Chapter 15 #2
The fact that I’d never get a chance to ask him echoed through my mind the same way the scene in the throne room did.
I pushed it away as I slid a thin knife through the well-worn gap in the window frame and released the latch on the inside.
I was small enough to go through this half of the window, but I wasn’t sure Hart could do the same.
Undeterred, he followed me with more grace than I expected.
I dismissed the thought that he’d likely had to break in this way before, too.
Alaric had been notoriously bad at getting lost in his experiments.
Sometimes, I hadn’t come to study, sometimes I just wanted to bring Alaric back to reality. Maybe Hart had done the same.
The workshop was undisturbed. It was like the morning Alaric went missing all over again. The morning everything changed. The thick gold curtain was pulled neatly into place. Nerves drove me to peek behind it first, at the showroom side of the shop.
Ready jewelry settings waited for the perfect piece of adamas to hold.
Alaric’s and my absence seemed only noted by the wilting of my plants.
Green leaves hung limply from the ivies and ferns, but they needed care.
Brown spots bloomed, and the dirt, even the rich soil of the Oldwood, looked bone dry.
I returned to the back to find my watering can.
Hart didn’t speak as I went about my work.
Hesitantly, I touched the soil of each pot.
A sad smile curved my mouth to remember this was how I’d trained myself to travel the Oldwood.
My reaction to the dirt, to the Oldwood itself, had been strong.
All to find out that Charon called to me from deep below the soil and roots.
I don’t know what I expected when I sank my fingers into the dirt now, but Hart’s question seemed to give voice to my thoughts.
“Does it feel different?”
“Yes and no,” I said as I poured water into the pots. “I feel no hold, no call, but I can’t say I feel nothing.”
I didn’t have to look at him to know he moved a step closer. Feet still separated us, but the hairs on my arm stood on end at the small movement.
“That’s a good start.”
My back was to him. I knew I had to face him.
But, oh, I really didn’t want to. Under his gaze, I had always felt exposed.
He had always seen too much, pierced whatever cover I thought I held in place for the rest of the city.
I didn’t want to do this—didn’t want to discuss whatever we thought might lead to a revelation of our deepest sadness.
But I could do hard things.
With a final tip of the water glass, spilling its contents into the remaining pot, I turned.
As I did so, my other hand went to the pendant beneath my blouse.
Its light wasn’t visible through the wrapping and my clothing, but now that I understood it, I thought we’d know if it worked by sense alone. “How do you want to do this?”
It might have been my imagination, but I could almost pretend he was going easy on me with the way he searched the showroom instead of letting his green eyes sift through every thought that crossed my face. “You tell me, Chaos.”
Did my heart race at the sound of the stupid name?
Yes. Did I never want to hear it again? Maybe.
I didn’t want to feel any of the things I did when Hart was involved.
That was the problem, wasn’t it? In this very room, most mornings, Alaric had pushed me to trust my gut.
My default state was to overthink, overanalyze, and look at things from every angle.
What this trial asked of me, I wasn’t sure I could give.
Especially not to him.
“You brought me here. What did you think was going to happen?” I took a deep breath and stepped toward him.
I knew my words weren’t fair. We had both agreed to attempt these stupid trials.
With the knowledge that Vaddon and Themis were up to something, it felt more urgent.
But I felt caged, like Alysa’s bird in one of the Storm’s tents.
I wanted out. What was worse, I didn’t even know what steps to take to get there.
Think about Alaric? Feel sad that he was gone?
I’d done that every day—every hour—since the throne room. His loss wasn’t my deepest sadness, it was simply a part of my being.
Hart’s focus shifted to me with my next step toward him.
He stiffened near imperceptibly. Could he be as uncomfortable as I was?
It hadn’t truly set in that he had to do this, too.
I’d been so focused on my own failings—my own inability to feel.
The thought that Hart had just as much to do here as I did curved my lip infinitesimally.
He looked pained, as if he might retreat.
“I don’t need to be in Alaric’s workshop to think about my uncle. Do you?”
“This won’t work,” he mumbled as he leaned back and gripped the shop counter.
I huffed a dry laugh at how quickly he gave up. Finished with the watering can, I brushed past him, behind the gold curtain.
“Chaos.” It was a whisper on his breath. I wasn’t sure I was meant to hear it.
The metal rings that held the curtain in place slid across the bar, a clear sign Hart followed.
Good. The workshop was where I spent my time.
I imagined the same held true for Hart. One of us had to try.
We had no other options. It wasn’t only our fates on the line.
Whether I wanted to admit it or not, Hart and I were Kavios’s one chance for change.
We failed to free more than ourselves if we didn’t accomplish these trials.
“This is where my entire journey began. Alaric was the only one who invested in me, who thought me worth teaching. Now he’s gone.
Do you expect my tears to flood the room?
” I turned to face Hart again. This time, his gaze met mine, and something salty coated my tongue.
It mingled almost immediately with the minty flavor of Hart’s sadness.
Hart was both worried and saddened, but still, he let me lead him around Alaric’s workshop.
I was no longer sure I held a single ounce of control here. In fact, I wondered if I ever had, or if he’d only let me think I had.
“Do you want them to?” His voice was rich and smooth and reminded me of the first day I’d seen him from the workbench mirror. I wanted to be rid of the memory.
“You want me to tell you I’m devastated that my uncle is gone?” I threw my arms out to gesture to the empty workspace. “You want me to cry in front of you? Will that help?”
His expression didn’t change—not a single twitch as he matched me step for step around my uncle’s space. It was infuriating.
“This can’t be my deepest sadness. My anger at his secrets, my despair that he’s gone, my confusion over how he thought this would all play out. It’s not a one-time pain to focus on, it’s a constant barrage to survive. Grieving my uncle will take a lifetime.”
“Neither of us thought this would be easy,” he said quietly.
“Should I be happy to know he did so much to protect me? Should I find joy in the life he tried to provide?” I bit my lip to stop the tears that rimmed my eyes. “I don’t even know if I’m thankful. I just wish I had more time with him to find out.”
Hart’s steady gaze was maddening. I wanted to shake him. I wanted a reaction from him. Before I could say more, the front door to the shop jingled.
“Fuck,” Hart hissed, his gaze shooting immediately to the window we’d crawled through.
I winced, knowing we had to make a break for it. There was no other exit. Hart lifted me and slid me through the opening before I could protest. Landing on my feet and righting myself on the alley side of the building, something curdled the back of my tongue: Hart’s fear.
It was too quiet. They’d hear Hart crawl through. He’d only boosted a leg on the bench when the shout came from behind him.
“Stop! What are you doing?”
Hart’s gaze met mine. His green eyes focused with such precision that I was sure he wished they could compel me, like the green glow of an adamas stone. “Run.”
Instead, I reached for his hand and yanked him forward. I couldn’t leave him here.
A guard lunged for him inside the shop. Hart kicked hard—the guard cried out and covered his nose—before he crawled through the opening.
We had seconds to get away, before however many guards were inside the shop could get out and around the building to us. But we didn’t have anywhere to go. They would follow too closely. We couldn’t lead them back to Forest’s Edge, and the Eastern Gate was guarded.
I froze with indecision. The clamor of the guards exiting the front door of the shop gave me no new ideas. Fear raced down my spine with each second that passed.
“Come on, Chaos. Move!” Hart had righted himself, and his large hand enveloped mine, pulling hard. His demand urged my legs into motion. We cut behind the workshop and sprinted through the back alleys along the north side of Cross Street.
“Halt!” The guards gave chase.
I was sure he had done the same calculations I had as he led us east through the alleys. “We can’t—”
His nod was quick. The haunted look in his eyes was less than reassuring. “I know where we can go.”
He looked anything but confident, but with no alternate options and surprisingly little hesitation, I put my fate in his oddly reassuring grip.