Page 10 of Jeweler to the Blessed
“He’s also never been late picking up the youngleaf,” Father grumbled.
The stranger had said that too.
“Ember, is that you?” Mother called from the bedroom. No matter how hard I tried not to, I flinched at the lack of inflection in her voice. She had been such a vibrant woman. Mother had once confronted the Blessed daily as a cook in one of their households and still brought a radiant happiness home with her every evening. We’d prepare the evening meal as a family and sit around the hearth telling stories from the day. Her rich laughter had been my favorite part of our evenings together as a child. Sometimes, I’d make up adventures of stealing away from the shop, braving the Oldwood, and running deep into the mines. I’d tell Mother that something called to me there. That there were more than snakes slithering down pathways, chasing after mice. There was an animal out there that was meant to be my friend. A glint would shine in Mother’s eye, one I was always excited to bring forth. Then she’d reach for me and say she hoped that was true, but I better not let a bigger, scaled creature get me first. The tale would devolve into a frenzy of giggling as she tickled me where the fabled creature would bite.
Thinking back on it now, it didn’t seem like a typical story for a child. But what is typical? It was ours, and I missed it—desperately.
“Ember,” she called softly again from her room.
Whatever it was, it was gone now.
“Coming, Mother.”
Father crossed the room again, meeting me before the fire. His voice was low. I almost thought I imagined it. “If Alaric misses tonight’s pickup, you must go to Forest’s Edge to retrieve it before you leave.”
My breath caught. It was the first time he’dacknowledged my plan. If Alaric missed the pickup tonight, we’d have bigger problems than me collecting the youngleaf. I held Father’s stern gaze. Something balled in his fist drew my attention: a piece of paper with Alaric’s familiar scrawl visible.
“Your mother is waiting.”
I knew a dismissal when I heard it. I shook my head and walked down the hall to her room. At least she wasn’t still in bed. She sat in the wooden chair by the window with a book in her lap.
She gestured to the bed. “I thought I heard your voice. Come sit with me.”
I perched on the corner of my parents’ old mattress. Mother’s bright blue eyes looked a cool gray today. It was one of the signs indicating she needed more medicine. I knew how to use the youngleaf to make the tonic, but before today, I’d not had cause to wonder where it came from. If it came from Forest’s Edge, it couldn’t be legal.
“How was your morning?” Mother pulled me from my thoughts.
I folded my hands in my lap, always a little unsure how much she’d engage. “It was fine. I was with Alaric.”
“How is he holding up?”
Something stung behind my eyes at the question. Mother was especially alert to notice.
She held out her hand. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, baby. We’ve talked about this. You have to do what’s right for you. It’s all any of us want.”
My head turned toward the living room and Father. It wasn’t necessarily true of him.
Mother reached for my hand, and I knelt beside her so she could pat it. “You know it’s not entirely his fault. He’s not protected like we are.”
“Why not?”
“Sweetie, that’s his choice. It’s easier for him to let the magic overtake him on my bad days.”
That was news to me. I wasn’t even sure I knew what that meant. She wasn’t immune to the Blessed taking from her. It was hard to tell given her overall lack of energy, but I thought she was implying the mind magics like calm and persuasion didn’t affect her. Her gaze went distant before I could ask follow-up questions, and a faint smile curled her lip. “Did Alaric give you a passage?”
He’d had one ready for her the moment I arrived this morning. “Let me grab it.”
I jogged down the hallway to retrieve the copied words fromChampions of Kavios. Whether she talked about the passage he wrote was hit or miss, but her lips usually twitched toward a smile when I read them. Her gaze locked on mine as I returned to my seat on the bed, pulling off the ribbon and unrolling the paper.
Chaos may have cursed him, but she had bigger plans.
This was a little … useless. The Cursed King was Order’s Champion, her favored. The text said something drove him to reject his fate, to confront Chaos instead of waiting to fight her champion—I imagined hubris. Chaos didn’t take kindly to anyone making demands of her, especially her sister’s pet, so she cursed him.
I’m not sure anyone knew how.
The Siblings weren’t known for their care for humans, those with magic or those without. Their champions were often described as little more than playing pieces on a gameboard. Maybe Chaos had bigger plans when she cursed her sister’s champion, but I didn’t think she cared too much.
This wasn’t about my analysis. It was an exercise for Mother’s mind. I glanced at her as I finished reading the line. Her eye glistened, the rim overflowing as a tear fell to her cheek. I set the paper on the mattress and knelt before her. “Are you alright, Mother? What is it?”
