hart.

He popped his head out from behind the curtain. “What?”

“The man in the street yesterday. You knew him.” I admit there were times when I couldn’t tell if he was talking to me or the group, but there was a point at which he spoke directly to Soren. There was no mistaking a familiarity between them.

“I thought I did,” Hart said.

“What does that mean?”

“That not everyone is who you think they are. Soren proved that yesterday. I won’t let him get that close to you again.”

It wasn’t exactly an answer to my question, but the determination was, unfortunately, reassuring. I knew I shouldn’t let it cloud my judgment.

“It’s odd, isn’t it? Alaric asked me only a day ago to escort you through the Oldwood.” He raised his brow. “I don’t think this is what he had in mind.”

Of course he did. In mere seconds, he’d overcome both of my objections. Alaric had pleaded with me to accept an escort through the Oldwood with my plans to leave. I didn’t think Hart was lying about it. He couldn’t have known about the request unless Alaric had discussed it with him.

I shook my head. “He asked … you? Who are you?”

His lip tilted into a smirk I was becoming too familiar with. “We’ve been through this.” He pointed to his chest. “Hart. My Guard if you prefer.”

No one could blame me for rolling my eyes. “How do you know Alaric?”

“We’re friends.”

I clenched my teeth. “I gathered that. How did you happen to become friends? ”

“You already know the answer to that, don’t you? It’d be why you were at Forest’s Edge already yesterday.”

This man was infuriating. I assume he meant they became friends through Alaric’s need for youngleaf, but I’d be damned if I continued to press for information Hart already thought I had. I wished Alaric hadn’t left me so in the dark about … everything.

“Do you know where he is?”

Finally, Hart seemed to sober. He shook his head.

“Then I’ll thank you for not judging my attempts to find him.”

He dipped his chin, conceding. “Come on, Chaos. We need to get going to make the return trip before nightfall. Do you need anything before we go?”

He sent my mind scattering with a simple question. My excitement to learn about the process in the mines had overshadowed thoughts of what tools I would need. I may not know precisely what was expected of me, but I could make a few educated guesses.

The miners did the physical work, but they needed my talents to pick the location they mined. I had no idea how potential new spots were identified.

My stomach knotted as I realized I wouldn’t require tools. I’d have to do what I hated: trust my gut. No matter how unhappy it made me, my gut instinct was how I’d determined adamas from quartz every other time Alaric tested me. I might as well admit that was how I’d proceed in the mines.

Getting to the mines was another issue.

“Let me grab my tool kit from the back.” It didn’t hurt to look prepared.

Hart raised his left hand, coming fully into view in the front of the shop. He carried the mentioned kit. “I figured you’ d need this.”

He continued forward, not stopping to hand me the bag as he headed toward the door.

“I can carry it.”

I took the handle from him as he passed.

My gloved hand slid against his fingers wrapped tight around the handle.

I flinched back, and he released the handle immediately.

Moving the bag to my other hand, I stretched my gloved fingers.

My breathing was uneven. It was a mark of how careless I’d been in the last few days that I hadn’t considered the movement more carefully.

Rationally, I knew he couldn’t steal my emotions through the gloves. I even knew the prince had mandated no one take from me. Nothing about this situation was … safe, but I was protected from my usual fears.

That wasn’t the problem. The more important problem was that something about Hart had me disregarding my proximity considerations. They’d been non-existent yesterday when the fight broke out with the Feared. And that didn’t contemplate what his voice did to me.

He hadn’t moved since I’d snatched the bag. His stillness bothered me. Knowing I was fine, I swallowed but silently reprimanded myself for the judgment lapse.

It wouldn’t happen again.

“Shall we go?” I said as cooly as I could, turning on my foot to leave the shop.

“Do you know what to expect?”

My gaze snapped to his. The question surprised me as much as that voice unnerved me. I hoped he never learned how it made me feel.

“I can handle it.” I turned again to leave.

“That’s not what I asked.” He stood in my path. “I have no doubt you could handle anything you put your mind to, Chaos. What I asked was, do you know what to expect? ”

Anger flared along with my nostrils. If he knew what to expect, it could only be because Alaric told him—another piece of information Alaric had shared with him and not me.

“We don’t have time to waste. I don’t want to be in the Oldwood after dark,” I said.

We stared at each other for a long moment. In no world was I going to admit to him that I had no idea what I was doing. He had too much information already.

He let out a heavy sigh and stepped out of my way.

I wasn’t exactly afraid of the Oldwood—I respected it.

Before Mother’s accident, we would meet Alaric when he returned from the mines.

We would wait outside the Eastern Gate, on the outskirts.

Playing hide and seek in the trees and bushes had been one of my favorite ways to pass the time.

I was young, but I know I scared Mother the last time we played.

“I’ll find you, Emberline,” she’d called around a tree.

I was tucked into a hollowed-out log fallen just off the path. She’d never find me here. I was sure of it.

Nestling into the dirt and brush felt … comfortable. I could stay here all day. Mother searched, and time passed. I burrowed in deeper. The fallen leaves and hard-packed soil were warm. I wanted to sink into them. I pressed the side of my face down, letting the feeling—the heat—surround me.

“Emberline.”

Someone whispered my name. The tone was opposite Mother’s screech as she continued her search.

“Emberline. Wake up.”

It was so comfortable here. The Oldwood was more freeing than Kavios.

I wanted to climb onto it and let it fly me away from the trappings of the city.

Maybe I had. A distant part of my mind registered that Mother’s search became more frantic, that another familiar voice was added to it.

That the sun’s light was quickly dwindling.

I didn’t want to leave yet. The Oldwood was important. It meant something to me.

“Emberline!” The voice was a roar in my head—fierce and fiery. The warmth of the ground now scorched my skin.

My eyes shot open. My head popped up from inside the hollowed-out tree in which I hid.

“Emberline.”

“Emberline.”

Mother’s voice blended with the ferocious tenor. I wasn’t sure that both had ever existed.

Something in the present pulled me from the memory: another time, another blending of two voices.

“Emberline.”

“Emberline.” Hart’s voice demanded my attention. The side of my face was pressed against a tree on the edge of the path to the Oldwood Mine. My glove removed, I’d knelt, rustling the leaves and soil to sink my fingers into it.

What was I doing? Had I heard the voice again?