Page 50 of Jeweler to the Blessed (Champions of Chaos #1)

“The Feared will stop at nothing,” Vaddon said.

He looked strangely unrumpled comparatively. The prince nodded.

“If that was the Feared, where was their king?” I asked.

I could already tell by the way Hart searched the bodies that he didn’t recognize any of them.

In the same way, he hadn’t recognized those who lay in wait outside Alaric’s workshop.

I couldn’t precisely tell Elias and Vaddon that Hart was known to work with the Feared and didn’t recognize these men and women, but I’d at least make them think twice about their assumptions.

The prince tilted his head. “What are you saying, Emberline? We know the Feared want to take you—to stop the sourcing of adamas.”

Hart kicked over a body with his foot. “The Cursed King would have made this attack a lot easier. If he’s proven to work with the Feared, why wouldn’t he be here?”

Vaddon sneered. “Who else would they be?”

“I’m not sure. But it seems like something to look into. I’d bet a lot of coin that whoever they were, they were the same group that attacked Emberline outside Alaric’s workshop.”

I shivered at the use of my full name. I knew the words showed distance between us before Vaddon and the prince, but I didn’t care for it. Maybe Chaos was growing on me.

“We’ll look into it,” the prince said. “Good work … Hart, was it?” Hart nodded, and the prince returned his attention to me. “You’re sure you’re alright?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

It was mostly a lie, but what else could I say? Hart had just called me the Cursed King. We needed to discuss that more than I needed to reassure the prince after his stupidity.

The captive’s statement flared to life in my head. He’d said, “This Presentation is a mockery of what you are.”

Who was I? Was Hart right?

Prince Elias was still speaking, not noticing my world collapsing behind a face void of emotions. “Good. I wouldn’t want anything to stand in the way of you enjoying the Masquerade.”

His comment brought me up short. “The … Masquerade?” My question was inappropriate, given the bodies littering the ground around us. But I didn’t understand. “I didn’t think I was needed for the …”

The prince waved his hand. “Nonsense, Emberline. Of course you’ll join me at the Masquerade. I wouldn’t hear otherwise. ”

I dipped my chin.

“We should get you back to the city,” Hart murmured. “The sun sets.”

“Of course,” the prince said. “I’m sure we should follow.”

He glanced at the guards over his shoulder. “Go ahead. We’ll be right behind you.”

I swallowed down my objections about the Masquerade. There was nothing I could do about it now. We’d revise our plan accordingly. Hart guided us to the trickle of folk returning to the city. The Presentation had extracted a heavy price. I shuddered to think what King Rodric would do about it.

I wasn’t sure where it was safe to talk. Hart kept close until we were in the city, and as we passed Alaric’s workshop, I shoved Hart toward it. He grunted and changed course, watching my back while I unlocked the door, ushered him in, and locked it securely behind us.

“What do you mean that was me?” I hissed.

He removed his helmet, set it on the counter, and folded his arms over his chest. “Exactly what I said.”

My head was shaking in denial before he finished the sentence.

“Ember.” The name absent the flirtatious tone of the nickname he usually preferred. “Think about it. What did you feel?”

I felt too much. I didn’t want to think about it. “It was nothing.”

He dipped his head, forcing me to meet his gaze, even as I tried to look away. “Do you ever think that maybe you avoid too much? ”

I snapped. “Have you ever considered what it’s like to walk this city’s streets without magic?”

He raised his hands in surrender. “I’m not saying you did anything wrong, Chaos.

” The honeyed warmth in his tone soothed my anger.

“It’s worth considering the repercussions of actions this city made necessary.

When you express emotions, they take. Understandably, you learned to hide them, but that doesn’t mean you don’t feel them.

” The workshop door was locked. No one could get in, but Hart didn’t seem to be taking any chances with his following words.

He leaned in so close I could feel his breath on my ear as he spoke.

“You said the gem’s magic doesn’t affect you. ”

I shivered at his proximity even as I nodded.

I wanted to flee, to be anywhere but here, talking about the way I dealt with emotions. At the same time, I didn’t want to move as his warm breath promised a safety I wasn’t guaranteed elsewhere.

He continued. “Now, why would that be? I only know of two people in this city that would create magic as you do—that would not succumb to what’s clearly a bastardization of the real thing.”

“I’m not the Cursed King,” I said with a lot of conviction I didn’t truly have.

Hart glared at me, unamused. He had told me a story another time we were in this same room together. A story not about Themis’s Champion, but about Eris’s: a champion chosen not to spite her sister but to defy the order she imposed. Hart had said she would challenge what’s known .

I shook my head, unable to voice the question. I thought he saw it in my face anyway.

That smirk curled his lip. “I told you that story could mean whatever you wanted it to.”

“I don’t have magic. ”

Maybe if I said it enough times, it would hold.

His green eyes danced with something merciless, and I knew I’d hate his following words.

“Your magic is fueled by emotion, Chaos. Emotion you rarely allow yourself to express. Tell me there haven’t been times other than today when you’ve done something that didn’t make sense.

Something impossible. What did you feel? ”

The bastard. He had an event in mind. He was goading me toward it.

The night of the Selection Festival, I’d raged at my circumstance.

I’d been so angry that I hadn’t stopped to consider how I’d pushed Mother’s chair, with Father in it, for fifteen blocks.

It shouldn’t have been possible—and he’d known it.

I glared. It had happened again when the group attacked me outside of Alaric’s workshop. He’d been there for that as well. The man then fell before me as fear built within me, so similar to what happened today—except this time, my fear wasn’t for me.

His smirk crept impossibly higher, dimpling his cheek.

“And what? My fear of the attackers granted me the power of nightmare magic?” I asked, playing into his theory.

His smirk broke into a full-on grin, and I knew I’d misstepped. “No, Chaos. If I’m not mistaken, the emotion slipped out today when you were scared for me, not yourself.”

I glanced at the bleeding cut on his arm. The screams had unleashed right after it occurred. Still, he couldn’t know that. I didn’t grant him the satisfaction of asking about his assumption. He tracked my gaze, looking more than confident in his assessment.

I met his outrageous implication with a rational question. “Why wouldn’t Alaric have said something?”

No one studied Eris more than Alaric. He would have known .

Maybe he had known. And he didn’t tell me.

Alaric doesn’t have friends. He has projects. I hated that Father’s words were there, waiting to be weaponized. The ones I wielded against myself were always the most dangerous.

Hart pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know what Alaric was doing. He didn’t trust me with the information.”

“Why?”

“Ah, Chaos, that’s what I’ve been asking myself every day since he’s been gone.”

“You haven’t come up with any answers?” I asked.

He held my gaze. “I have my suspicions. But I’ve been striving to prove them wrong.”

The words sank below my skin in a way that felt familiar.

“If you think I’m … that … what’s your role in all of this?”

His gaze held a little disappointment as he spoke. He stepped toward me again. “I thought I’d made that clear, Chaos. I’m here for you.”

Something in my chest fluttered, and I pushed it down. It occurred to me that I was doing exactly what he accused me of, but this was too much.

I couldn’t feel this. I couldn’t be this.

“We should get back to the castle.”

Hart gave me a final assessing gaze before following me from the workshop.