Page 26 of Jeweler to the Blessed (Champions of Chaos #1)

She’ll never be found—until she chooses. I’ve taken care of everything.

— ALARIC SARE’S LETTERS TO ISABELLE ARKOVA

I ’d designed my life around staying away from the Blessed. As we scaled the hill to Glanmore Castle, I considered all the ways that had gone wrong. Not only was I entering the castle, but I’d also be living there—with a Blessed guard leading the way.

There were so many ways this could end poorly. I reminded myself I had little choice at the moment. Until I had more information about Alaric or a more reliable plan for youngleaf, my hands were tied.

I glared daggers into Hart’s back at that.

We’d stopped by the workshop so I could collect Alaric’s design book. It would at least give me something to work on when locked in my rooms tonight. While it was comforting to think the Feared couldn’t get in, I also couldn’t get out. It was its own kind of prison.

I wanted to fall apart. A little self-pity could do a girl wonders. I just had to take a few more steps.

My focus returned to the large and brooding guard walking ahead of me.

His words from this afternoon still bothered me.

He’d seemed mad at Alaric when we spoke of their agreement for the youngleaf.

I was desperate to know what Alaric claimed to help him with that he didn’t intend to follow through on. That didn’t sound like my uncle.

Then again, until a few days ago, I didn’t know my uncle was buying contraband herbs. I hated acknowledging that maybe I didn’t know Alaric as well as I thought.

Hart hadn’t seemed very fond of Macen in the woods but also hadn’t arrested him. His connection with the Feared was no clearer after that interaction.

Spiraling, I ran face-first into Hart’s back when he stopped. “Umph.”

He was so solid—his body so unforgiving.

I bounced back, more aware than I’d like to be of all the places our bodies had just collided.

He turned, arching an eyebrow, his face giving me nothing.

This was one of the few times I wished I had an adamas stone.

I could slide my hand along the sharp planes of his face and see what color the stone flashed—could see what emotions lingered close to the surface.

I shook my head. I needed to get some rest.

“We’re here,” he said.

To my left, two guards stood outside a small wooden door. Torches on either side of the hallway lit the space. I nodded, moving away from Hart .

“I should check the room.” He stepped in front of me to open the door.

“We already did,” the guard on the left said.

Hart ignored this as he stalked into Alaric’s room—my room.

I followed. I’d never been to Uncle’s rooms at the castle.

They were richly appointed, as I’m sure any room there would be, but they were also on the main floor, toward the kitchens, indicating his place of servitude.

Looking around the room, I couldn’t see anything that reminded me of Alaric.

The bed was neatly made with white linens.

The desk was tidy, with only a few pieces of paper out of place.

It was a different sight from the state of his workshop bench.

The bureau was large and made of intricately carved dark wood, but I did not imagine Alaric picking it out for himself.

I wanted to go to the desk and see what might be hidden in the drawers. I’d wait until Hart was gone to do so.

He scoured the room, even crouching to check beneath the bed.

“Looking for monsters?” I asked.

He stood as he finished his assessment, stopping beside the fireplace. “You don’t seem to realize how many are out there, Chaos.”

I held in an eye roll. The monsters I feared were in this castle, draped in fine clothes and smiling to my face while they stole life from the citizens of Kavios. “I’ll be fine.”

His curt nod was dismissive. “I’ll be back first thing in the morning. The guards outside won’t let you go to Alaric’s workshop without me.”

An ornately furnished cage indeed.

Hart studied me like he would pry the thoughts from my head. The fire in the grate cast a deep glow on his features, highlighting those forest-green eyes that pierced so deeply. Before he could say anything else, a knock sounded at the door, drawing his attention.

“Oh!” A faint voice echoed as Hart opened it.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Prince Elias assigned me to see to the jeweler’s needs.”

I tried to glance around Hart’s broad frame, but he filled the doorway. I waved a hand over his shoulder, trying to draw her attention. “Hi, I’m Emberline, the jeweler.”

Hart sighed and sidestepped, allowing me access to the woman. She was petite, with light brown hair and large, expressive eyes. Upon seeing me, her smile lit the hall, and she dipped into a curtsey. I reached for her, desperate to pull her into the room, but I was too slow.

The guard on the right let his hand slide up her arm—the adamas ring on his finger flashed yellow. Her smile faded as the guard stole the slip of joy she’d shown.

“Careful there.” The guard let her go as quickly as he’d touched her, but she hadn’t stumbled or asked for his aid. There was no mistaking what the guard had done.

Hart stepped between the woman and the guard, guiding her into the room. She stumbled, and her gaze darted toward Hart over her shoulder as he closed the door.

“He won’t touch you,” I said.

Hart held my gaze. I couldn’t decipher what lingered there.

I didn’t know why I said it. I was confident enough that Hart wouldn’t attempt to take from me, but I had no such guarantee he wouldn’t take from a servant in the castle.

They, especially, were paid well, with the expectation of such occurrences.

After collecting herself, the woman appeared to accept my assurances. “Have you eaten? Would you like a bath?”

I hadn’t considered what seeing to my needs might entail. I shook off the connection with Hart, focusing on the woman. “Are you alright? Do you need anything? ”

She waved me off. “I’m here to serve you.”

I nodded, accepting that she wanted to move on. “You can make a meal and a bath happen?”

Yes, I was in the castle, where luxury I’d never experienced was available, but I hadn’t expected it to be offered to me.

She curtsied. “Of course. I can have hot water and food brought in.”

“What is your name?” I asked.

“Penelope.”

Not having to leave this room for these necessities was wholly satisfying. I was dirty and exhausted from the mines. Sadness and worry clung to me like bad habits. Washing and eating wouldn’t magically cure it, but they would be solid steps to catching my breath and collecting my thoughts.

“Nice to meet you, Penelope. Food and a bath sounds wonderful.”

Hart opened the door to leave. “Goodnight.”

He let a pause linger in the space between us before exiting. It left little doubt that he added the nickname, Chaos, in his mind, even if he knew better than to say it with an audience.

I was right. Eating and washing helped clear my head.

Nothing had been solved. I still worried for Alaric and myself.

The trip through the Oldwood today and into the mines was still unnerving.

I couldn’t believe how quickly I’d failed to stay focused.

The Oldwood’s pull was as strong as ever, no matter how much I’d attempted to numb myself to it.

Alaric had been right; I’d need an escort if I ever had the opportunity to leave Kavios as originally planned. I begrudgingly admitted that Hart proved a decent choice.

Still, the necessity was disappointing and utterly confusing. Why was I so affected by the woods? Hart didn’t appear to have any issues, nor did any of the miners.

I shook my head, having no answers, and focused instead on something I understood: jewelry making. If nothing else, I was a competent jeweler. I would craft the rings for the soon-to-be Blessed, and Prince Elias would continue his search for my uncle.

It felt like such a feeble promise from a man who held such power. The prince held all the cards. I wasn’t sure how to change that—wasn’t sure that I could—but I would certainly use everything Alaric taught me to try.

I’d laid out the other option for Father yesterday, but as I’d told him, it wasn’t a real one. I could run away. If I left, the Feared wouldn’t need to try to kill me. I’d no longer be granting the Blessed power.

They could try to recruit Father, but he couldn’t source the adamas.

If he tried and failed, there was no telling what the royal’s wrath would entail.

Not only that, if he was eventually returned to Mother in one piece, they’d have no funds for the youngleaf.

While Hart hadn’t indicated he’d charge me coin, I couldn’t assume that’s how he operated with all his customers. Mother needed the tonic.

Leaving was a nice dream, a goal I’d believed attainable before Alaric went missing, but it was now out of reach due to the realities of my new family responsibilities. I sat on the bed and flipped through Alaric’s notebook.

The notebook held every design he’d ever created. He was meticulous about that, as he was when recording any experiments he did in his workshop. Things around him might seem in disarray, but he knew precisely what needed to be done and what he’d learned from a prior attempt.

Designing rings and the adamas gems to fit them was no different.

Prince Elias was right in his assumption.

Alaric had designed the new pieces already.

I tilted my head in thought. This seemed like too much forethought for Alaric.

He never missed a deadline, but he wasn’t exactly a planner.

Alaric tended to procrastinate on his work for the Blessed.

Why were these designs ready? With his disappearance, they must’ve been prepared days before the Selection.

I nestled deeper into the blankets as I flipped through the pages. The designs were lovely, but I wouldn’t say they were complicated or unique for Alaric’s skills. Instead, they highlighted what the Blessed cared about: the size of the adamas stone.

The four settings and gems for the Selected were straightforward.

My brow furrowed as I studied the enhancement.

This ring was thick with ornate carvings, and it looked familiar.

The designs on the gold band stretched like licking flames over the knuckle, teasing the memory I needed.

I recognized this ring. Hart had been wearing it the morning he’d visited Alaric’s workshop.

This design had been turned in to the prince for approval on the same day as the meeting with Hart. There was no way Hart could have been wearing it unless this design was a duplicate of a ring already in existence.

Why would Alaric be making a duplicate?

The name beside the commission was R. Lourd. I read Alaric’s scribbled notes in the corner next to the name. Usually, it was details about size, fit, or style. Here, it referenced another page in the sketchbook. I flipped to the referenced page.

It was a much earlier design, but it matched this one exactly.

The commission name was the same: R. Lourd.

This was the second commission of the same design for the same Blessed.

I wasn’t familiar with enhancements, so maybe this made sense.

Usually, they served to give the Blessed a larger adamas stone. This one didn’t.

That wasn’t what bothered me, though. R. Lourd wasn’t even close to Hart’s name. The image of the ring on Hart’s finger wouldn’t be dismissed. Why did Hart have it? Why hadn’t he worn it since that morning?

It was odd that he didn’t display his adamas like the rest of the Blessed.

A simple answer swirled in my mind, but I didn’t want to think it.

It added another layer of complexity to all the current spinning thoughts I had about Hart.

But Alaric never did let me shy away from a difficult question.

Holding his sketchbook, I couldn’t shy away from this new thought. What if the ring wasn’t Hart’s?

The Feared will have your gem for this. A reckless shout from a man in the street as we watched a Blessed beat a man for no reason. The conversation with Macen replayed in my head. Maybe the Blessed can no longer hide behind their magic gems.

What if R. Lourd didn’t have the original? What if it was missing—stolen?

I’d been searching for a link between Hart and the Feared.

He’d reassured me about his intentions toward me but hadn’t addressed his relationship with them.

Their conversation had been fraught in the alley.

Hart had seemed … disappointed in Soren’s behavior.

Some part of my mind had decided it had to do with the fact that Soren worked at Forest’s Edge, and Hart used it as a location to sell his contraband items.

What if it was more than that?

The Feared were rumored to be stealing adamas from the Blessed. With Blessed never taking the gems off, it seemed impossible for someone without magic to overpower and steal a gem.

What if a Blessed stole from the Blessed ?

I was putting puzzle pieces together in my mind. While the edges made sense, the middle was still a jumble of shapes with the same colors and patterns.

A Blessed stealing from a Blessed was the only way I imagined this working, but it left out a gaping question that I didn’t think could be answered so quickly.

Why would Hart help them? Why would a Blessed help the Feared?