Page 39 of Jeweler to the Blessed (Champions of Chaos #1)

They are more alike than either of them would ever believe.

— ALARIC SARE’S LETTERS TO ISABELLE ARKOVA

T rue to his word, Hart was at the door to my room before the sun rose.

Something passed between us when our eyes met.

With the night guards standing sentry just behind him, I couldn’t comment.

Mostly, I wanted to believe something had changed for us last night.

Eager to learn more about the youngleaf and his role in its distribution, we walked in companionable silence to Alaric’s shop.

If the youngleaf’s properties were as varied as Hart said, it was a critical resource for the city’s residents.

Where was it grown? How was it distributed?

I had many questions, and the answers might help me think of a future for Mother outside of Kavios.

If I could get her and Father out of the city with a steady youngleaf supply, maybe I’d be free to run.

We didn’t have unlimited time. The Selection events continued, leading up to the King’s Blessing.

Today, we collected more adamas—the four gems needed to be ready for the Presentation.

I could finish the settings and rings the day after.

Technically, that was the day of the Masquerade, but it wasn’t an event that required the jeweler.

It was more of a debauched celebration of the Blessed, welcoming new members into their circle of opulence.

I unlocked the door to the workshop with cautious optimism. Maybe a plan would take shape with more information on both of these topics. One that didn’t risk my family. I was almost too excited to worry about the walk through the Oldwood this trip required.

Or maybe I didn’t worry because Hart would be with me.

I grabbed my bag from the back of Alaric’s workshop. “Do we need anything else today?”

Tamara, the mine foreman, had said I’d do more than sort gems this time. I couldn’t help but expect to go through the locked door. I desperately wanted to know what was inside.

“They should let you into the adamas cavern. But I don’t think you need any tools besides your hands.”

I turned to face him as I leaned against the workbench. “And what is the order of operations for our journey?”

His brows raised. “You really want to go?”

The hesitation in his voice made me realize I wasn’t the only one unsure of our alliance. I nodded.

He looked conflicted. “You don’t owe me anything?—”

“Can you give me a hint about where we’re going?”

His lip tilted into a smile as I ignored his objections. “It’s … well, it’s a settlement in the foothills.”

“A settlement?” I couldn’t imagine how that was possible .

Someone should know, shouldn’t they? I guessed if the king made everyone so calm that they didn’t care about the outside world, maybe this was proof that it was working exactly as intended.

Hart’s excitement was growing. “We should be able to get there and then over to the mines this morning if you’re sure. It’s not too far out of the way.”

He looked almost boyish. Except anyone looking into his eyes wouldn’t mistake him for a youth. His gaze held knowledge, sadness, and desperation that only came with age.

A question formed on my lips. It slipped out before I could stop myself. “How old are you?”

I’d had my hands on his chest last night, and in the heat of the moment, I hadn’t checked for an adamas pendant. My cheeks flushed. That uniform hadn’t hidden anything.

Was there any chance he wasn’t Blessed?

Hart laughed. “No need to be that honest with each other, Chaos.” He turned to leave.

“Hart, I’m serious.”

I took pride when his head dropped back, looking at the ceiling. When he asked a goddess for patience in dealing with me, I knew I was on the right track. “I’m old.”

“Older than Alaric?”

“Yes,” he grumbled.

Alaric wasn’t so old, just over fifty, but older and looking the way Hart did proved he was Blessed.

“One hundred?” Now, I wouldn’t be satisfied until I had the answer.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Older.”

Even if I couldn’t see the ring, it was there somewhere. I wasn’t sure why I was trying to prove to myself that maybe … he wasn’t.

I sighed. “A hundred and fifty?”

He turned and gave me a knowing glance. “Two hundred and twenty.”

My gaze darted to the storage closet and the history books that Alaric had made me study. “This city is only officially two hundred years old.”

“Alaric taught you everything, didn’t he?”

“Not everything.” The sting of his voluntary abandonment lingered. I wished he’d taught me about whatever drove him to leave Kavios.

Hart stepped toward me, reading too much on my face. “I know the feeling. Come on, Chaos. I need to stop by the tavern before we go.”

The memories from last night came rushing back in. Even the ones I’d tried to repress as I thought about my hands exploring his chest. That was one mistake that would haunt me for years to come.

As much as his body tempted me—our conversation had given me hope.

Not the misguided hope the Blessed foist upon the citizens of Kavios, but something real.

There was something in this settlement he wanted me to see.

I wanted to understand what it was and decide if it could help change my course—give me an alternate path besides giving more adamas to the Blessed.

Hart and I walked to the Eastern Gate less than an hour later. A smell unlike anything I’d experienced made my nostrils flare. The measly breakfast I’d eaten that morning roiled in my gut as my other senses caught up with what my nose already knew.

Bodies hung on both sides of the gate.

The smell of the rotting corpses was too much for me to take in. My knees weakened.

“What—”

Hart stepped closer, cursing under his breath. “I didn’t think he’d?—”

“Who are th—” I was going to vomit. The pieces fitting together. “Those aren’t …”

Hart nodded. “The group I killed yesterday trying to ambush you? They are.”

There were six of them hanging. Three on each side of the gate. Throats slit, knife wounds to the chest, each body was more brutally executed than the last.

“Did you …” I wasn’t sure what I was asking.

Hart’s face contorted. He held himself rigid, like he wanted to step closer, to keep me from falling. I settled a gloved hand on his arm to put him out of his misery. That it steadied me as we passed through the Eastern Gate was a bonus.

“Close your eyes, Chaos. I’ll guide you.”

I shook my head, putting more pressure on his arm as we walked.

Hart cursed again. “I didn’t think he’d dispose of them this way.”

My breathing was steadier now that they were no longer in view. “I didn’t even think of what happened on the street after we left.”

“I don’t disagree with the message Elias is sending. They weren’t going to stop.”

I waved my hand callously behind us, toward the vicious display. “They appear to be stopped.”

He chuckled. Actually laughed.

I swatted at him. “What is wrong with you?”

His face held no remorse. “They were going to kill you. They deserve worse.”

Did I regret their deaths? I wasn’t sure. Mostly, I was glad it wasn’t me. Seeing the bodies of those who meant to kill me wasn’t something I’d considered my position on. “You said it wasn’t the Feared?”

“It wasn’t anyone I recognized,” Hart said. “But what does that matter? After the display at the festival and the half-assed attempt to reassure the city at the Cornucopia, Elias needs a good story. And that”—he gestured—“is a great story.”

“Those are dead men and women,” I said dryly.

“Who were going to kill you, Chaos. Has that still not sunk in?”

I hmphed, unable to determine where I fell on the matter. My brain said they were trying to improve Kavios, removing the Blessed’s ability to source adamas. My gut said they were trying to kill me, and maybe Hart was a little too easy on them.

I hated my gut.

But it also reminded me that whether they were Feared or not, I had little question that Vaddon was behind the attack.

“Does Vaddon work with the Feared? Like you … do … did?”

Hart tilted his head. “Not that I know of. I’m still determining his motives in all of this. He hasn’t escaped my notice, either. It’s clear he wanted you to be alone on the street that morning. I just can’t prove it.”

Leaving the scent of death with the city, we entered the Oldwood.

I eyed the bag slung over Hart’s shoulder.

He had slipped into the alley next to the tavern and returned with it.

I wanted to know what was inside. Or, possibly, I wanted to distract myself for as long as possible, hoping the Oldwood wouldn’t overtake me.

“We’ll go to the pickup first. Then the mines. They wouldn’t expect us this early anyway.”

That would also ensure we missed the miner’s shift change. I glanced up to evaluate the sun’s light, but the stubborn tangle of branches and the thick layer of leaves refused it access.

I didn’t know how I ever thought I could make it through the woods alone in my original plan. The trappings of this place never stopped reaching for me. With only a few steps, it felt like something called me—without words. I didn’t know where to look—didn’t know what it wanted.

Hart’s gaze was heavy on the back of my neck. He saw too much, but this was not something I could explain. His presence reassured me. If I strayed from the path again, he would be there. The Oldwood could try, but in a battle of wills to take me, it would lose against Hart.

I attempted to distract myself. “What’s in the bag?”

“Supplies.”

Could he be any more unhelpful? Something may have changed between us, but at least this was familiar.

“Do I need to know anything else about this … settlement?” I was unreasonably nervous. Whether it was due to the Oldwood or the illicit side trip before we ventured to the mines, I didn’t know.

“Just be yourself.”

He was giving me nothing to work with. “Will they know who that is?”

“Some will. Some won’t. For them, it’s more about others knowing of their existence and caring about their choice to live … outside. Who or what you are won’t be the focus.”

All too quickly, the Oldwood distracted me from my questions. I fought for each step I took as the forest’s magic threatened to pull me under.

The sound of Mother’s cries, searching for me through the trees, rang in my ears.

“No. ”

I spoke the word aloud, hoping that giving voice to it would push back whatever hold the forest had on me.

Hart was beside me now. His presence an anchor. “What do you … see in the Oldwood?”

His words were hesitant, which, at this moment, I appreciated.

There wasn’t any point in keeping this from him. He had already seen the impacts. “Not see. Hear.”

He cleared his throat. “What do you hear?”

I shook my head. “A voice calls to me. It has since I was a girl. I’m unsure if it’s even there or just some phantom magic of this place.”

Hart arched a brow.

“What?”

He chuckled. “Phantom magic?”

“Great, now you’re laughing at me too.”

“I’m just curious. You know, they say sometimes the Oldwood tells us what we need to hear.”

I glared at him. “Who says that?”

He shrugged. His teasing distracted me, but the Oldwood’s magic was still very much present. I hoped this settlement wasn’t too much farther.