Page 61 of Jeweler to the Blessed (Champions of Chaos #1)

She may be his curse, but she will have his heart.

— FROM CHAMPIONS OF KAVIOS

I failed to steady my hands as I stepped into place on the dais.

My gaze roamed the crowd, taking a moment to linger on the line of guards.

There was a tension in Hart’s shoulders that made me want to speed things up.

He looked like a taut bowstring prepared to let an arrow fly.

An anger radiated from him that reminded me of that first meeting with the Feared at the Selection Festival.

Then, he’d brought the brawl to a standstill with only his glare. I didn’t think he’d be able to accomplish the same here. If he interrupted, Alaric’s life would be forfeit. I took another step, pulling the final ring from my bag and sliding it onto my finger .

Hart’s helmet still masked the green of his irises. I was confident they’d attempt to persuade me not to do this, to let him save me instead. But I couldn’t, not with Alaric’s life on the line.

A low growl emanated from his general direction. No one else seemed to notice. Where he previously stood erect, arms behind his back, like any of the other guards at the ceremony, now his hand twitched, and his foot slid forward. Every part of him seemed at war with himself, determining what to do.

I needed to see this through. He’d have more time to think of a plan the longer I hesitated.

Of course Macen was the remaining rebel. I’d known in the pit of my stomach he would be. This wouldn’t just be murder. It would be the murder of someone I knew—even if they had recently tried to kill me themselves.

“Just so that we don’t have any further surprises.” Vaddon’s voice was low, likely only for me to hear. He must have slipped out while the other Selected took. He returned now with Alaric in tow, meeting me at the foot of the dais.

Alaric looked like death. The beatings must have continued wherever they held him. His face was covered in bruises. They’d given him a clean tunic and trousers, but even from here, I could see the stains on them—like he had wounds beneath the fabric that weren’t adequately bandaged.

I wanted to run to him but held my ground. This was how I would help him. I might have questioned that when his look froze me in place. Disappointment creased his brow, and devastation turned his lips. I knew he wouldn’t be happy with my choice to accept Rodric’s Blessing, but this was worse.

It was one thing to convince myself Alaric needed this. It was another to watch his heart break while I did the unspeakable .

“Ember, don’t?—”

Alaric fell forward before he finished, as if Vaddon had elbowed him in the back while they walked.

Catching himself on his hands and knees, his gaze met mine. “Don’t do this.”

My face must have held a resolve I wasn’t sure I had. It sent Alaric on a frantic search of the room like a mouse realizing he was trapped with snakes. I didn’t know what or who he sought.

None of the Blessed would help him.

“Nah-ah-ah.” Vaddon roughly lifted Alaric and pushed him forward. “We’re here to watch, not to speak. We just wanted Emberline to remember the cost of her actions.”

“Bring Alaric here,” the king said. “Proceed, Emberline. We don’t have all day.”

I was out of time. They wanted me to drain Macen. I didn’t think I could do it. Even as I lifted my foot to step toward him, my body shook in revulsion. I wasn’t sure that Macen deserved to live—but I knew I wasn’t meant to kill him.

They would kill Alaric if I didn’t.

Alaric, the man who’d taught me everything I knew.

Alaric, who wanted me to trust my gut more. I shook my head. My gut—my heart—knew this was wrong.

I couldn’t just leave him to die, though. A shaky step forward took me closer to Macen.

“You don’t have to do this?—”

Vaddon elbowed Alaric again, cutting off his words.

This time, when Alaric stood, he smiled.

I didn’t know what could make him do that.

Following his gaze, my eyes locked on a familiar ring.

A ring Hart had used to tap against the glass of Alaric’s workshop.

The duplicate of the commission for R. Lourd.

The ring Soren wore last night when he attacked.

The one Hart had pocketed. Did it hold any magic, or did he only use it to signal to Alaric that he was there?

Alaric’s grin broadened. He’d been looking for Hart.

How he thought Hart would get us all out of this mess, I wasn’t sure. Even with magic, Hart couldn’t get us all out of the throne room unscathed.

I took another step toward Macen.

Macen held both hands up in an attempt to halt my forward progress. “Emberline, your uncle is right. You don’t want to do this.”

I didn’t, but I didn’t have a choice. What was that line from Champions of Kavios ? He had no good choices, only the best, worst ones. I found myself identifying with the Cursed King as I took another step down the dais.

Alaric would forgive me for this. Of course he would.

Will you forgive yourself? My conscience gnawed at the back of my mind. It didn’t matter. Alaric would be alive, and that was what mattered.

I tilted my head from side to side, weighing the thought, as I took another step.

My plan had seemed so simple when I’d walked into the ceremony.

Become what I hate, in name only. Save Alaric.

Figure everything out after.

The plan fell apart when King Rodric announced the taking, and any remaining scraps blew away in the wind. I had refused to see it, but I needed a new plan—something that got us all out of here alive.

I was at the bottom of the dais now. Macen’s hands were still outstretched in a plea not to proceed. My jeweled hand reached for his. I knew I didn’t have to take from him to make this work. I just wasn’t sure how long the ruse would last. Hopefully long enough for me to get to Alaric .

“Ember—don’t!” Alaric threw himself forward as I took Macen’s hand.

My gaze bored into Macen’s, urging him, begging him to go along with this. The ring glowed red as I let my fury rise. I didn’t have to reach deep for the anger. It was brimming at the surface at the position I’d been put in. At the inevitability of it all.

Macen’s brow furrowed, his eyes focused on the red glow. His fear was as apparent as his confusion. I tilted my head slightly, my back to the king, Vaddon, and Alaric. I let my eyes drift closed as Macen stared into them. I hoped against hope he could figure out what I wanted of him.

His eyelids started to flutter, and my heart skipped a beat.

This might work.

He swayed back and forth as the red flash on my ring continued to draw the eyes of the crowd.

“Ember—” Alaric yelled again. “Stop! Before it’s too late.”

I couldn’t stop.

Finally, I chanced a glance toward Hart.

It was unbearable to look at him, given what I knew he felt about the situation—but I hoped he understood my actions for what they were.

His helmet was still in place, but the way his hand flexed, his head twisted slightly to the side—I knew he waited for the moment he was needed.

Not yet.

Macen fell to the ground, his body collapsing atop the other Feared at the foot of the dais. The crowd cheered.

Exhaustion plagued me. I’d put so much of my anger into the ring. I hoped they wouldn’t look too closely at Macen.

“Very good,” the king said behind me. “Now, Selected, to me.”

The grin spreading across his face said this couldn’t be good. He’d already given us the Blessed stones, what more did he need us for?

“You have each proven your dedication to this city. Now, I need you to prove it to me. I will take from each of you, making you part of us, part of those keeping Order in Kavios.”

He raised his hands and gestured for us to join him at the throne. I was going to be ill. This was everything I feared. Every part of my life had been designed to prevent this. What good was the ploy with Macen if everything fell apart at this step.

The task now made sense. Each of the newly Blessed were irrevocably altered by what they’d done. King Rodric expected to take sadness from each of us.

He wouldn’t be able to take from me.

The thing I’d avoided since childhood. The event Mother gave her life to prevent. I was now walking into it with open arms, and not with just any Blessed. Not with someone who cared for me, who would kill to protect me, like Hart, but someone who sought only to control.

What would King Rodric do when he realized I was immune?

He’ll kill you.

Thankfully, the other Selected were all too eager. My panic went unnoticed by most. Of course, I felt Hart’s gaze on me. But what could he do?

Wil got to King Rodric first and took a knee. Rodric didn’t even wait for the rest of us to arrive. He reached for Wil like an addict reaching for his next hit. The blue flashes shot forth from the adamas around his neck before I blinked.

The king needed sadness. How much of the sadness Elias collected at the Presentation had been for himself versus his father? I wasn’t sure it mattered. Everything I’d done would be for nothing if I didn’t act soon.

Rodric took from the others. My steps slowed to ensure I was last in line. Then he reached for me, and I was out of time. The dagger at my hip was heavy against me. I could reach for it. I could stab the king. Would that accomplish anything? It would buy me precious seconds.

“Sebastien! You promised!” Alaric yelled.

I turned from the king—to where Alaric’s shout was directed. Hart’s hand flexed a final time. The ring he wore glowed purple, and then the nightmares unleashed.