Chapter 28
You'll do everything you can to forget the requirements of receiving these pages, but they're the most important part of all of this.
— ALARIC SARE’S PAPERS FOR EMBERLINE ARKOVA
Hours later, I woke from a fitful sleep. I refolded Alaric’s papers strewn across my chest and told Charon I’d return as soon as I could. While he’d told me more than once that he was precisely where he wanted to be, I hated that it seemed like he waited for us.
“You can leave if you want to,” I said as I turned toward the cave entrance.
“We’ve discussed this, Champion. My place is here.” He harrumphed. “Even if I can’t be physically by your side within the walls of Kavios.”
I nodded. Hart had said that Charon thrived around Chaos’s magic.
As the magic of the goddess left me with each trial, I wondered if that impacted Charon, too.
He raised his head as I stood at the cave entrance.
He looked good, healthier than when we’d first found him, the tears in his wings repaired. His scales shone even in the low light.
“This is my choice, Champion,” he said as if noticing my hesitation.
“I’ll be back soon.” With a final nod, I began the return hike to the Storm’s camp, my head a mess of information.
The Library of Linia had at least given me more comfort in the fact that the existence of Champions was barely understood.
They were figures of legend and stories, but in reality, it sounded like only four had existed across the Three Kingdoms—me and Hart included.
I guessed I couldn’t truly comment on Aven, but I’d expected Ciril to have knowledge of those Champions if they had existed. We’d found nothing.
It begged the question of what it even meant for a Champion to win.
Eris’s Champion had won in Linia, but Delphine no longer ruled.
Lucinda and Blair may be descendants of Delphine, but that didn’t mean either of them were Champions.
The less generous side of my mind wondered if this meant Linia was ripe for a new iteration of the game.
And could the same eventually be said of Kavios?
In a hundred years, would the goddesses start over in our kingdom, too, even if Hart and I thwarted them with these trials?
There was no way to be sure.
My soft footfalls against the tightly packed dirt were the only sound for miles. I pushed through the dense undergrowth up the mountain pass toward the Storm’s camp. Removed from the haze my brooding bodyguard’s proximity always brought, I considered our conversation in his apartment.
This thing between us was more than attraction. My uncle’s words about why I’d received his notes in the first place were an annoying reminder of a truth I couldn’t continue to ignore. My heart’s pull toward Hart was undeniable. His only hesitation was the unknown of his summons.
If these trials required our cooperation, our trust … more … I had to believe they could free him from Themis.
I wanted to free Kavios. I wanted the humans to have more than the scraps offered by the Blessed. I wanted those who came after me to have better. I wanted Hart by my side while I did so, unencumbered by the influence of a goddess. Eris wanted me to challenge what was known—well, my list was long.
There had to be a way to accomplish all these goals.
Fast footfalls struck the ground ahead. I froze. No one from the Storm should have cause to stray this far into the mountains.
The pace didn’t slow. I ducked behind a tree and fingered the ring in my pocket. Could I use it if I needed to? My pulse raced at the thought. My own fear found me. Goosebumps pebbled my skin as the steps drew near. Then a branch snapped in the distance.
The moment I turned toward the sound, an arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me close.
“It’s me, Chaos.”
My body knew that fact before my mind. I had already sagged into his encircling arms. He hummed low in satisfaction, and his nose glided against the skin behind my ear, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.
“I was followed,” he whispered.
My spine straightened again as another crunch sounded in the woods. There had been Hart’s close, fast footfalls and … something else.
Hart pulled his sword slowly from its scabbard.
The smallest scrape of metal against metal had me wincing, assuming the worst—that his pursuer could hear us as well as we could hear them.
Hart gripped my shoulder and pressed my back into the tree trunk as he turned to defend us.
He’d barely gotten me out of the way when the man shouted, and Hart’s sword met another.
My heart beat wildly as Hart grunted and pushed his attacker back. Now that the assailant was close enough to strike, I could see the uniform he wore. Royal guards. Panic lashed up my spine, and I reached for the ring in my pocket. What had happened? How many had followed him?
“Hart, look out!” A second guard appeared behind him with a dagger, driving down toward his back. The sword he’d wielded just a moment ago flipped beneath his arm and pierced the second attacker’s chest.
Two. How many more? I hadn’t even finished the thought when someone grabbed my wrist. I screamed. This wasn’t Hart—he stood before me, lunging toward the first guard. In the moment the sound tore from my lungs, Hart froze. The third guard held a blade to my throat.
“Drop your weapon or I’ll kill her.” The voice behind me was gruff. His steady grip on the dagger told me he’d used it before.
Hart appeared to agree. He paused long enough that I knew he wasn’t confident that he could prevent the worst.
My decision was made when the first guard lunged for Hart, sword outstretched. Hart’s slight hesitation had cost him precious seconds to defend himself. If Hart moved, he would seal my fate. And I had a bone-deep knowing that Hart would rather be stabbed than see me killed.
I had no time to consider the moral qualms. No time to remind myself how much I hated what adamas had done to the citizens of Kavios. If I didn’t act, Hart would die. That proved more than enough to motivate me. I slid the ring on my finger and called forth the stored fear.
The guard who held me screamed and dropped to the ground. Hart grunted, and then the guard he fought also fell. My heavy breaths filled the space between us. Hart stabbed the guard at his feet, and the forest absorbed the sound of my attacker’s nightmares.
Hart’s green eyes met mine. I told myself we listened for others. Really, I teetered on the edge of panic.
I’d used adamas.
Someone had willingly given their fear to fuel it.
Did that matter?
“That was the right call, Chaos,” he said, walking toward me. He plunged his sword into my attacker’s chest, where he twitched and screeched on the forest floor. Some would say Hart showed mercy, freeing him from the nightmare I’d sent him to.
I nodded in response. I’d had no choice. Hart was—
The grunt. Hart had been hit. I hadn’t seen where. “Let me see your side.”
He had already turned and begun the hike toward the Storm’s settlement. “It’s fine. We can dress it at the camp.”
I studied his movements as I followed him. He didn’t wince or struggle with each step. That only worried me more. Where had he been hit? “Hart.”
He stopped at the tone of my voice, and I caught up to him, leaving the bodies of the guards in our wake.
“Let me see it.”
He grumbled, but turned so I could see the entry wound on his side. I gasped at the sight of it, unsure how he wasn’t screaming. Blood soaked his shirt, and the farther I pried back the material, the deeper the wound looked.
I smacked his chest before I could think better of it. “I need to heal this.”
My eyes met his, and he smirked through his obvious pain. “You shouldn’t hit me, I’m wounded.”
A huff of exasperation escaped my lips, and I held his gaze. “Hart.”
He sighed. “Is that an option we still have? I don’t want to make you use the adamas again if I don’t have to.”
My eyes widened. I forgot Hart hadn’t seen the pendant. I touched it beneath my blouse, a convenient excuse to drop his gaze as I spoke. “The orange is flashing.”
His chuckle was low. “I’m not surprised, Chaos.”
Of course I wanted him. We’d barely kissed in his apartment. I’d only started to explore the shape of him again. “It was so quick,” I said. My cheeks heated instantly at the insinuation.
Hart laughed, seemingly unbothered. “When it’s you, it doesn’t take much.”
“Let me heal it.” I reached for him slowly, allowing him every opportunity to stop my progress.
“You won’t meet resistance from me.” He winced, and I knew he was in even more pain than he let on. “I’m glad one of us kept to the plan and saved some healing magic.”
Truly, it hadn’t been my intention, but I guessed he was right. It had been a blessing in disguise.
I cupped his cheek and slid my hand into his hair, my fingers threaded in the thick locks.
I didn’t strictly need to do it, but I wanted as much of Hart as I could have.
I didn’t need further proof that tomorrow, or later, wasn’t guaranteed.
I’d almost lost him to the mudslide, to the raid, and now to the guards in the woods. I wouldn’t wait to claim what I wanted.
I went in with eyes wide open. I’d never regret a moment with Hart.
He stooped to meet my lips with his. A gentle brush turned quickly into a stoked flame.
He bit and sucked. I opened to him, and our tongues slid together in a delicious twist. The magic of our connection alighted.
He may not be able to use lust to heal anymore, but I could take his and use it to heal him.
Regretfully, I pulled my lips from his and bit the tip of the middle finger on my glove.
I had Hart’s undivided attention as I removed it.
It seemed fitting that the lust I collected was from his lips on mine.
Now, I glanced down and swiped my fingers over the wound.
Immediately, it stitched itself together.
In only seconds, the skin looked as though it had never been pierced.