“I’ll search it, sir,” the man mumbled.
“Remember,What Makes a Champion of Orderis the title. But it could have been recovered. Search for anything describing how to become Themis’s Champion. No matter how far-fetched it sounds.”
“Yes, sir,” Weston mumbled.
“You have five days. It should take less. If you don’tcontact me with the book by then, I’ll assume you’ve chosen to flee Kavios.” The click of Vaddon’s boots sounded as he returned to the doorway. When he opened it, clinks of glass and the slide of silverware against plates, and a hundred conversations happening at once flooded the near-empty room.
I held Hart’s stare as we waited to hear the second set of steps, the second opening and closing of the door signaling the other man had left as well. It didn’t come.
The light footfalls of the second man moved about the room. Some brought him closer to us; some brought him farther. He must be pacing.
My hands pressed against Hart’s broad chest, the contact a balm to my frayed nerves. The information Vaddon asked for sounded terrifying. I couldn’t begin to untangle what it meant.
Hart’s nose was close enough that it could slide against my throat. His lips could follow. Fucking Chaos. This was such a mess.
Ava’s voice was a ray of sunshine piercing the storm clouds. “You can’t be in here.”
“Ah, sorry, Ava. I didn’t?—”
“I know. Camm left.”
We couldn’t see what passed between Ava and Weston, but the door opened and closed again. After the world’s longest pause, one that sent me inching closer to Hart, Ava spoke. “You’re good, but I’d leave out the side exit.”
I crawled off Hart as quickly as I’d leaned into his strength. Ava had left the room by the time we emerged from beneath the table.
“What was that?”
Hart studied me. “I was trying to find out. He rented a room upstairs this afternoon. That book—he must be getting desperate, because he met with another woman and had nearly the same conversation.”
The way he held my gaze always made me too aware of his presence. This was no different. “Do you really think Themis told him it’s in the city? What could it tell them about the summoning?”
It couldn’t just be the summoning. I had some inkling of that truth, but the other reality was too terrifying to voice.
Hart’s shrug belied his worry. I wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing that I could see the rigid set of his jaw for the anxiety it was. The salty taste in my mouth followed. He changed the topic, but his determination to complete the trials spoke for itself. “We should go to Alaric’s workshop. It’s late enough. Ava said the guards tend to be less active at this time of night.”
I nodded and walked to the side exit as Ava had instructed. My mind spun with what we’d heard. Hart and I had been searching for a way to break our curse. It had only occurred to me yesterday that the end of the trials—breaking free—might have larger implications.
Scarlett had said every well-crafted goal had many chaotic paths to success. It gave me pause. We’d talked so much about balance in Ciril. The Goddesses seemed to favor it, especially Themis. So what if, in the service of her goal, there was another, orderly path to her desired outcome?
Hart’s hand pressed lightly on my lower back as he ushered us down Cross Street. I moved more quickly and confidently than I was used to. It told me precisely how different things were now, after my return to Kavios. No more slipping by unnoticed or dodging a bump from anyone. The fears weren’t gone, but I found they were no longer my highest priority.
That was a depressing thought.
The key to Alaric’s shop was heavy in my pocket. I’d kept it with me even on our journey—a piece of Alaric to hold close. We didn’t use it. Per Ava’s warning, we walked down the alley to climb in through one of the windows in the back.
I’d entered this way before. Before Alaric acknowledged I’d be visiting most mornings, before he gave me my own key. Now, I couldn’t help but wonder if the hesitation to teach me forbidden history, to train me in gem shaping and jewelry making, had actually been a hesitation to force me on this path he’d concocted.
Had he come to regret his decisions?
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.
