Page 19 of Jeweler to the Blessed
Carver removed his helmet. He had light brown hair that framed his face. “His guard said it was urgent.”
“It is,” Vaddon replied. “Go ahead; you don’t need me.”
Carver stared at him. Like the strategist he likely was, he tried to understand what he was walking into, but Vaddon was unwilling to provide more information.
A prickle along my cheek returned my gaze to the men behind Carver. This wasn’t the feeling of magic attempting to penetrate my mind. It felt like I was being watched. A glare so heavy it had a physical presence against my skin. But I couldn’t see either guard’s face to determine which one it was.
“We should get to it then,” the guard on the left said. His voice was all I needed to hear. The familiar low rumble sent warmth flooding through my insides. I didn’t need to see his eyes to know they were forest green.
Alaric’s visitor was a … guard? One up for the position of my personal defender.
I swallowed. The stranger didn’t know anything about me. The prince had more dangerous information than this guard did. But the guard was the one who mentioned the youngleaf to Alaric yesterday. Was he the one Alaric bought from?
Vaddon strode to the towering double doors, and I rushed to catch up. Maybe Alaric had accepted a guard, and the prince hadn’t known it? Alaric’s visitor potentially becoming my guard was a complication I couldn’t begin to unpack.
Yesterday, any information about this man who knewAlaric better than I did would have been my top priority to investigate. Today, with only hours to take care of Mother’s medicine before my life would be turned upside down, it would have to wait.
It was barely midday, but that was irrelevant given the Selection Festival. Cross Street was abuzz with excitement. Shops and businesses in the rest of the city rushed to close early. All eyes were on the castle steps, wanting to know who would join the ranks of the Blessed, even hours before the Selection.
Vaddon shooed me away at the base of the hill. His sneer was becoming too familiar. “We’ll see you back here tonight.”
I hadn’t turned completely when his lip curled into an appalling smirk. The king’s advisor was low on my list of worries today. I pulled my gloves up again to confirm I was fully covered and slipped undetected into the flow of people on Cross Street. My instincts were on high alert as I walked east. There were too many people and no reasonable way to distinguish Blessed as they all passed so quickly. My best chance was to be invisible. Thankfully, I’d had years of practice.
The mines must have closed this morning for tonight’s celebration. Workers gathered on Cross Street, packed tightly like a school of fish attempting to appear larger than they were to the surrounding predators.
“Emberline.” The voice had the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. “Emberline, what are you doing here?” Macen called from the group. I may have escaped the Blessed this morning, but not everyone without magic was good news either.
At one point in our youth, Macen would have been consideredgangly, but unfortunately, he’d filled out. Most now would describe him as handsome. His light brown hair was expertly tousled. Looking at him made me cringe. It wasn’t entirely his fault. He reminded me of traits I wasn’t particularly proud of. Like when I was young and stupid and found him charming.
His attention had been an escape from the fear of discovery, from Mother’s condition, and from the responsibility Father piled upon me after. I may have thought I was in love then, but sleeping with him also conveniently distracted me from my growing list of responsibilities.
He repeated his question as I tried to pass without acknowledgment. “What are you doing here?” Rather than drawing more attention to where I was going, I paused to speak to the group.
“It’s a little late to meet with the jeweler, isn’t it?” He sounded annoyed. “You’ve been running your father’s shop for years, Emberline. Do you still need his pointers?”
I didn’t rise to the bait of his backhanded compliment. It wasn’t playful like when Alaric did it. This was just one of the long list of red flags that made me realize Macen wasn’t for me.
Father’s devastation after Mother’s accident had been eye-opening. He wasn’t the same man. It made me wary of love like theirs. A love so consuming that his world made little sense to him without her present.
So, I might have been fine with Macen. I found him attractive, and we both had a quiet, seething anger about being exploited by the Blessed. If only the rest of him wasn’t so … terrible.
“Emberline?” he prodded, growing impatient.
“I’ve got errands.”
“Did you hear about the mine cave-in yesterday?” Macen asked. It bothered me how easily he switched from annoyed toengaging—trying to draw me into the conversation. Were either real?
I shook my head, remembering the earthshake yesterday morning. “I’m sorry to hear. I do have to get going.”
“I can’t be worse than the Blessed leech.” His voice was low, but a few others in the group must have heard him. An older man beside him narrowed his gaze, evaluating whether to interfere, if I had to guess.
My every instinct wanted to ball my hands into fists and slug one into his face, but expressing anger in public was as stupid as expressing joy.
This was new, though. The angle of Macen’s irritation appeared to have changed. Once, he was easily jealous of anyone and anything I spent time with. Now, it seemed he looked down on those who worked with the Blessed.
“So, you despise anyone trying to make a living in the city?” I hated myself for engaging. I’d heard the term “Blessed leech” before. Usually, it was directed at those who sought the Blessed’s touch—those who wanted to get lost in the delirium of taking.
“Not all those who work for the Blessed grant them the power your uncle does.”
