Word of our plans must have spread through the camp. It made sense, given we expected many of the Storm to participate in the attack. “That was the point of all of this, wasn’t it?”
Slowly, Father shook his head. “I have no idea what the point of all of this was. Chaos took my daughter, and Rodric’s Blessed took my wife.” He spoke with resignation, but beneath the words, I heard the anger now that I knew to look for it.
“Funny,” I said with little mirth. “I would say that Rodric’s Blessed took both my mother and my father from me.”
He tilted his head in consideration. Pain briefly contorted his features, but he didn’t address it. He lifted his chin in reply. “I’m right here.”
“So am I.”
His nod was nearly imperceptible, but as with him offering his anger, this was one of the most honest conversations I’d had with him since Mother’s accident. Maybe, eventually, we could learn about each other as we were, instead of the shadows of prophecies and chosen Champions.
I turned to enter the tent. Hart waited while I slipped inside.
The setup was very similar to Alysa’s. A nest of blankets was bunched to the left, and a trunk sat on the right. Mother still lay within the bedding. The trunk was the only storage location in the space. I turned to it to search for the tools. Mother’s breathing was even as I opened the latch and rummaged through their few belongings. The saw and clasp I required were easy enough to find.
As I pulled the items free and turned to leave, the whisper of my name halted me. “Ember, baby, is that you?”
Mother had been so quiet last night. Part of me wondered what she had to say about Father’s revelations. “It’s me.”
“How was Linia?” she asked. “I always knew you’d go.”
I’d seen her since my return, but it seemed she wasn’t in aframe of mind to remember that at the moment. I stepped to the foot of the bedding. “It was … nice.” I wasn’t sure what to say. It didn’t seem worth reminding her that I’d been grieving Alaric when I arrived. I also wasn’t sure how much she knew about what Hart had kept from me. “Citizens are allowed to learn freely there. They don’t monitor who reads what and what books are allowed in the libraries.”
“That sounds nice, baby.”
I let out a breath. “It was.”
How much did she remember about her prophecy? I did not doubt that her visions had led Alaric to leave the papers with Queen Lucinda. Hart had them tucked inside his tunic now.
“Do you remember seeing that I’d go there?” I asked.
I had never questioned her so directly about her gifts. They’d seemed so obvious to me when Hart had indicated thatChampions of Kavioswas written by a talented seer—one whom Alaric appeared to know, since he had the only copy in existence.
She reached for my hand. I set the items I’d come for on top of the trunk and walked to the side of the bed. Her grasp was so light, it felt almost like she only rested her fingers in my palm. I hoped the Storm wasn’t having trouble collecting the youngleaf for her tonic. The mudslide made it harder to reach. Even outside of the influence of Rodric’s magic, she seemed to need it, given how much emotion had been stolen from her. I’d ask Alysa about it today.
“I knew you’d go,” she said. “So many paths were laid out before you, but I knew the one you’d pick.”
“How did you know?” I wasn’t sure if she had actually known or if the vision had just been extra strong, or one that had come again and again. These were some of the many questions I wished I could ask Alaric.
“You had so many choices, yet there was only one that would work. That’s what no one likes to think about. Chaos and Order are more related than we think. Some think it’s the abundance of choice versus the absence of choice, but that’s incorrect.” She swallowed thickly, and tears seemed to well in her eyes even though they had that faraway quality that I had come to realize was her recollection of prophesies.
“Why is that incorrect?” I asked in a whisper.
“The Champions may be born of choice and the absence thereof, but that’s not what matters. There is a freedom with knowing, deep down, that there is only one choice to be made. Only one choice that you can live with.”
Her words validated the hypothesis I’d formed yesterday, that the final adamas gem would be choice. This also sounded very much like the conversation I’d had with myself when I chose to become Jeweler to the Blessed. When Prince Elias had cornered me—had tested me—had asked me to tell him what the stone he’d tossed my way was. I could have lied. I could have said I didn’t know, but none of those answers had felt right.
Similarly, in the woods, as Hart bled out before me, he’d claimed I was forced to choose. He’d worried I was coerced into my choice to become Chaos’s Champion and wield the magic to save his life. Maybe that was partially true, but it was still the only decision I could have made.
Mother’s words resonated, but I had no clue what to do with them. They indicated that the final trial would be a choice for which there was only one right answer—only one answer we each could live with.
I wanted to free Hart from Themis. That felt not only necessary but right. Still, something nagged in the back of my mind. Like Charon had said, it didn’t feel … representative of mine and Hart’s connection—the key to all of this.
Our time was short. We’d plan our moves with the Feared and the Storm tonight, and then we’d have to see them through. I needed to finish my part in the trials before we could even deal with the choice.
I squeezed Mother’s fingers. She’d validated my theory, but something was still missing. “I’m not sure I understand, Mother, but thank you for sharing.”
She smiled. “You’re welcome, baby. You’re always welcome. I know you’ll figure it out.”
