Page 30 of Jeweler to the Blessed (Champions of Chaos #1)

This was my favorite part of working with quartz.

I loved finding the shape of the stone as the rest fell away.

I’d heard artists say that when they looked at a block of material waiting to be made into a statue, they could already see the figure beneath.

Their job was cutting away the pieces that weren’t required.

This was smaller in scale, but the description felt right.

I wondered what shape it would take. This process was different, as every few minutes, I’d pull the stone back to feel for the heat. It was harder to tell now where the warmth congregated in the stone. The process of shaping caused its own heat. But the difference was still there.

Hart’s steady steps were like a beating drum. I used his rhythm to guide my hand, shaping away the pieces that weren’t quite as warm as the rest. Each step was a new stroke. Each stroke revealed a new facet. I leaned in close as the layers carved away unearthed an imperfection in the stone.

It wasn’t a crack. I pulled the rod away and turned toward the windows to get more light.

Hart’s stepping slowed, but he didn’t stand. “What is it?”

“There’s something … almost like …” I couldn’t believe I was going to say this. “It’s almost like it’s melted … inside the stone. That can’t be, though.”

“Why not?” His voice reminded me of Alaric’s when he asked me to check my assumptions at the door. I was unsure if he understood the significance of the question.

“It’s not the way this gem forms. Any pressure or heating would be on the outer layer of the stone, the one the miners pry through. The center has had the most time to compress and harden. The stone is hardest in the center.”

“But the center wasn’t always the center, right?”

I guessed that was correct. At one point, the center was the edge, but that would have been ages ago. Years of pressure should have smoothed out this internal mark, and I told him as much.

“What do we know about how adamas is formed, though?”

He was right about that. Everything I knew was about quartz. I only assumed adamas was the same because they looked identical. They weren’t, and I knew that better than most.

I was sick of his questions and wanted to turn them on him for a while. “What do you know about adamas?”

He arched his brow, indicating that he was fully aware of what I was doing, and chose to allow it. “Everything I know comes from stories of the Sibling Goddesses.”

Out of habit, I glanced at the mirror above the workbench, angled into the front shop to ensure no one was listening.

The shop was empty. I could see passersby on the street, but none slowed to enter.

It was unlikely anyone else would today.

I worked for the Glanmores. Now that I’d taken the Selecteds’ measurements, I had everything I needed until tomorrow.

“How are they related?” I asked.

His smile reached his eyes. It was one of the more genuine smiles I’d seen on him. My curiosity made him happy.

He gestured toward the circular blade, his foot resuming the pace. It was clear he wanted me to keep working while he spoke. “I’m so glad you asked.”

I sighed and stepped back into place.

“Do you have any siblings?”

I shook my head.

“Ah, well, I’ll use this example anyway. Eris was said to have a little sibling complex. She hated that her older sister, Themis, always thought she was right. Hated having to do things a certain way because that’s how Themis had always done them.”

“You sound like you know this complex.”

His voice sobered. “I have a younger brother. I’m sure he would say I’m a classic Themis.”

I glanced over my shoulder to see his gaze held the middle distance like he was lost in thought. He took a moment, but the sound of the adamas, as I let it slide against the blade, seemed to pull him back.

“Themis wouldn’t change. So, Eris decided she would create her own chaos. She called the first champion to challenge the Order Themis had imposed on Linia.”

“Why?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Who knows the whims of goddesses? It’s clear they won’t fight each other directly, but they seem happy to do so through those they rule. A descendant of Chaos’s Champion still rules Linia.”

It was one of the reasons the Library of Linia had appealed to me. Yes, it was widely considered the best source of information on magic, but it was also a kingdom that was said to be different from Kavios in every way.

“Have you ever been to Linia?” I asked.

I’d never met someone who’d left Kavios, but maybe there was more than one reason why Alaric had chosen Hart to escort me through the Oldwood.

His nod sent a chill up my spine. It was possible. I knew it had to be. The obvious next question drew down my elation. Why had he wanted to leave? Why hadn’t King Rodric’s calm kept him complacent?

He continued before I could voice them. “When Themis realized what Eris had done, she summoned her own champion to fight for the throne—to reimpose her order. The Sisters continue to let their champions determine the fate of each of the continent’s three kingdoms.”

I thought of the copy of Champions of Kavios in the storage closet. That book didn’t speak to the origin of the goddesses’ champions—only that neither champion in Kavios had yet been victorious.

Even that I questioned, since King Rodric publicly worshiped Themis, but I didn’t know when Champions of Kavios was written. Regardless, everything Hart said was precisely what Alaric believed.

“So, when Eris and Themis’s Champions finally meet in Kavios, one will have to kill the other for the throne?” I asked.

He sighed. “That is certainly what some believe. And definitely what Themis desires, but I’m not sure that was Eris’s original intent.”

As I asked my question, I pulled the gem back, not wanting to ruin my progress. “What …” What was I even going to ask? How did he claim to know a goddess’s intent? That was ridiculous. “How do you know so much of the Sibling Goddesses?”

The low rumble of his chuckle was back. “I know of many things, Chaos. Where do you think your uncle got all his books?”

My every muscle wanted to turn to the storage room, but I held firm.

Some part of me still didn’t want to go through them with Hart, no matter how familiar he was with them.

I returned the stone to the blade, smoothing the imperfection that had started this conversation.

“What does this have to do with the odd patch in the stone?”

He paused. “Eris’s champions wield magic based on emotion.”

“Her champions are Blessed?” I cut in and immediately winced, thinking of my last conversation with Alaric.

The day before his disappearance, Alaric had pointed out that Champions of Kavios never said the Cursed King was Blessed, at least not how this city understood the term.

It made sense Eris’s Champion wouldn’t be either.

“Never mind that question. How does the magic based on emotion work?” I asked.

He paused dramatically. “If you stop interrupting, I’ll tell you.”

I didn’t give him the satisfaction of telling him I was waiting with bated breath. I feared he already knew.

“Eris’s Champion doesn’t steal emotions to fuel her magic. She wields her own emotions?—”

“What about Themis’s?”

He glared at me, and I pressed my lips together, feigning patience I didn’t have.

“We’re talking about Eris’s Champion now, specifically, her champion in Kavios. The Cursed King is a story for another time.” The steady beat of his foot wavered almost imperceptibly. “Now, you want to know how she wields her own emotions?”

I nodded, not willing to trust my mouth to open. There was no telling how many questions would spill forth.

“The way power is taken in Kavios ... It’s a bastardization of what it could be. Power, at least how Eris imagined it, is granted by what the champion feels. Her Champion’s feelings inspire her magic.”

“So, if she feels fear, she wields nightmares like the Cursed King?” I challenged.

No wonder he and Alaric were friends. I hadn’t heard this story about Chaos’s Champion before, but Alaric studied Eris and Themis more than anything else. He believed, as it sounded like Hart did, that there was more to Chaos than we gave credit .

“She could.”

“You’re so sure Chaos’s Champion is a she; I thought no one knew their identity.”

He raised a brow that said I’d get nothing more on that subject.

I returned to his first point. “If Eris didn’t create a champion to fight Themis’s, then why summon one?”

“I have a few comments,” he said.

I pressed the stone harder against the blade, huffing out my frustration. “Of course you do.”

My focus on the blade meant I didn’t have to see the smirk curl his lip before he spoke.

“Eris doesn’t summon. She calls. Those she calls don’t have to accept.”

I spent so much time reading about the Cursed King and his rebellion against being summoned that I forgot Eris wasn’t the same as Themis.

Another piece of the stone fell away, revealing a perfect facet of the adamas. “What’s your other correction?”

“More of a response to your question. As I said, I think that Eris’s purpose in calling a champion was less nefarious.”

“Which is?” I asked.

“She didn’t want Themis making every decision unchecked. Eris’s Champion would challenge what is known.”

I stopped my work and turned to face him. “What does that mean?”

His eyes danced with mirth. “Whatever you want it to.”

Scoffing, I turned back to the gem. It was almost hot to the touch. The piece was shaping perfectly. I could only hope the rest of the stones went so well. The imperfection fell off with the next facet line.

“I don’t have all the answers, Chaos. There is plenty that only the champions themselves can answer. ”

“So, your original point—the champions don’t need adamas to wield magic.

What the Blessed do is a bastardization of the champions’ power—what does this have to do with the imperfection in this stone?

” I picked up the piece before it fell to the blade.

I held it up to the light again. It was definitely melted.

“Just that the goddesses didn’t create adamas stone to wield the magic of emotion. They created champions with magic. So, maybe we don’t know anything about where the adamas originates.”