Page 20 of Jeweler to the Blessed
Macen’s comment had gooseflesh dancing across my covered skin. This was too close to the warning I’d just received from the prince. Even worse, his words seemed to claim the gem granted power instead of the king—another conversation I did not want to have.
“You sound like one of the Feared,” I whispered.
It didn’t entirely surprise me that he ended up here. He wasn’t only angry with his position in society. He resented the Blesseds’ prosperity.
WhileChampions of Kavioswas the only copy of its kind, it wasn’t the only text that told the Cursed King’s story. It was awhispered fable for children. So much so that the rebel group had named itself for his unique power to take fear. They found power in the idea of the Cursed King’s defiance.
Citizens, sick of Blessed taking, were far too easy to relate to, but my practical mind was too quick to play out the possibilities. What came from the group—rebellion? What chance did they have, without magic, against the magic of the Blessed?
Macen smiled a boyish grin. He opened his mouth to speak again.
A boy standing beside him beat him to it, nudging Macen’s shoulder. “Who do you think it will be?”
Macen clenched his teeth, a muscle in his jaw ticking as the boy rambled on, oblivious to Macen’s annoyance.
“Excuse me?” Macen replied, unable to make the connection.
“Jasper, you can’t just assume everyone else is thinking about the Selection like you are,” the older man, who’d been watching my exchange with Macen, said. He winked at me, and I was beyond grateful for the interference.
Jasper flushed, and his brow furrowed slightly as if unsure how anyone thought about anything else. He addressed the older man. “Fine, Farrow. Who do you think will be selected?”
Tonight’s Selection was Kavios’s largest celebration. Now that I was staying, I would have to deal with it—more than deal with it. Now that I was Jeweler to the Blessed, I’d be central to the celebration.
Every year, eight days of festivities marked the Selection of four new Blessed. The event concluded with the King’s Blessing and bestowing of adamas. While only the fates of the four were changed, the entire city came alive with anticipation.
Anyone could be Selected.
“I’m sure there are four children of the Blessed who will steal up the spaces,” Farrow said. “Don’t get your hopes up.”
It was true. A child of two Blessed wasn’t granted the King’s Blessing at birth. The child had to wait for Selection, just like the rest of us. Although, they tended to be waiting in the luxury of a Blessed household instead of the too-packed apartments in Woodside. At eighteen, they became eligible for Selection and were prioritized.
Usually, the Selection of a Blessed child was a formality. Though, I’d read a story in one of Alaric’s banned books about a Blessed daughter leaving Kavios rather than being Selected.
I hoped it was true—hoped people really did leave this city—even if my chance to do so had slipped through my fingers.
Jasper scratched his neck. “Stephen said there were only three Blessed children eligible. At least one of the Selected must be from a magicless family.”
He smiled at Farrow with unchecked enthusiasm. The older man nudged him closer to the center of the group of miners. He appeared to be protecting the boy from his wildly expressive face.
“Aye, you may be right,” Farrow replied. “But that doesn’t mean it will be you. Keep your head.”
The scent of spiced meats flooded my nose. I glanced farther down Cross Street. Food stalls, market vendors, and game stands were ready for tonight. The festival kicked off the celebratory events. A city-wide Cornucopia followed the festival to foster community. Shortly after that was the Presentation. When those Selected went to the Oldwood Mine and were shown the adamas they would receive. If the Selection Festival and Cornucopia were for the city, the Presentation and Masquerade Ball were for the Blessed. These were events to welcome the soon-to-be Blessed into their ranks.
The King’s Blessing concluded the celebrations. This wasdone behind closed doors in the castle throne room. Few were privy to it—as Jeweler to the Blessed—I would be.
“Were you talking to the king’s advisor?” Macen asked as the conversation with the other miners fell into a lull. I was genuinely caught off guard.
“He just wanted me to get away from the steps. They were setting up for the stupid festival.” I wasn’t sure what Macen had seen, but my response was plausible enough.
“Stupid?” Jasper turned again, inserting himself into our conversation. Farrow glanced at me, likely gauging my reaction. Whatever he saw on his face had him nodding his approval to Jasper’s continued interruption. “Do you not like the festival? It’s the Selection!”
I wasn’t sure how to answer that. Farrow came to my aid. “Not everyone enjoys packed streets and mingling with the Blessed, kid.”
“But that’s the fun of it!” Jasper said. “We mix and mingle like we’re the same.”
“It’s not all mingling with the Blessed,” Macen replied. “Sometimes it’s good to outnumber them. Show them they won’t be able to take forever.”
Farrow guffawed, echoing my earlier words, his tone just as hushed. “You do sound like one of the Feared.”
