Page 134 of Jeweler to the Blessed
Hart was the Cursed King.
Unlike the night of the festival, he no longerpretendedto be affected by the magic. I felt so stupid that I hadn’t recognized his act for what it was.
Shrieks filled the room. Even Alaric, who had called to Hart, lay crumpled on the ground, screaming from the tortures of his own mind.
“Hart.” The word broke free of my lips.
He pulled off his helmet. His gaze lifted to mine before he finished scaling the steps.
“You’re him.”
With all I knew about the Cursed King, the words I’d read a hundred times, I couldn’t believe I hadn’t put it together.
Maybe I hadn’t wanted to.
If this was true, Hart wasn’t Blessed—he was cursed. He wore adamas now but didn’t need it to summon this magic. He only needed to find Chaos’s …
Hart hadn’t finished the story in thewoods. My stomach churned. I didn’t need him to finish it now. He’d said Chaos wanted his fate to match what he’d brought upon others, but with a twist only she could appreciate. He’d been so impatient. In his desire to avoid his fate, he’d created the Blessed. When that hadn’t worked, he decided to face Chaos herself rather than wait for her champion. The poetry of the missing end to the sentence was too perfect to ignore.
His curse was to take. And he could only takefrom Chaos’s … Champion.
He could only takefrom me.
I swallowed, my lips pressing into a thin line as I held his stare.
He had grabbed my wrist in the crowd the night of the festival, before he unleashed nightmares. I had even touched him in the adamas room, grabbing his hand before asking him to wield strength.
I flushed. He had all of me only last night. And I’d experienced every emotion. Happy to have found the safety to feel freely. Scared of what came next. I’d felt it all. He must be bursting at the seams with magic.
A hollow laugh escaped my throat.
A thunderous clap erupted before I could string a sentence together, and a woman stood beside Vaddon. A curtain of long blond hair fell to her waist, and she wore a white gown much like my own. I couldn’t look at her directly. A glow emanated from her body and seemed to assert what my mind already suspected: She was the Goddess Themis.
She shook her head in disappointment while the rest of the room’s occupants still screamed from the fear that took over their minds. “That was a little unfair, don’t you think?”
Her touch pulled Alaric from his nightmare. His gaze refocused on the room as Themis held him by the throat.
She glared at Hart with steely gray eyes. “You’re notsupposed to wield the powers I gave you to save her champion. I knew you were rebelling, dear, but this is a little much.”
The words sank below my skin. My current thoughts were working to keep up with what I already knew. Hart was the Cursed King—Themis’s Champion—and she was here to watch him claim his prize?
That didn’t make sense.
“Themis?” Hart dropped his helmet to the floor as he stared at the goddess.
“You’ve been avoiding me, but surely you recognize your goddess after all these years?”
Hart looked unsure, as if he hadn’t expected this. In this particular situation, it was a wholly unsatisfying expression to see.
“Get her out of here, Seb!” Alaric yelled.
Hart pulled his gaze back to me. The purple glow faltered. The room’s other occupants regained consciousness. They were slow to sit up, slow to move. The guards didn’t seem to understand what was going on. Hart still appeared to be one of them.
“I tried over and over to help you.” The goddess kicked Vaddon. “He was so willing to help kill her. Unfortunately, his methods proved insufficient.”
I swallowed. Themis wanted to kill me? She used Vaddon to do so, instead of Hart?
“I didn’t want your help. I didn’t want any of this,” Hart said through gritted teeth.
