Page 21 of Embrace the Serpent
Galen hovered and chatted my ear off every time he delivered a parcel, something about our new life together, but I’d stoppedlistening about three days ago.
The necklace consumed me. I think it really, truly, wanted to eat me up. Jewels have a personality, which you’re not really supposed to admit out loud, since it’s one of those things that most people never notice and therefore find it pretentious of you to do so. But it’s true.
This jewel was nasty. Even shut tight in its lead-lined box, I could almost feel it seething about the way I’d recut it. I’d nearly finished the goldwork, five teardrop shapes with careful embossing, which I’d set in silver. The design was not unlike a peacock’s tail; it would be five sections, the tourmaline in the center, flanked by blue beryl to amplify the wearer’s voice.
It would take another day to finish. And then would come the moment of truth, when I set the tourmaline. The more powerful the gem, the greater the chance of recoil. Most smaller rubies, for example, were always trying to burn you, but they did so in a playful way. This jewel, however, would take the tiniest flaw as an invitation to, I don’t know, hypnotize me into gnawing off my own hand.
Honestly, that would be a fairly lucky outcome. I’d just borrow a trick from Master Vyalis and get a nice pair of gloves. With enough padding, no one would notice, and with enough time, I was sure I’d learn to jewelsmith one-handed.
The part of me thatknewjewels, that felt their personalities and understood what they wanted—that part of me was confident in my design. The other part of me, the one that always knew where the exits were in any room, was shaking like a leaf in a monsoon because my design looked nothing like the drawing of Lady Delphina.
I’d know soon enough which was right. Or the jewel would meltmy mind and I’d know nothing at all. A coin toss, really.
On the positive side, the necklace gave me an excuse not to think about Mirandel. I’d pushed her out of mind as far as she’d go, which was somewhere behind my left ear, where she whispered little threats that I ignored but notably involved dancing on my corpse.
That excuse lasted until I caught a glimpse of movement out on the street. A pair of prancing white horses pulled a gleaming pearly-white carriage that bore the crest of the Rose Palace. It rolled to a stop right before our workshop, and Mirandel got out.
I ducked down, my heart hammering. I hated her for recognizing me. And I feared her. She’d turned my being invisible from something that protected me into something that marked me.
I’d just wait for her to leave before I went downstairs. I didn’t have to see her.
“Saphira!” Galen bellowed. “Bring Mirandel’s rings! And make some tea!”
Oh, horsepiss.
I gathered her rings, then, out of an abundance of caution, doubled back and gathered up the pieces of the collar and shoved everything into the jewel box with a few of my sketches.
I snuck downstairs. Galen was waiting for me at the landing.
He pointed over his shoulder as he strode to the door. “Put it on my worktable.”
“Wait—” I started.
He opened the door. “What a surprise! Come, in.”
I dove for the shadows of the hallway and sprinted to the kitchen.
Grimney was organizing his new stones by color, and he jumped when I entered.
“Tea, Grimney,” I hissed.
Grimney got to it, and I inched my head out of the doorway. Mirandel and Galen were chattering in the entryway. Galen gestured for her to come into the showroom.
That was my cue.
On tiptoe, I snuck into Galen’s workroom. There were two entrances; the little door from the hallway that I took, and the large double doors with frosted glass that led in from the showroom. I crouched so they wouldn’t see my silhouette through the glass.
When Mirandel’s silhouette took a seat, I made my move.
A layer of dust covered everything, but there wasn’t time to do more than clear a place for the tourmaline’s jewel box and the pieces of the necklace. Instead of stacking my sketches neatly like I did on my own worktable, I strewed them around, on the floor and across the table, in what I hoped was an artistic way.
Mirandel’s rings went in a small jewel box on the edge of the table, in clear sight of the double doors. I gave myself a moment to eavesdrop.
Their voices were muffled.
“...honored you would visit. I hear the Serpent King is keeping you rather busy.”
Mirandel laughed. “I don’t let my time be monopolized by any one man.”
