Page 35 of Jeweler to the Blessed (Champions of Chaos #1)

I fear this city has forced her to apathy.

— ALARIC SARE’S LETTERS TO ISABELLE ARKOVA

I fought his hold. “Let me go, Hart.”

The panic of an unknown attacker left as quickly as it had arrived. A different feeling pulsed through me as I pushed against my guard. His hand was firmly clasped around my arm—his body inches from mine against the stone wall of the alley.

Even as he manhandled me, he’d been careful only to grab my covered wrists. Now, he leaned into my space. “Not until you listen to me.”

I thrashed again. He only reaffirmed his grip. An image, unbidden, flooded my mind. Those rough hands on my bare skin—demanding and unyielding in their conquest.

I shook away the thought and shoved against him again. “Let go.”

I raised my knee in my only other defensive move. He saw it coming and sidestepped while his hand clamped harder on my wrist.

“Dammit, Chaos,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

I couldn’t take it. Heat built inside me at his proximity. It clouded my senses and stripped my tongue of the reason I held so dear. “Why are you blackmailing me when Alaric said the tonic was already taken care of?”

This time, when I pushed against his arm, he let go. Stepping back, he stretched his neck in consideration. “You spoke with Alaric?”

“I just want to know if the tonic has been taken care of. Answer me. Don’t wield whatever leverage you think you have.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s taken care of.”

“So, you lied to me?”

“I had an agreement with Alaric, not with you.”

I leaned into his space. “They were for the same thing!”

His lip curled. The appearance of his smirk told me I was not going to like what came out of his mouth next. “They were not. He asked for a tonic to be delivered to an address. You asked for an herb. Very different.”

My hands curled into fists, the nails piercing the inside of my palm in my frustration. “You?—”

He folded his arms across his chest. “What, Chaos? I knew what they were for? You see, I didn’t. I knew what Alaric’s was for. He trusted me with that information. You did not.”

“But you … My mother … the Oldwood.”

I was so mad I couldn’t string a complete sentence together. I didn’t need to. Hart knew what he did and seemed to have no problem acknowledging it .

“I made a gamble that, as with everything else, Alaric left a lot of information out for all of us. But your mother wasn’t in danger, whether you took my deal or not.”

I hoped my glare expressed how full of shit I thought he was. “You’re an asshole.”

He shrugged, unwilling to deny it. “It could have been for you.”

It was my turn to glare. “Look at me. Why would I need it?”

He arched a brow. I knew from the look that I’d asked the wrong question. And as much as I wanted to blame Alaric again for leaving me so unprepared, I knew my emotions were getting the best of me with Hart.

“The herb has … other uses. I thought you were aware of that.”

It was too late now to pretend I knew otherwise. “What other uses?”

“It is a powerful stimulant, enhancing emotions, feelings, abilities …”

“Why would I want to feel more in this Siblings-cursed city?”

His piercing gaze held mine for another beat, debating something. He ran a hand through his hair as he shared a fact that quenched my need for information like water in the desert did thirst. “Your uncle used it to avoid the king’s calming influence. He drank it with his tea.”

My mouth hung open in disbelief.

“So you could imagine”—he gave me a significant look—“why I thought you might do the same.”

Of course. This was why he was unsurprised that the king’s calm didn’t affect me at the Cornucopia. This misstep, I laid squarely at Alaric’s feet. Again, he chose not to tell me. He knew I didn’t need it, but why not explain what he knew?

I turned to walk away. This was too much. Had it only been hours ago that I wondered if Hart was like me? I thought maybe I’d found someone who could explain why I was the way I was.

The man in question slid into my path. “Absolutely not, Chaos. We are not done.”

“Come with me, or don’t; I don’t care. I’m going to see my parents.”

He lifted a hand to gesture me forward. “Fine.”

“You’re going with me?”

Anger still surged in the depths of his gaze.

He let out a breath. “I’m not letting you continue to traipse through a city trying to kill you on your own.

I can’t begin to tell you how stupid it was for you to walk into Forest’s Edge.

Now, let’s get going, shall we? Before anyone notices your absence. ”

“How did you notice my absence?”

His hand pressed against the wall on my left side, and he leaned in. “I like the shortened version of your name. Ember. Does only Alaric use it?”

My brow furrowed. Only family did. It added another layer of confusion to hear it from his lips. “What does that?—”

“Just answer the question.”

His proximity was distracting. “My mother does …”

He let the silence hang between us, thick and heavy. “You are a single ember, lighting the darkest night, a beacon calling me across kingdoms. I’d find you anywhere, Chaos.”

His words shot chills up my spine and gooseflesh across my skin. His gaze was too intimate, too knowing. I was too lost in it.

Finally, he stepped back. His lingering smirk told me he knew his words had landed. Determined not to let them affect me, I straightened my spine and left the alley.

Hart let me lead, though he was never far behind. Every time I snuck a glance at him, his jaw was flexed, hands gripped into fists at his sides. He was fighting some internal battle as we walked through Kavios.

I still couldn’t figure out what to think of him. He’d come clean, but as Ava had pointed out, only because Alaric had outmaneuvered him. What I really hated was that his reasons for thinking I might use the youngleaf separately from Mother, unfortunately, made sense.

When I turned to look at him as I rounded the first-floor staircase of my parents’ apartment building, he held my gaze like he’d been waiting for it. He hadn’t asked anything about what we were doing here, and I didn’t share.

“I understand doing anything to care for your mother.” His words were a whisper.

Unsure what this was, I waited. Hart had mentioned he had a younger brother, but it was one of the few personal details he’d shared. I was desperate to know more about this man who seemed to know more about my uncle than I did.

His voice remained quiet. “My mother died because of my actions.”

I questioned whether I’d heard him correctly. The pain etched into his features when he stopped speaking told me I had.

My heart cracked a little at the words. Cracked in a way that only someone who carried the same weight could. I opened my mouth to say something. What? I wasn’t sure. Offer my condolences? I knew it didn’t help.

“There was one part of our property I wasn’t supposed to go to.

I knew as much from a young age, and my mother ensured I had plenty of other entertainment.

I had more than I needed. Avoiding the area in question shouldn’t have been a problem.

But I was young and reckless, and”—he shook his head at his younger self’s stupidity—“I went anyway.”

Something changed in his face. The pain remained, but a fierce resolve slipped in with it. Telling this story was costing him something.

I wanted to hear the story as much as I wanted to know why he was sharing it.

“My mother, of course, came after me. But there was a reason I wasn’t supposed to be there. It was dangerous. She died helping me return.”

By his stops and starts, I could tell he’d left out much of the story. His pain was real, though. He believed he was responsible for his mother’s death. I couldn’t blame him. For a while, I’d believed I was responsible for Mother’s condition.

His fists were still clenched at his side when our gazes met.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

The words seemed inadequate, but they were all I had.

“Me too.”

He offered me this part of him. I wanted to give a piece of myself in return. He knew the king’s calm didn’t affect me, and thanks to Alaric’s need to keep information from me, he knew it wasn’t because of youngleaf. If nothing else, this would help him understand.

“I don’t know what Alaric told you, but a Blessed—they took too much from my mother. They were trying to take from me, and she knocked me away.”

I couldn’t bring myself to fill in the gap, to say why they pulled too hard, that their first attempt to take from me had failed.

His eyes widened slightly. I didn’t think it was because of my story. It was, unfortunately, a common one in Kavios. More likely, he was surprised that I was saying anything at all. As much as he hadn’t shared his history with me, I hadn’t shared with him either.

“I’m sorry that happened.”

I swallowed, realizing I had much to say now that I’d started. “When I was young, she was nearly comatose, unable to get out of bed. She’d only speak vague words or half-sentences … for years. Father spent all his time caring for her. Which left me to run the shop.”

I’d never told this to anyone. Others in the neighborhood knew, of course, but that was different.

“How old were you?” he asked.

I laughed, but it was hollow. “Eight when it happened. I was ten when Father stopped joining me at the shop.”

I chanced a glance at him. Something like horror flooded his features. It wasn’t pity, though, and that was the most important thing to me. I didn’t want Hart’s pity.

“Alaric helped me,” I rushed to continue. “He worked both in his position and helped me with mine. I owe him everything.”

Something contorted on Hart’s face. It was a mix of anger and maybe sadness. “It sounds like he did what he was able to. But you should never have been asked to do that so young.”

I shrugged. “We don’t always get to make those choices. My family needed the income. Mother and Father were no longer capable of providing it. Someone had to.”

“And no one had an issue placing jewelry orders with a child?”