Page 23 of Jeweler to the Blessed
I bit the inside of my lip, waiting to see what she’d say next.
Snippets of Alaric’s conversation with the visitor flashed through my mind. He’d made it sound like the herb was waiting for Alaric. Ava was waiting for him. I could try that angle. All that mattered was that I left with the youngleaf.
“Do you have what I need? My mother can’t wait.”
Her hand moved to the pocket of her apron. I had a feeling the vial with the herb was there. I laced my fingers on the counter, trying again to find an outlet for my nervous energy. Ava may not wear adamas, but she held a different power. She knew I needed something she had.
“Do you have any idea where he is?” she asked.
I shook my head.
Her eyebrow raised again as when she’d first evaluatedme at the door. “You just came to collect this for him, though he’s told me not to let you into this establishment?”
I shouldn’t be surprised by that revelation. She’d only let me in when she realized he was missing.
“He’d want me to take care of Mother first.”
A brief flash of concern crossed her face, leaving me to wonder what mine gave away. Before she could press, someone else emerged from behind the curtain.
“Just give it to her,” he said. The man was tall and lean, with blond hair that fell over his eyes and partially covered a scar running down the side of his pale face.
“Soren.” Ava turned to the man, hissing his name through gritted teeth.
Soren leaned on the counter in front of me. I stepped back, not liking the way he pushed into my space. He was unbothered, tapping his fingers on the bar top.
He glared at me. “Well, isn’t this a surprise? Alaric’s niece. Are you like your uncle?”
Hairs raised on the back of my neck. That could mean a thousand things, but somehow, I knew he referred to Alaric’s ability to detect adamas.
“Here then.” Ava handed me the vial. “Take this and go.” She kept glancing at Soren like he was a rainstorm rolling in over the mountains, ready to unleash a downpour on the unsuspecting populace.
“She just got here.” Soren’s smile made me want to step back farther. I held my ground with Ava and the bar between us. “She hasn’t answered my question yet.”
“She doesn’t have to.” Ava’s expression spoke volumes. I was suddenly sure she knew Alaric better than I realized—that she was protecting me now—another friendship he’d kept hidden.
“Someone has to. It seems Alaric left key information out.”Soren sounded angry.
“What do I owe you?” I asked, directing my question to Ava. I agreed with her. I needed to leave, though I didn’t understand why.
Soren’s laugh was hollow. “What do you owe us? How about some fucking honest answers.”
Ava put her hand on his chest, pushing him behind her as she stepped back into my line of vision. I sucked in a breath. Something about the way his anger radiated made him seem volatile. The visitor and Ava may be friends of Alaric’s, but it was clear Soren was not a fan.
“Alaric is settled for this one,” Ava said.
Soren laughed again, though he didn’t interrupt.
I needed to get out of here—but I also needed to plan for the rest of Mother’s pickups. “What about his regular deliveries? I need them. It will be hard for me to get away.”
I’d said the wrong thing.
Soren’s rage flashed across his face in a display that would have had Blessed reaching for him to take. “And we deserve the truth. Not to hear our suspicions proven by a girl who has no idea what she’s stepped into.”
The city would soon know I was replacing Alaric as Jeweler to the Blessed, but my pulse beat faster as I considered Soren’s anger. Was I in danger? I took a deep breath, reminding myself I’d have a guard shortly. This man couldn’t intimidate me. It wasn’t my fault Alaric had left me in the dark.
Ava’s brow raised again. Something in her face looked less welcoming than before. Like she, too, was disappointed with the revelation that I might be like Alaric. “We can’t settle that now. You’ll have to come back.”
My gaze focused on Soren pacing behind her. Whatever he thought he knew from our encounter, I didn’t like it. He turnedquickly, giving me a final glare, and tore behind the curtain without another word.
