Page 93 of Embrace the Serpent

“He made the greatest sacrifice our people can: he gave his heartstone to power it. And without his heart, he changed. Birds did not please him. He slapped his wife. He grew horrid. Died young, alone, ostracized from the kingdom he saved. The stories of the Serpent King’s cruelty come from that time.

“The working was kept a secret, so even today, few know what he sacrificed. He became a monster, for us. Because of him, we survived.”

Rane let me take his hand. “I can’t let it fall apart under me,” he said.

“It won’t.”

I turned back to the setting, with the knowledge that it was Darvald’s work. That was why something about this had felt familiar. I was again following in his footsteps.

On first look, there had been nothing that jumped out as obviously wrong. Some of the work was old-fashioned, using twice the metal it would need with modern methods. But it wasn’twrong; it would still work fine.

I made a note of the outer ring, of the stones that corresponded to ones above. Perhaps some of those had shifted with time. That was worth checking.

As I worked my way inward, I grew more confused. It was in astonishing condition, the work pristine, the jewels firmly set—Darvald had even thought to add a layer to protect the setting by purifying the air and keeping the metals from tarnishing.

After a good hour, I sat back on my heels. The setting was perfect. That left only—

My teeth stung as if I had bitten into ice, and my tongue coated with something bitter.

I stepped closer to the heartstone. It was beautifully cut in long facets to make its power flow as strongly as possible.

“I need more light,” I said.

Rane held his lantern higher, angling it toward me.

In the light I saw the problem, and my heart sank. A crack. It started in the base of the jewel, a single deep crack rising up through the center, almost perfectly parallel with the facets, so that it was concealed from casual observation. The light shifted, and I realized it wasn’t just a single crack. There were hundreds, splintering fractures that ran through the entirety of the jewel, fractures so thin that they seemed to disappear entirely if I came at it from the side by even the slightest angle.

I could redo every inch of this setting, and it wouldn’t matter. All the power came from the heartstone, and the heartstone had succumbed to the pressure of a hundred years of fear.

“Rane.” My voice trembled with emotion. I swallowed and whispered. “I can’t fix this.”

“You’re the best jewelsmith in the Empire,” he said. “Of course you can.”

His words would have made me blush any other day. “It’s not that.”

He shook his head smilingly, his brows pulled together. Confusion was his last shield from the truth. “Whatever materials you need, however rare, I can get for you.”

“It’s not that, either.”

A silence fell.

“Please,” he said, and his smile was gone. I didn’t know if he was begging me to tell him or to spare him from the truth.

“The heartstone is cracked. It’s holding on by a thread. The whole thing could shatter at any moment.”

“Saphira,” he said, and his hands cradled my head, so gently. “You’re so smart. So brilliant. There must be something we can do.”

“The stone can’t be saved,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”

He stepped back out of the light, and shadows fell over his features. “This stone can’t. But what if you had another?”

“Yes,” I said, thinking. “That would work. With another that is its equal—” I cut off, something rising in me that felt like a dark omen.

Rane’s hand rose to his chest, to his heart. “There is one other.”

18

The palace was as silent and still as a held breath. We moved through it without speaking, his hand in mine. When we were in his rooms, we stayed like that, hands clasped as if it were the most natural thing.

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