Page 27 of Jeweler to the Blessed (Champions of Chaos #1)

His curse was that he needed her. What he’d do when he found her was far from certain.

— FROM CHAMPIONS OF KAVIOS

S leep was elusive as my mind turned over reasons why Hart—a Blessed—would help the Feared. Each hypothesis I considered was more unlikely than the last.

Maybe Hart still had family without magic. It happened occasionally, though I was convinced King Rodric focused his Blessing on those who would be most grateful—those with no one else.

I didn’t know how to confront Hart about any of this or if I even should. The fact that he had an original, of a ring needing to be duplicated, was damning. It put him even more in bed with the Feared than I thought.

Macen might know of his role in all of this. It would explain why Hart didn’t arrest him.

Hart may be duty-bound by the prince to protect me, but he was also duty-bound not to commit treason. With these sins uncovered, I questioned my safety.

Mornings spent in Alaric’s workshop usually calmed me. I knew a big part of that was the man himself, but the urge to be in his space was overwhelming. As I started this new day with so many unknowns, I needed to get to Alaric’s workshop—without Hart.

I wanted time to search Alaric’s things. Maybe something in them could help me make sense of…anything.

The last few days had been a lot, and each new piece of information seemed like it would be the last straw.

Mother needed her tonic. Alaric needed to be found. I wanted to leave on my planned journey, hiking through the Oldwood undeterred.

The Feared wanted me gone. I didn’t want to die, but I also didn’t disagree with their logic. If I were gone, the flow of adamas would end.

These thoughts cycled as I readied for the day. Hart said to wait for him, but I wouldn’t—couldn’t. I had too much to sort through, and though I was pretty confident Hart either knew of Alaric’s banned books or wouldn’t care, I didn’t want him with me. I wanted to clear my head.

When I opened the door to my room, both guards stood at attention outside. They turned toward me, helmets in place, blocking my ability to read their expressions.

“You can’t leave,” the one on the right said.

I gave him my best glare. “Hart is going to meet me at Alaric’s workshop.”

They glanced at each other. “That’s not?— ”

“Emberline, with me.” Vaddon’s cloak billowed around him as he rounded the corner, storming down the hallway.

The guards slowly glanced at each other. The one who’d just spoken shrugged. Telling me no was one thing, saying the same to the king’s advisor was another.

Vaddon was steps beyond my door now. He hadn’t slowed. “Emberline.”

I shook my head, getting what I wanted even as I was called like a dog to come. Focus on the win , I told myself. I was getting out of my room without Hart.

“How were the mines?” Vaddon asked.

“Fine. But I don’t have enough adamas for the pieces Prince Elias approved. They said I’ll need to return after the Cornucopia.”

“Very good.” Vaddon wasn’t a particularly tall man, but his steps were brisk. He had a cold efficiency that, in another life, I might have respected.

We were at the massive castle doors before I got my bearings.

“I’ll leave you to it.” Vaddon stormed off as quickly as he’d arrived.

This seemed too easy. I stared down the steps, wondering if I should worry. I glanced from side to side. Nothing had gone my way for the last two days, so maybe—just maybe—Alaric’s goddess was finally sending some luck my way. With a final check over my shoulder, I descended the staircase.

The streets were easy enough to navigate so early. I arrived at Alaric’s workshop quickly. My fingers flexed, thinking about touching the familiar books in his storage room. I wasn’t focused on my surroundings as I pulled the key from my pocket.

Unfamiliar hands grabbed me, pulling me toward the alley. I panicked. My leg kicked back, and my hand reached for the dagger at my hip without thought. As my foot met my attacker’s groin, I turned and slammed the blade into their shoulder.

They grunted in pain, and the hood fell back, revealing his face, as I pulled the dagger out and pushed myself away.

My hands shook. I didn’t recognize him as he fell to his knees.

Before I could look up, another pair of boots appeared beside the man I’d just dispatched.

My breaths came faster as I realized there were others.

I couldn’t release a scream before another attacker lunged.

Swiping again with my blade, I ran.

Screaming wouldn’t help. No one would stop to help. This city didn’t take care of its own. If I survived this encounter, I’d remind myself how stupid it was to leave the castle without a guard, even if I currently doubted mine.

I sprinted down a side street, cutting south. Maybe I could lose them. But just like the night of the festival, my access off the side street was blocked. Another group of men and women stood there, arms crossed, waiting.

“It’ll be easier if you come with us.” A woman held a knife in her hand and leaned against the wall. She seemed unconcerned that I was armed and even less concerned I would do any damage with my single weapon.

I turned to run back the way I’d come, but the Cross Street entrance was filled with those who pursued me.

This was it. My heart thudded in my chest. They were going to take me.

My knuckles turned white as I regripped the dagger with determination.

The least I could do was take a few of them with me.

I angled myself to see both sets of attackers and stepped back.

The stone wall of the building greeted me. I had nowhere to go.

“Put down the dagger, and we’ll make this painless,” a man with dark hair and a beard said.

I shook my head, unable to find words to respond. Scanning the group, I didn’t recognize anyone from the last encounter at the festival. Were there really so many of the Feared?

As much as I sympathized with their rationale, it was my life they were targeting. I wouldn’t let it go so easily. My jaw clenched, and I lifted my blade as I readied for whoever came at me next.

“Fucking Chaos.”

The voice should be the last one I wanted to hear, but I couldn’t remember why. My shoulders almost sagged in relief as Hart came into view.

His sword was out, and anger radiated from every inch of his body. Something dripping from the sword caught my eye … Blood?

“Anyone else?” Hart asked. A body lay at his feet, unmoving.

Efficient , I thought, as my heart still raced.

My attackers appeared unconvinced. The ones who blocked my path took slow steps toward me, and those closest to Hart readied for a fight.

“So be it,” Hart grumbled.

Our gazes held across the attackers. He nodded in reassurance even as he looked like he would strangle me himself. The next swing of his sword dropped another attacker. The man screamed in pain, but Hart was already stabbing another.

I dragged my attention from Hart’s brutal progress.

The woman against the wall lunged. I slashed with my dagger, but she dodged.

My pulse raced again as she grabbed my arm.

I hadn’t even checked if they were Blessed.

No magic prickled my neck. I felt no pull, no attempt to take, as she wrapped her arms around me, jostling my protective layer of clothing.

I kicked and flailed my head back, striking her face.

My arm broke free, and I sliced through the air again with my dagger .

Someone else grabbed me. The man’s hand wrapped around my exposed wrist. Still unsure if they were Blessed, the direct contact drove me to panic.

They were going to take me—going to kill me.

I couldn’t look up, couldn’t see where Hart was.

The idea that he could fight off a dozen people alone was laughable. Why hadn’t I doubted it earlier?

I didn’t want to die. Fear shook my body.

The man’s hand released. A scream broke from his lips. He fell to the ground, clutching the sides of his head in agony. The pose was familiar, but I didn’t have time to consider it much as Hart’s blade slid into his chest.

Then, Hart’s eyes met mine, searching. “Alright, Emberline?”

I didn’t think he’d ever used my real name. He spoke it hesitantly now. Which made no sense as I pulled my gaze from his and scanned the side street.

What happened to the last man who’d attacked me? The question in Hart’s gaze was the same as mine.

Six bodies lay between where he stood and where I was now.

The seventh was the man he’d stabbed at my feet.

I glanced south. Those who had stood there, ran.

I couldn’t blame them. Turning, Hart still appraised me.

His left hand lifted like he’d reach for me.

Maybe in reassurance? Either way, I flinched on instinct, my body pressing against the stone wall.

He tilted his head and looked to the sky, his eyes closing.

He looked longingly after those fleeing down the side street like they were a treat he couldn’t wait to consume. “Let’s get you back to the castle.”

“No.” Finally, I found my voice.

I stopped shaking as I realized the danger was gone.

Hart had stopped them. Something had happened to the last man who’d touched me—I still didn’t know what—but the overwhelming fear that had overtaken me dissolved.

I wouldn’t go back to the castle and cower.

There was too much I had to do today, and I had wasted too much time already.

“No?” Hart asked.

If anything, this attack proved how unprepared I was for my position. Apparently, I needed a guard, one that I trusted. I had to determine whether that was Hart.

“No.”

I couldn’t sit and stew on this. Those had to have been the Feared.

Hart had saved me—again. I didn’t know what more I could expect from him.

He may be in league with them to take down the Blessed, but as I surveyed the bodies on the ground again, he was clearly opposed to letting them take me.

I needed to know why. We needed to talk about the ring, and I needed to go through Alaric’s things.

“Take me back to Alaric’s workshop. Please.”

His nostrils flared like he’d prefer any other request. He knelt and wiped his blade on the body before us—the body that had fallen before Hart had even touched it. The one he still looked at with suspicion, or maybe that was how he looked at me.

The sound of metal sliding into his hip sheath drew my gaze. “As you wish, Chaos.”