Page 44 of Jeweler to the Blessed (Champions of Chaos #1)

He thought the price of his curse had already been paid. It will cost him more before the end.

— FROM CHAMPIONS OF KAVIOS

I wanted a minute to think about what just happened—about what I’d heard. The voice was gone as quickly as it had come. It was in the cavern, though. I knew it. I needed to get back.

What could be in there that had Gregory, and even Hart, so nervous?

The heat in the room made me think about Hart’s words in the workshop.

I had said the adamas couldn’t be melted.

The imperfection we’d found had to have been something else.

I no longer thought that was true as I wiped sweat from my brow.

Something, someone, was in there, who could make the room that hot. Childhood memories flooded my mind: games with Mother, a friend I knew existed but couldn’t get to, and the urge to dig beneath the Oldwood.

I stared at the door. Whoever was in there needed me. How did I get them out?

Gregory was already halfway up the path. He’d put as much distance between himself and the door as possible. “Let’s go.”

“You can’t get to him,” Hart’s voice was a whisper next to me.

Him . He knew someone was in there—someone who needed me to free him. Somehow, I wasn’t surprised that Hart knew it too.

I lifted my chin, staring up into his face. “He’s trapped.”

Hart didn’t shrink away from my defiance. “I’m well aware, Chaos. We’ll get him. Just not now.”

We’ll. Hart stayed true to his word even with my shifting priorities.

Or maybe he had heard the voice, too, and felt his own calling to save him.

I acknowledged that trying to rip the door from its hinges in front of the mine’s second-in-command wasn’t a great plan, but the voice left me desperate to save it.

“You heard him too?” I asked.

Hart shook his head.

“How do you know?”

He opened and closed his mouth. A hesitation I wasn’t used to from Hart. He always seemed so sure of himself. Whatever he wanted to say, he was struggling to find the words. Which meant I desperately wanted to hear them.

The ground started to shake before he spoke.

My gaze locked with Hart’s. Over his shoulder, Gregory scurried farther up the path.

A crack sounded, and panic struck Hart’s features before I understood its meaning. He was just out of arm’s reach .

The ground shook harder.

Hart was moving, lunging for me. A wall of stone and debris crumbled where I’d stood moments ago.

The tunnel path connecting us to Gregory—and the exit—collapsed.

I was on the cold ground, blinking, as I assessed my surroundings. The tunnel was dark. The only light on our side of the cave-in, a torch beside the locked door, had gone out with the movement. Dim light from the other side of the path streamed through the giant rock pieces now in our way.

An intriguing weight pressed against me as I heaved in deep breaths.

The back of my head hurt, even though it was cradled in something soft. Fingers flexed against my hair. I knew the rigid lines of his body better than I cared to admit. As I fully opened my eyes, Hart’s forest green gaze was boring into mine.

“Dammit, Charon,” he said.

The name was unfamiliar. Knowing Hart, it was another forgotten god he cursed.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

My body shook as my panic set in. An earthshake, a cave-in. We were trapped in the mine. My head throbbed, but Hart had saved me—once again.

“I’m good. You?”

While our chests were awkwardly pressed together, the rapid beat of my heart must have given me away because he laughed outright at my response.

“How’s your head?” His fingers moved carefully around my crown, likely checking for the thick dampness of blood.

“It’s alright. I think you stopped most of the damage.”

My senses were alive, cataloging every place our bodies connected. His arms were braced on either side of me, trying to hold himself apart. Our legs entwined, his knee separating mine. What was wrong with me? Now was not the time for this.

“Are you hurt?” I asked again.

His voice was low. “I’m fine.”

I wasn’t sure it was the cave-in affecting him.

With trouble, I tore my gaze from his and looked at the blockage over his shoulder. It must have broken whatever spell also held him in position. He rolled away and was silent as his breathing evened. Mine followed suit.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

At the same time, I said, “Thank you.”

He turned his head so he could look at me in the dim light.

“I’m sorry I tackled you. I didn’t see another choice.”

I laughed, and something in Hart’s expression shifted at the sound.

“I much prefer you lunging at me to being crushed under a pile of rocks.”

He grunted as he sat up.

“What do we do now?” I asked.

Standing, he offered a hand to help me up. It was almost second nature to accept. He pulled me toward him, and I went like a moth to flame.

He assessed the pile of rocks blocking our path. “We have to get out.”

Moving closer, he lifted one and tossed it aside. A few others shifted with the motion. It wasn’t an insurmountable task. Although the more he revealed, the larger some of the chunks of stone proved to be. Some would be too big to lift.

Hart didn’t seem deterred. He kept tossing rocks in an attempt to clear the path.

I stared at him, watching the activity until the obvious answer struck me. Hart…was Blessed. He could use magic-enhanced strength to break through the rocks quickly .

He glanced at me. His head tilted in question. “What?”

“You,” I said. “You can get us out, can’t you?”

I still didn’t know where he kept his adamas. My curiosity didn’t matter, though. It was hidden somewhere, even if the reason why he did so eluded me.

The line of his lips flattened. He looked toward the tunnel ceiling like he was ready to curse another set of gods. When his gaze returned to mine, he nodded slowly, like this was the last topic he’d expected.

I gestured toward the rocks. “Do you have enough anger stored to get us out of here?”

I’d never seen him take. Who knew what emotions he had stored for magic? I hoped he had some because I couldn’t offer to help him replenish. My stomach knotted as I considered the implications of my thoughts.

Hart had to have stolen anger. That’s what would fuel his magic to get us out of here. Stolen emotion. Like any other Blessed.

He surveyed me again, and I wondered if he saw what my mind had only just unlocked.

“You don’t like the Blessed,” he said. It was almost like he spoke to himself as he continued. “I knew it conceptually, but I didn’t understand it viscerally until that look you gave me in the alley. When you realized you’d be within my grasp when you passed.”

I distinctly remembered the way he had flinched then—like he’d been slapped with understanding.

My brow furrowed. Of course I didn’t like the Blessed. They took without remorse, thinking only of themselves, their vanity, and their power. Did Hart do that? I was sure I hadn’t looked at him like that in a long time. And I didn’t know how that made me feel.

I had always known Hart was Blessed—all guards were. Just because I hadn’t seen him take didn’t mean it didn’t happen.

I thought of Alysa and her people—their stolen adamas and how she said they used it. Maybe Hart had similar rules? His looks guaranteed he wouldn’t have difficulty finding willing partners.

But that wasn’t right either . Serena had said at the Cornucopia that he didn’t take from any of those who offered themselves. Her words had given me a perverse pleasure at the time. Now, I needed to understand: How did he take if it wasn’t from those willing at Forest’s Edge?

“Do you have the magic?” I asked again.

He let the hesitation show on his face. “I have the magic, Chaos.”

Alaric had taught me never to shy away from tough questions. I voiced the one I didn’t want to ask. “Where did you get it? Was the participant willing?”

His lips pressed together. The hesitation wasn’t ideal.

“Talk to me.”

I’d say it was guilt that lined his features, but I couldn’t tell if I was only seeing what I wanted to see. Alysa had thought he’d accepted the gem but didn’t use it. His response indicated he did, and I might not want to know the details.

Hart’s brow furrowed. “I’m not a good man, Chaos. I’ve done plenty I regret and even more that I don’t.”

I wasn’t sure how we’d ended up having this conversation trapped in the mines, but there we were. “That’s not an answer. You could only take from those willing.”

“I can’t provide the reassurance you seek. If you’re in danger, I won’t care. I’ll take anything to protect you. The only comfort I can offer is, you’re safe with me.”

It sounded like a vow, one I wasn’t sure I understood .

He’d made the choice and accepted the power of the Blessed. Once he had it, it made sense he’d use it.

“If it’s to protect me, you should take from me?—”

I shook my head. My words were foolish—I asked for the impossible. My immunity meant someone else was paying the price of my protection. Scarier still, I wasn’t sure this changed how I felt about Hart.

How I felt about Hart wasn’t something I wanted to examine at this precise moment. I shoved that thought down and focused on something more tactical. “Use the magic.”

He nodded and turned to the pile of rubble that blocked us from the way out.

Many of the rocks were too large for me to lift, but I tossed aside a few to feel like I was doing something productive. Hart didn’t need it. He moved the rest like they were nothing more than pebbles.

The largest ones, he hit. His powerful swings broke through them in moments. I couldn’t help but search for the glow of red somewhere, anywhere, on his person—a needed distraction from the sour taste of confusion.

Instead, I found myself sketching the outline of his well-muscled body in my mind. I bit my lip as he effortlessly lifted a boulder almost my size. Was I so distracted by a pretty face?

He wasn’t just a pretty face. Hart was a culmination of unimaginable choices. If Alysa worked outside the system, Hart worked within it. There were costs to doing so. Watching Hart break us free of the cave-in brought those choices to the forefront.

Gregory was gone when we broke through enough to see the path—probably to find Tamara to free us.

A few more swings and Hart finished. He turned to look at me, and a wary caution crossed his face. The space he cleared was large enough for us to escape. He gestured for me to crawl through the opening and took a few steps back, allowing the distance between himself and the opening to span.

He was giving me space again, like the first time he’d found me in an alley. That small knot in my stomach twisted like a dagger, already inserted and turned for additional pain.

He was Blessed. He’d made choices I didn’t understand. But he used his position in Kavios to do what he could for others. How many people at Alysa’s settlement were there because of him? Would Alaric have known of youngleaf without Hart?

I couldn’t tell him it was alright. Our gazes locked as I approached, stepping into his space. I took his hand, gently squeezing it. I hoped the action said what I couldn’t—that I might not like the Blessed, but I knew he was not the same as them.