Page 51 of Jeweler to the Blessed (Champions of Chaos #1)

I worry she closed off too much and buried everything too deep. She needs safety and security to feel freely.

— ALARIC SARE’S LETTERS TO ISABELLE ARKOVA

U nsettled was the best way I could describe myself that night. Hart didn’t say another word about magic or our plans. It was better that he didn’t. I needed time to think.

I was supposed to be immune to their magic—that was all. That was my … condition. Well, that and my connection to the stones. And … I guess the connection to the captive in the mines. I sighed as the evidence, even in my own mind, stacked against me. I wasn’t supposed to have magic.

Arguing further with Hart would be nowhere near as convincing as arguing with myself, which I did—the entire evening.

The sun rose too quickly. I was no closer to certainty, but I couldn’t disregard the points that he’d made. I’d done things when I felt strongly that didn’t make sense.

Could I really be Chaos’s Champion?

Hart looked me up and down when he greeted me the following day and ushered me to the workshop to finish the rings. He was a quiet presence while I worked, settling into one of the wingback chairs, a book open in his lap. The chair remained between me and the front door.

I gave up on my internal argument and focused on the Masquerade that evening. “We’ll stick with the original plan. We’ll just have to start later than anticipated.”

Hart looked up, setting down Alaric’s copy of Champions of Kavios .

I glared daggers at the book. It had always bothered me that so much was said about the Cursed King, and there was next to no clear information about Chaos’s Champion.

If what he’d said the other day was true—if this was the only copy in existence, and the seer was someone close to Alaric—I needed to talk to Mother.

She would have to know. Whether she could access the information when I asked for it was another question.

If Hart’s assumptions about me were true—if I was Chaos’s Champion—it changed nothing about tonight. I couldn’t begin to untangle the implications for my future, but that was another matter. We would stick to our plan to save the captive. Then, I would try to talk to Mother after that.

“Is it everything you thought it would be?” I pointed at the book he’d waited so long to get his hands on.

It hadn’t crossed my mind until now that I might wonder why Alaric didn’t let him read it. Alaric had always shared his books so freely with me.

He set the book on the table. “It’s infuriating and devastating.”

“Hence its appeal.” I stared at the book a beat longer.

How could Alaric have kept so much from me? It was no easy task to re-read everything in a book I’d studied almost daily, to study it through a new lens, one that I thought I should have had from the start.

“Did Alaric ever talk about me?” I wasn’t sure what answer I wanted, but Hart and Alaric were friends.

It looked like it pained Hart to respond. “No, he didn’t talk about you or your abilities. I knew his sister was sick. He mentioned his niece trained with him to take over the quartz shop in Woodside, but?—”

“He talked about me like I was normal.” Hart had said as much before. I didn’t know why that bothered me. It was to protect me, after all.

Hart’s fist clenched. “You are magnificent. He knew that. It’s why he did everything he did to protect you. To give you the best chance.”

I swallowed. “The best chance against the Cursed King?”

He laughed. “The Cursed King has had over two hundred years to take the throne. I assure you, he is not a threat.”

Hart had said he knew him. He said the Cursed King wasn’t dangerous to me as Jeweler to the Blessed.

Now, he reinforced it when he called me Eris’s Champion.

I wanted desperately to believe him. We’d need to discuss it more if I sought to change things before the Blessing.

I was getting ahead of myself. First, we needed to get through tonight.

Hart’s face sobered as if sensing where my thoughts had turned. “You want to venture into the Oldwood after the Masquerade? ”

I nodded. “We need to free him before the Blessing. This is our best chance.”

I had considered going last night, but with the attack on myself and the prince, the Oldwood would have been filled with soldiers until sunrise.

Hart stood. “You lead, I’ll follow.”

Something in me warmed. If I believed, as he did, that I was Eris’s Champion, it might be the third option I had been looking for. If I could harness the magic of a goddess, maybe I wouldn’t have to deliver the adamas, and also, I wouldn’t have to run.

Maybe I could free the city from King Rodric Glanmore’s adamas-fueled grip.

Hart returned me to my room to wash and dress. He sent one of the sentries to find him a mask for the ball, taking their place outside my door while I readied.

Penelope was waiting for me. She had a box with a familiar stamp on it, one that only took me moments to place.

“You got me a dress from the modiste?”

“Prince Elias did. He insisted you required a proper garment.”

This whole thing made me uncomfortable. I couldn’t remember if Alaric had ever been required to attend the Masquerade. It was irrelevant, I was sure, but why did the prince want me there? If what Hart and I had discussed was true, I was in even more danger with the Glanmores.

One of the clearest pieces of information from Champions of Kavios was that Themis’s Champion was a Glanmore.

Three generations of the family had founded the city—and its mines— together.

With the power of the adamas, and its eternal youth, it wasn’t entirely clear which generation the Cursed King was a part of.

As far as I knew, neither Rodric nor Elias had nightmare magic.

The most agreed-upon theory was that Elias had a brother.

Whoever he was, we all knew he was cursed. Although, no one agreed upon the details of that curse. Why hadn’t he taken the throne and ended any potential fight between Chaos and Order’s champions for Kavios?

If I were Chaos’s Champion, and the Cursed King was at the founding of Kavios, then Hart was right. The Cursed King would have had two hundred years to take the throne uncontested.

What kind of curse would stop him?

Penelope pulled the dress from its box, and I held my breath. All thoughts about the Cursed King paused as I worried about whether the prince’s tastes would match mine. The women in the castle appeared to enjoy lower cuts and more exposed skin than I cared to display.

There’d be no time to fight whatever had been chosen. Penelope held it proudly for my review. The dark green reminded me of the exact shade of Hart’s eyes. I shook the thought away, examining the long, flowing sleeves. At least my arms would be covered.

The upper back of the dress was made of sheer material with a high lace collar. It protected my neck, and while the gossamer showed off my skin, it didn’t expose it to touch. If I looked at it only from behind, it would be perfect.

Then Penelope turned the dress.

The front dipped low. It would show a daring amount of skin between my breasts.

I sighed. At least this was the front of the dress. I had a chance to defend myself if someone reached for my chest. It was the best I could hope for. There was no point in arguing. Penelope couldn’t change it anyway.

She brought in hot water to wash and, after I was clean, helped me into the dress. I was uncomfortable with how well it fit, clinging to every curve.

With the dress in place, Penelope braided my golden hair into a crown around my head. Then, she came at me with a stick of kohl.

I stepped back. “What are you doing?”

She glanced down at the stick, which looked like a thick writing instrument. “Lining your eyes.”

“Do you mind wearing … gloves?” I asked.

Rationally, I knew she wasn’t Blessed, but I still didn’t like a stranger’s exposed skin so close to my own. The thought alerted me to how quickly I’d stopped worrying about it with Hart once I’d finally told him the truth.

Penelope smiled sadly like she understood—she probably did. I gestured to a pair of mine lying on the table. Once she pulled them on, she was right back in my face with the dark crayon. I blinked rapidly as she pressed forward. I’d never had such attention.

“It’ll go faster if you don’t flinch as much,” she said gently.

Oh, how I wished that was within my control. “Sorry.”

There was no fixing this behavior. As Hart had said, the necessary actions I’d taken to protect myself had made me who I was. It wouldn’t change overnight.

When her work was finished, Penelope stepped back and smiled. “There. You look lovely.”

She picked up a matching mask from the box. It tied with a black satin ribbon around my head.

I stood. “Thank you. ”

A looking glass was propped in the corner of the room by the wardrobe.

Hesitantly, I stepped before it. As I did, Penelope offered matching slippers for my feet.

They were much thinner than my usual leather boots, but the delicate material matched the elegance of the evening. And I did look elegant.

With a final nod to me in the mirror, Penelope left. The hairstyle she’d chosen highlighted my slim neck. The dress’s dip guided my eye to more skin than I had ever shown in public. Those arriving to seek the raptures of a Blessed’s touch would wear much less, but still, I hesitated.

Nothing about this made me comfortable—but tonight wasn’t about being comfortable. It was about getting through the evening and getting to the mines. The sooner I arrived at the Masquerade, the sooner we could leave.

Hart entered, a dark gray mask covering his face like his helmet usually did for formal occasions. He held himself apart as he glimpsed the front of the dress in the mirror’s reflection. His pupils dilated, making his hooded gaze darker, demanding.

“Do you want to wear that?” It seemed to take some effort for him to get the words out.

I’d be offended by the question if I didn’t know why he was asking. He knew my preferences better than most. Our proximity over the last few days had made him more than aware.

My silence must have made him realize how his words sounded. “You’re perfect,” he continued, nervous energy seemed to fuel his words. “Absolutely beautiful. I just …”

“I know,” I said. “It’s fine.”

He looked like he’d argue further, but we had more pressing matters to take care of tonight.

I slipped on black gloves to match the mask and dress’s lacing. “We might as well get this over with.”

He offered me his arm. “I’ll never get over this. ”

I couldn’t help how my chest fluttered. I told myself it was just nerves. We had a big night. We’d make an appearance at the Masquerade, ensure the prince saw me, and then we’d trek to the mines. If everything went according to plan, we’d free the captive tonight.