Page 42 of Jeweler to the Blessed (Champions of Chaos #1)

I fear the connection you predicted. But I also fear they’ll need it. It’s the only way to unleash them both.

— ALARIC SARE’S LETTERS TO ISABELLE ARKOVA

H art and I left The Storm and walked in silence to the path. As we returned to the Oldwood, its presence made itself known.

“Well?”

It probably wasn’t the first time he’d asked me something. I turned toward him as he towered over me. “I don’t know.”

I tried to focus. He was asking about the settlement. What had happened with Alysa. Her offer was … perfect. The fact that Hart knew it would be co nfused me. How long had he planned to take me there? Why had Alaric never done the same?

Hart arched a brow. “Did she ask you to join them?”

I rubbed my temples as if to ward off the delirium sinking in. “If you know, why are you asking? Why did we even pretend to leave you out of the conversation?”

I wanted to return to not trusting Hart so that I could think the whole thing was a setup. But I knew it for the lie it was.

“Are you upset?” he asked. “I thought you’d be happy to know such a place existed.”

I didn’t know how to explain. I was out of practice at explaining the complexities of emotions. “I am. It’s exactly what I needed. I just …”

He stepped closer. “What is it, Chaos?”

I shook free of the magic’s hold. “How did you know I wanted that option?”

Hart’s lip tilted into a smile. “I’m not sure it’s that option you do want. My job is to make sure you know you have many.”

That might be worse. I compared Hart and Alysa’s choices. They both had the same gruff exterior but had taken opposite paths to deal with the mess that was Kavios. She worked outside the system. Hart had chosen to work against it from the inside.

“Why do you work against the Blessed?” I asked.

He canted his head. “You think it impossible to work against my own supposed interest?”

“Your words. Not mine,” I said. “I’m just trying to understand.”

“Is it so hard to imagine that I don’t believe a third of the population’s comfort should come at the cost of the rest?”

Well, when he put it that way …

“As I said yesterday, it doesn’t take an impeccable moral compass to know what Rodric does is wrong. The use of his calm like a drug for the masses is bad enough. Everyone deserves to make the choice about where they want to live and why.”

He sounded so rational when he said it like it was the easiest decision he’d ever made. Not the most dangerous.

On the walk out here, I thought I’d already put all my trust in Hart, but with the Oldwood’s magic pressing down on me, I knew there was something more I must do.

I hadn’t truly let it overtake me since that day with my Mother.

The experience had scared her, scared Alaric, and I hadn’t thought to try it again.

I fought to free another question from my lips as the Oldwood’s magic surrounded me. “What you said about the magic here. Was it true?”

He didn’t hesitate with my meandering topics. It’s like he was aware of my current internal struggle.

“I don’t know. Some say the forest is sentient. I don’t think that’s true.”

His voice centered me and would keep me from venturing where he could not follow.

Leaves rustled, and his pace quickened as he closed the distance between us—his mouth now inches from my ear. “I like to think what I told you is true. It’s magic balances what Rodric has done. It tells us what we need to hear, away from the calming influence.”

I could feel the smirk curl his lip as he said his next words. My senses were alive not to the Oldwood but to him.

“What is it telling you, Chaos?” A pause. “Are you ready to hear it?”

That couldn’t be true, could it? I had no reason for my reaction to the Oldwood, the same way I had no reason for my immunity to the Blessed’s magic.

Hart baited me like Alaric did. Like he knew I’d have to test what he offered.

If I wanted to … explore his taunt, I acknowledged there was no safer time than with Hart at my side.

I could trust Hart with this too.

As if seeing the set of a decision in my features, Hart held my gaze and nodded.

I closed my eyes and listened. What was it trying to tell me? Or what did I need to hear?

My thoughts spun as I stopped fighting the Oldwood’s magic. Memories of Mother’s cries as she searched for me mixed with the desperate need to sink my fingers into the soil—to unearth what was below.

Letting myself succumb to the forest’s hold, it was different than the press of the Blessed’s magic against my neck. This was a bone-deep desire to be below. Clawing, digging, searching, endlessly searching. Something was here, and it was mine.

“ Emberline. ”

Whatever it was, it called to me. Scenes blurred in my mind. Stories of magical beasts and magnificent terror.

The voice called again. “ Only you can free me. ”

It was ancient. It was magnificent. It was … trapped.

My eyes shot open. I was unsurprised to find myself off the path, hands covered in soil, as I’d reached deep into the dirt. I searched the brush and bushes. The forest growth was so dense that I couldn’t see the path.

Hart leaned against a tree. His gaze was so intense, I wondered if he’d experienced everything I just had. I knew he hadn’t. That smirk curled his lip as he pushed off the trunk, realizing I was … back from wherever I’d been.

Someone needed me to free them.

Hart stepped forward cautiously, leaning down to return my gloves. I must have torn them off in my attempt to feel the ground. Wiping my hands together, I brushed what dirt I could from them.

What did this mean? I slipped the gloves on, covering the evidence of my undoing. Hart reached for me, and I stared at his open palm. There was little risk. My hand was gloved again. He knew my secret. The action seemed so small, but to me, it represented how everything between us had shifted.

This trust between us grew, and I craved more. I was sick of denying my gut reaction. It was too late anyway. There was no taking back the information I’d shared or what he’d shown me today with The Storm.

I knew I stared too long at his outstretched hand, but Hart didn’t rush me.

He had decided he could do the most for this city from his position of power, no matter how he’d come about it. Could I do the same? Could I use my position as Jeweler to the Blessed to help this … captive?

I couldn’t say why, but I knew this was important. I had a list of other things to worry about: the Blessing Ceremony, my parents, and my future.

What had Hart said? This was what I needed to hear.

My gloved hand slipped into his.

The flimsy barrier between us wasn’t enough. His touch scalded. A stark contrast to the Oldwood’s chilled depths. It burned past my hesitations as he pulled me up.

“What’s the verdict, Chaos?”

I couldn’t begin to determine the layers of his question. “Someone needs me. I just have to find out who.”

He gave me a brief once-over. “Determination suits you.”

It should worry me how right his words felt. A man I had met only days ago saw whatever spark this brief sojourn had ignited.

I had a plan before all this started—a plan to protect my family and to learn about myself.

Only an hour ago, I thought I’d found a safe place to run.

My plan continued to evolve. I’d fit everything I could into the time before the Blessing Ceremony.

That was days away. I still had time to fix things—time to figure out who was trapped, who called to me.

Alysa’s offer was still a safety net.

That smirk crept into place on Hart’s stupidly handsome face, and he quickly turned us toward the Oldwood Trail, leaving me to wonder if this, too, was what he had wanted me to learn on today’s journey.

Tamara greeted us at the entrance and led us into the mines.

As we descended, I let my hand drift along the tunnel wall again, curious if I could still feel the Oldwood’s magic.

The way I dug into the ground when the magic overpowered me, I was beginning to believe the magic came from somewhere in the mines.

Maybe whoever I searched for—dug for—was here. Maybe the adamas itself called to me.

The voice was absent as we trekked down to the locked door. No pile of gems to sort sat outside the door today. We were going in.

Tamara held a cloth long enough to wrap around my eyes. “King Rodric requires anyone but Gregory and me to wear this when they enter. Use it as a blindfold. Gregory will also be with you. He’ll report if you take it off.”

The threat was clear, but she only had one piece of cloth.

Hart noticed too. “I’m going with her.”

“Absolutely not,” Tamara said.

“I’m sorry you thought that was a question,” he said. “It wasn’t.”

Tamara straightened her spine. “Prince Elias?— ”

“Has tasked me with keeping her safe. I cannot do so when she’s blindfolded and behind a locked door.”

The foreman appeared to consider her options: further delay while she dealt with this or let him through. He had a point about the prince’s expectations. Tamara must have agreed because she gritted her teeth and pulled another cloth from her pocket.

My feet were already moving of their own accord.

Similar to the pull of the Oldwood, something beyond that door called to me.

I was sure it was the adamas—or whatever made the adamas.

My ability to identify it when cut must mean the pull to the raw, unmined material was strong.

I nearly bounced in excitement. No matter the rest of the day’s learnings and decisions yet to be made, one of the mysteries that most fascinated me might be unveiled shortly.

I handed the blindfold to Hart to secure. “What do I do?”

He didn’t secure it yet, while Tamara provided instructions.

“Behind the door is a cavern. You’ll be identifying the new workspace. Move around the outside wall until you feel the presence of adamas. Point it out to Gregory, and he’ll note it for the next crew.”

Gregory looked white as a sheet. Was he trembling? He did not look happy with his assignment.