Page 81 of Jeweler to the Blessed
I hated my gut.
But it also reminded me that whether they were Feared or not, I had little question that Vaddon was behind the attack.
“Does Vaddon work with the Feared? Like you … do … did?”
Hart tilted his head. “Not that I know of. I’m still determining his motives in all of this. He hasn’t escaped my notice, either. It’s clear he wanted you to be alone on the street that morning. I just can’t prove it.”
Leaving the scent of death with the city, we entered the Oldwood. I eyed the bag slung over Hart’s shoulder. He had slipped into the alley next to the tavern and returned with it. I wanted to know what was inside. Or, possibly, I wanted to distract myself for as long as possible, hoping the Oldwood wouldn’t overtake me.
“We’ll go to the pickup first. Then the mines. They wouldn’t expect us this early anyway.”
That would also ensure we missed the miner’s shift change. I glanced up to evaluate the sun’s light, but thestubborn tangle of branches and the thick layer of leaves refused it access.
I didn’t know how I ever thought I could make it through the woods alone in my original plan. The trappings of this place never stopped reaching for me. With only a few steps, it felt like something called me—without words. I didn’t know where to look—didn’t know what it wanted.
Hart’s gaze was heavy on the back of my neck. He saw too much, but this was not something I could explain. His presence reassured me. If I strayed from the path again, he would be there. The Oldwood could try, but in a battle of wills to take me, it would lose against Hart.
I attempted to distract myself. “What’s in the bag?”
“Supplies.”
Could he be any more unhelpful? Something may have changed between us, but at least this was familiar.
“Do I need to know anything else about this … settlement?” I was unreasonably nervous. Whether it was due to the Oldwood or the illicit side trip before we ventured to the mines, I didn’t know.
“Just be yourself.”
He was giving me nothing to work with. “Will they know who that is?”
“Some will. Some won’t. For them, it’s more about others knowing of their existence and caring about their choice to live … outside. Who or what you are won’t be the focus.”
All too quickly, the Oldwood distracted me from my questions. I fought for each step I took as the forest’s magic threatened to pull me under.
The sound of Mother’s cries, searching for me through the trees, rang in my ears.
“No.”
I spoke the word aloud, hoping that giving voice to it would push back whatever hold the forest had on me.
Hart was beside me now. His presence an anchor. “What do you … see in the Oldwood?”
His words were hesitant, which, at this moment, I appreciated.
There wasn’t any point in keeping this from him. He had already seen the impacts. “Not see. Hear.”
He cleared his throat. “What do you hear?”
I shook my head. “A voice calls to me. It has since I was a girl. I’m unsure if it’s even there or just some phantom magic of this place.”
Hart arched a brow.
“What?”
He chuckled. “Phantom magic?”
“Great, now you’re laughing at me too.”
“I’m just curious. You know, they say sometimes the Oldwood tells us what we need to hear.”
