Page 60 of Jeweler to the Blessed (Champions of Chaos #1)

I may not have protected her from much, but at least I saved her from Rodric.

— ALARIC SARE’S LETTERS TO ISABELLE ARKOVA

T he dress Prince Elias had made was even more beautiful than the last. It was white, as was traditional for those to be Blessed.

Penelope helped me into the gown. This one was much more conservative, and I couldn’t help but be thankful for the coverage.

The flowing silk was artfully decorated with lace.

It had a high neckline and long sleeves.

It was beautiful, but I wished it was for literally any other event.

I knew this Blessing was in name only. It was a performance for the Glanmores. I didn’t have to take, I didn’t have to act like any other Blessed once it was done, but I had to let Rodric think he’d won.

I could do this.

Hart was in a formal uniform, with a helmet covering his features as he guided me to the ceremony.

The throne room looked even more beautiful than it had for the Masquerade.

Stained glass windows framed the throne on the dais, the sun’s setting rays lighting up their colors.

The white marble floor was set with chairs.

They were grouped into two sets on the left and right, creating an aisle in the center.

Before we separated, I sought Hart’s gaze, but his helmet deprived me. My jaw clenched in frustration. My fingers stretched to reach for him. I shook my head. This was how it had to be right now. He was my guard, and I was Jeweler to the Blessed, about to join him as one of them.

He went to the right side of the aisle where he would have the best view of any approaching the dais. I took my position on the stage.

The other Selected were already there. Their finery was pristine.

Like mine, the jackets and dresses were even more extravagant than what they had worn to the ball.

I watched Deidre fidget, last in line in the row of Selected.

I hadn’t spoken to her since the Presentation, but she looked like she might be having second thoughts.

Elias greeted me with a familiarity I despised.

He took my gloved hand and pressed a kiss to my knuckles.

Vaddon hovered just beyond his shoulder, looking disappointed by my every breath.

Soren’s words last night returned to my mind.

I did. Until that advisor came in with a better proposition. Given that, I guessed he probably was.

I needed to find out why he wanted me dead so badly.

Then, King Rodric entered, and all rose. My worries about Vaddon could wait. The gem around Rodric’s neck was glowing blue before he even started speaking. I wondered why he bothered. Were people still scared of the Cursed King? They hadn’t seen his power since the Selection.

Hart and I still needed to finish our conversation about him. It, too, had fallen aside in the wake of his injuries and my decisions.

Mostly, the Cursed King confused me. What had Hart said?

He needed Chaos to use his magic? I don’t think he’d finished explaining the curse before Soren attacked.

If he were a Glanmore, did he need magic to take the throne?

Even if he were upset about his summoning, it had been hundreds of years.

Why not claim the city for Themis and render me, Chaos’s Champion, useless?

“Blessed, Selected.” King Rodric’s booming voice pulled my attention.

“Welcome to this year’s Blessing ceremony.

I need not impress on you the importance of today or others like it.

This Selection cycle has been trying on all of us.

There are those within the city who would push for chaos within its walls. ”

Hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Goosebumps pebbled my flesh. He was coming dangerously close to referencing the goddess he had banned.

“But we stand firm—we stand for Order.”

My glance slid to Elias, who stood with shoulders back and arms folded behind his back like nothing could bother him. What worried me the most was the curve of Vaddon’s lip—a cat with a canary already in its mouth.

“I don’t think I have to tell you my Blessing isn’t just a boon. It’s a necessity. The people of Kavios need us. They need our magic to keep the city running smoothly. Some would see that interrupted, as we saw at the Selection Festival.”

Someone in the crowd gasped. I expected the king’s calming at the Cornucopia had worked too well—the Blessed had forgotten the prince’s remarks about the Cursed King. They treated today as if a dirty little secret were being dragged forth in polite company.

“Today, we celebrate another jab at the so-called Feared. We celebrate elevating more of our own. Those to whom we give the sacred responsibility of keeping order in Kavios.”

The crowd, once riled to the point of snapping, now seemed serene. It didn’t take long to realize that the king pressed harder with his magic. The blue glow on the amulet shone brighter as his calming power filled the room.

It took every ounce of control not to look at Hart. What was Rodric saying? Why mention the Feared?

“We thank you for what you do for us, and today is about you—your reward for caring for the city we so love.”

The blue of his adamas faltered, fading to the clear stone I was so familiar with. Was he actually … out of stored sadness? Given the amount of calm he wielded, I assumed he had dozens of citizens to take from. I didn’t want to dwell on what he did to draw out the sadness.

Rodric gestured to someone at the back door. “We will begin the ceremony with the Selected showing their dedication to Kavios.”

Ice shot down my spine. I couldn’t claim to be all that familiar with the Blessing Ceremony, so I was unaware of how we’d be made to show our dedication to the city.

The double doors opened on creaking joints, and city guards escorted a parade of men and women up the aisle. Amidst the half-dozen who came toward the dais, one face stood out: Macen. None of them had visible adamas, and given Macen’s presence, I had to assume they must be rebels.

“These Feared were found preparing to ambush the Blessing Ceremony. We are tired of their attempts to bring chaos to our city. We’ll show them what we do to traitors.”

I stared straight ahead, though I could feel Hart’s gaze on my skin like it was his touch. It seared. I knew he’d already put together what I was only now realizing. I swallowed thickly, saliva pooling on my tongue.

They couldn’t be asking me to do this.

This wasn’t what I’d signed up for.

“The Selected will take from these rebels as a testament to the city they love. They will fill themselves and their adamas to the point of bursting.”

My heart was beating so hard I thought it would break free of my chest. Fill to the point of bursting. He wanted us to kill them. To drain them to the point of death to fill the stores of our gems.

There were just enough rebels, one for each of us.

“I know this will be hard. It’s not our way to drain to excess,” the king continued, confirming my horrifying realization. “I ask you, the Selected, to bear the weight of this burden, to push the city forward.”

The Blessed were monsters, but most weren’t ruthless killers.

There was a difference between taking without seeing the impact of your selfishness and taking to the point of murder.

The king asked for the latter. He knew what this would do to these people.

I suspected he did it for a reason. It was unclear to me what it was.

The Selected would do this. No one among them would want to lose the chance to become Blessed, but it was clear from their shifting glances that they would feel deeply about murder.

I was going to vomit.

This wasn’t what I’d signed up for. This path had been viable because it was in name only. I counted again: five rebels. One of the Feared … was for me to kill.

There was a faltered step from the line of guards on the right. I couldn’t look. I knew it was Hart—knew he would struggle to hold his place with this revelation. There was nothing he could do without interrupting the ceremony.

What would I do?

They still had Alaric.

“Wil,” the king called the first Selected. My body moved on instinct as I handed him his adamas gem.

Rodric gestured to the foot of the dais. “Go, with my Blessing, to bring Order to this city.”

The guards pushed one of the Feared forward. The young man fell to his knees. He looked the same age as Macen. His light brown hair fell over his eyes as he peeked at the newly Blessed.

Wil, for his part, didn’t hesitate. He required no instruction on how to use the adamas. He needed no urging to take the man’s life. Without prompting, his hand reached for the man’s neck. He pressed his hand down hard and took.

If Wil were a different Blessed, I was sure the ring would have glowed purple.

Fear was plain on the rebel’s face, but so was his rage.

Wil’s adamas flashed red as he collected from the man.

And the anger didn’t abate quickly. It ran deep.

The man looked young but must have known significant loss to have joined the Feared carrying so much hate.

The fire in his eyes didn’t dim until they closed.

His lifeless form fell onto the dais steps.

The other children of the Blessed were much the same. Caitlyn may not have looked at the woman she took from, but she did it all the same—the bodies stacked at the bottom of the dais. Of the original Selected, only Deidre remained.

Her moves were stilted as she collected her adamas from me and received a Blessing from the king. Whatever her decision, it was clearly not made.

“Is complete draining necessary?” Her words were soft. I wasn’t sure I’d heard them correctly. The king’s answering smile said I had.

“It’s necessary.”

She looked at the man on his knees.

“This is not a negotiation. These are traitors to the crown. We must unite and show strength.”

Deidre nodded, I thought to herself more than to the rest of us.

She knelt, the tips of her fingers grazing the man’s wrist. Her ring started to flash blue.

Sadness? This one must be a gentler soul.

The other Feared had shown only anger—the Blessed in the room, who could see the gem’s light, started murmuring.

Her body shifted as the process continued, and I could glimpse the game she was playing. The ring was not yet over her knuckle. She placed it on the tip of her finger so that when she touched the Feared, he could just as easily wield it as she could.

He was draining her.

Her knees buckled before anyone else realized what she’d done.

“Stop him,” Vaddon said, but I knew it was too late.

Deidre entirely collapsed, rolling to the foot of the dais. The man stood, focused on King Rodric, and the gem’s flashing blue turned to an aquamarine glow.

The king’s eyes went glassy as the man stormed up the dais, escaping the guards at the base.

He wouldn’t be able to control them all like Rodric.

He focused his energy on the king, his mouth moving, but I couldn’t hear the words.

I was sure he tried to calm the king into stopping the ceremony. He didn’t stand a chance.

As the Feared scaled the steps, one of the guards threw a dagger, its blade pierced the man’s back. He fell forward against the stairs without so much as lifting his hands to protect his face. The point must have pierced his heart. The guard collected the body, dragging it back toward the rest.

“What a waste,” Rodric said as he freed himself from the tentative hold of the gem’s magic. He looked at the Feared and Deidre with distaste.

The crowd didn’t seem to know what to think. They were restless and unsure. Deidre was meant to be the celebration of the magicless citizens. The story of hope that kept them happy and complacent until the next Selection—the story that anyone could be Blessed.

Instead, she lay at the foot of the dais, cold and forgotten by the king.

“We have one more surprise. You’ve been so patient.” Rodric spoke to the crowd. “One who has distinguished herself with service to the crown. She has stepped into a critical position to keep our celebration on track. Emberline Arkova, Jeweler to the Blessed, and the final Selected.”