Page 4 of Jeweler to the Blessed
— FROM CHAMPIONS OF KAVIOS
With unsteady hands, I did as Alaric asked, stacking the remaining books in the hidden storage and giving a cursory nod to the dragon statue Alaric kept there. The dragon represented Chaos. I hoped the goddess was looking out for him now.
My head tilted slightly as I listened for signs of the unexpected customer. Unable to hear anything, I left the storage room door slightly ajar and crept to the thick curtain. Overhearing the conversation was the only way to determine if I needed to hide—at least, that’s what I told myself. I wiped my sweaty palms on my skirt as the jostle of the turning lock reached myears.
The door creaked open. “What are you doing here?” Alaric said.
I’d only ever heard him use that tone with Father when they argued about me. When Alaric told Father he put too much pressure on me, or when he reminded him that Mother’s accident wasn’t my fault.
With all the practice of one who strived to go unnoticed, I took another silent step toward the curtain. Shapes were not visible through the dense gold fabric, so I couldn’t tell if Alaric and the stranger weren’t speaking, or if I simply couldn’t hear. I guessed I should be thankful for the curtain. The visitor was hidden, but it hid me from them too.
“You didn’t come by last night.” The man’s voice was rich and smoky. A heat, like that of an adamas stone in my hand, filled my body with the sound.
Alaric didn’t respond.
“Ava was worried.” As the man spoke again, I couldn’t help but think his voice felt how a sip of whisky in Woodside tasted. My insides may warm when the cheap drink slid down my throat, but the final bite of the liquor was unavoidable.
“I didn’t have time,” Alaric finally said.
“Don’t you need more youngleaf?” The man phrased this as a question, but something in the confidence of the words told me he already knew the answer.
Alaric sighed. “Yes, but she has a few more days of?—”
“You never miss a pickup.” This was a statement, but even I heard the question beneath.
My hands balled into fists at my sides as I realized what they were discussing. I had sparse details of the shape of Alaric’s evenings. He worked for the royals, but their commissions were infrequent outside the Selection. To my knowledge, he spent his time on his experiments. I didn’t care for the man’s tone, but I, too, wondered why Alaricwouldn’t have time to pick up the herb we used for Mother’s tonic.
Alaric sounded defeated, almost apologetic in his reply. “I had work to do.”
“Ahhh.” The man drew out the syllable like he was drawing out the endgame of a chess match he already knew he’d won. “But the Selection starts tomorrow. You haven’t received the commissions yet. Nothing else could be more important than the youngleaf for your sister.”
Alaric sighed, and I could imagine his left fingers twisting the gold band on his right hand again. He didn’t want to own up to whatever he was doing last night, when he was meant to meet with this man. I snuck a little closer, drawn to the voice in a way that should probably have made me uncomfortable.
“Are you in trouble? I’ve made it clear that an attack on your person is an attack on me.” The man was urging Alaric to speak—to give him some indication of what was going on.
My hand started to shake. Why would Alaric be in trouble? Who was this man to command such authority in Kavios? I’d think the prince was at the door if Alaric hadn’t answered so rudely.
A million other questions surfaced. This conversation had me wondering what I knew about my uncle. I knew he liked tea instead of coffee. I knew where he kept the tools to cut the adamas. I even knew his favorite passages in the histories of Kavios. I spent more time with him than anyone in the city, but I had no idea what his day looked like outside of our mornings together.
This man knew things about Alaric that I didn’t.
A mirror hung on the other side of the shop, angled to let Alaric see entering customers during the day while he worked behind the curtain. I’d need to cross the workshop to use it, all but removing my escape route to the storage room.
“I can start the work for the Selection without knowing the full commission details.” Alaric ignored the man’s question about his safety.
A low chuckle sent tingles across my skin. The man was laughing, though the sound rang hollow. My body moved before my mind decided. I crossed the room like a moth drawn to a flame, desperate to glimpse the stranger at the door.
“If you were doing that, why did Soren see you at the Eastern Gate?”
“Eris, curse him,” Alaric hissed.
My mouth hung open. To the wrong ears, the chaos goddess’s name was treason. He spoke of her to me often, but I never considered that he might have spoken to others about such a dangerous topic.
I reached the workbench and looked up. Alaric was thin but tall, and like he’d known what I would do, his body was strategically angled to block the man’s face. Whoever the stranger was, his frame was broad. His shoulders stretched past Alaric’s. He wore a black tunic that looked rumpled even as it hugged honed arm muscles. The Blessed were always beautiful, but the messy folds of this man’s shirtsleeves made it look like he worked for his physique instead of stealing joy from the others to pay for his vanity. His hair was a rich chocolate brown. It might be knotted at his neck, but I couldn’t see that or any other distinguishing features through Alaric.
“Why were you in the Oldwood?” The man pressed. “You weren’t going to the mines, were you?”
I envied Alaric’s ability to pass through the Oldwood with relative ease. Some said the gnarled branches sheltered more than dangerous creatures. I got lost in them once, and as this morning had proved, whatever lurked in the woods still threatened to overtake me when I entered, no matter my attempt to numb myself to its impacts.
