Page 37 of Jeweler to the Blessed (Champions of Chaos #1)

They both would have to feel deeply. It’s no small feat in a city like ours.

— FROM CHAMPIONS OF KAVIOS

A s Hart and I held each other’s gaze in the hallway, a million questions fought to fall from my lips. He’d delivered Mother’s tonic before I knew about it. He proved he would hold up to a deal with Alaric that Alaric was in no position to enforce.

He said he’d keep me safe—and my damned gut wanted to believe him.

I needed more than that. Would Hart continue to take care of Mother’s tonic if I were gone? Would it matter if the Glanmores came for Father anyway?

Then there were Mother’s words. She rambled, yes, but I’d learned to listen. What did she want me to do about the Cursed King? I still assumed he wanted me gone, like the Feared. It was best to stay out of his line of sight.

Knowing King Rodric’s power over this city, I couldn’t stand by and help grow it. I couldn’t create more Blessed for him. I didn’t know where that left me, and I needed someone with whom I could talk about all this.

My gut wanted it to be Hart, and while I hated it, it didn’t tend to be wrong. The rest of me would feel better if I could find some logical reason to back it up.

Hart didn’t speak, though some of my burning questions must have been evident on my face. Hart helped the Feared. Maybe he could tell me more about the Cursed King. Finally, I opened my mouth to speak.

“Not here,” he said.

I gestured to the staircase. “Lead the way.”

He raised a brow. “Your place or mine?”

I sucked in a breath.

“To talk,” he clarified.

I knew that, obviously. “Someone posted sentries outside my door. So if we go to mine, we have to be quiet.”

“I have no illusion that you’d be quiet.” The low rumble of his voice made the double entendre even more suggestive. It had my toes curling in my boots.

“I guess that leaves yours.”

I spoke with more confidence than I felt. I was in over my head, but if I was going to seriously consider not handing over the adamas, I’d need an ally.

He led us to the stairs. I glanced over my shoulder before we descended. I didn’t know the next time I’d get to see my parents. If I left the city because of whatever plans I concocted, I may never see them again. The feeling was as freeing as it was suffocating.

I was starting to take more of a liking to the Cursed King’s story. His defiance in the face of a goddess’s summons at times seemed petulant. Now, with the trappings of the Glanmores dictating my actions, I understood it.

Whatever I did next would be my choice, and I needed to live with myself once I made it.

My chest tightened as I thought of all that could go wrong. Hart must have seen something in my face, putting himself in my line of vision.

His eyes were so green they felt like they held their own power of persuasion. “Hey. You’ll be back.”

I let out a shaky breath. He had no idea what I was thinking—no idea what I might do.

I knew all that but still chose to believe his words.

His voice held that conviction that consistently made me believe he prioritized my safety, even when everything else begged me to question him. I wanted to believe him on this too.

I couldn’t help the nervous laugh that bubbled in my chest when Hart led us to the door of Forest’s Edge. The heavy wooden handle was one I was becoming too familiar with.

“Your room is in the tavern?” I asked. “What a revelation.”

His glare said he was unamused. “There is nowhere better for a conversation you don’t want to be overheard.”

Given the number of conversations Serena had shared with me in the last few days, I wasn’t sure about that. I said as much to Hart.

The way his lip curled told me I was in for something I wasn’t sure I’d like.

“The conversations in the curtained alcoves are as private as they come.”

My heart raced of its own accord. Ava must agree with him since she’d taken me to one a few hours ago. I’d been anxious enough with Ava, and she’d kept her distance. What exactly would this entail?

I’d be damned if I asked.

Hart’s smirk was smackable, but to his credit, he waited before opening the door and ushering us in. Our gazes locked, tempting me to suggest an alternative. The flutter in my abdomen said this was a bad idea.

I swallowed and pulled the door open.

He whispered in my ear as we crossed the room, searching for an open alcove. “We’ll be able to keep our distance unless someone comes by, wanting to take the space. They are … prioritized for taking.”

This was the fullest I’d seen the tavern. Every seat at the bar was occupied. Guests sprawled through the central dining space. Many sat at packed tables, and some stood, moving between groups. The room was alive, even more so than the city at this hour.

Orange flashed through each curtained alcove we passed. Most were occupied, but Hart must have spotted one that was open as he turned and led us to the back corner.

The alcove he led us to was well shielded from prying eyes. A staircase to the second floor partially blocked its view of the room, but there was a door beside it that few slipped through. I took a position on the plush seat.

“The gambling rooms,” he said, noticing my attention. “Most going in won’t give us a second glance.”

I was at a loss for words. This alcove was different than the one Ava and I had spoken in earlier.

The plush seat was more of a daybed. Large enough for two, maybe three people, but didn’t provide the luxury of distance.

Scooting back on the seat, my shoulders hit the cushion, and my legs curled beneath me .

Hart tracked my movements. His eyes finally met mine. “Ready?”

Ready as I was going to be. I dipped my chin.

He crawled the length of the daybed. My heartbeat spiked with each movement. As he rolled to a seated position, his arm sprawled across the cushion behind me.

“This alright?”

Words escaped me. No matter what we discussed, this felt like a choice of its own. Had I ever let a Blessed so casually close to me? I swallowed.

“You know you’ll have to speak for this to work, right?” His smirk was back.

The deep desire to wipe it from his face helped balance my nerves. In practice, I knew he was correct. I’d obviously need to say something, but I could feel the heat of his hand behind my neck. These alcoves didn’t seem like they were meant for talking.

I sat up straighter, desperate to maintain some control.

“Do you know the Cursed King?” I asked.

He knew the Feared, even if his opinion on them seemed to be shifting. How long had the famed figure been with them? What were his goals? The story of Themis’s Champion was hundreds of years old. He hadn’t shown himself in the city in all that time. What could he want now?

He chuckled. “Why do you ask?”

At that moment, the curtain parted, and Ava walked in. She had a tray full of drinks balanced atop her hand. “I saw you two sneak back here and figured I’d better be your server.”

She set down two glasses with heavy pours of warm brown liquid.

“Thanks, Ava,” Hart said.

“I was already covering the alcoves tonight, so no one else should stop in.” She held Hart’s gaze like she was trying to tell him something else. Something I wasn’t privy to.

He waved away her concern. “It’ll be fine.”

She shook her head and closed the sheer curtains behind her as she left.

Hart’s intense focus returned to me. “Now, what was your question?”

“Do you know what he wants?”

Hart sipped his drink before setting it on the table beside the daybed. “What any man summoned by a goddess and cursed by another wants—freedom to choose.”

I clutched the glass of my own drink for reassurance. “Does he lead the Feared?”

“More or less.” He picked up his drink as if the words caused his need for another sip. “The Feared are a rebel group united around an idea. They follow his lead, so long as they see the mission they believe in accomplished.”

“But they’re magicless … He’s not. How can they have the same mission?”

Hart raised his brow. “Surely, you don’t have to experience a wrongdoing to know the behavior is wrong?”

I hummed softly, considering. He was correct, but wasn’t that a little too convenient for Themis’s Champion? Shouldn’t he simply take the throne and be done with it?

“So, Themis’s Champion is interested in taking power from the Blessed?”

He nodded.

I set aside the complexities of that for a moment, needing to be a little selfish. Mother’s words had me on edge. “Then I’m a problem to him, just like I’m a problem for the Feared.”

He shook his head. “The fastest way to stop the Blessed’s number from growing may be to remove you. But to take the city from them? No. To hold power in this city, it must be taken from King Rodric.”

“Easier said than done. The Cursed King may have nightmare magic, but King Rodric can wipe away the memory of it,” I said.

Hart’s jaw clenched. Then, the alcove curtain parted. A man and woman stumbled in. The man’s hand caressed the woman’s neck, moving south, and the adamas gem on his finger flashed orange.

“This one is occupied,” Hart grumbled.

“Doesn’t look like it.” The man’s gaze lingered on the space between Hart and me—the space that proved he wasn’t currently taking.

I hoped never to be on the receiving end of the glare Hart gave in return.

“I don’t expect everyone to understand that there is a finesse to the process,” he said pointedly. “Rushing only disappoints your partner.”

He glanced at the woman, whose eyes widened as his words registered. She turned and stormed out of the alcove, the man chasing after her.

“Is that true?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

Hart rounded on me, and a smile curled his lip. “I’d be happy to help you find out.”

He leaned forward, and my heart was in my throat. I hoped he couldn’t hear the erratic beats it made as the distance closed between us.